MELT INTO YOU

RONI LOREN

DEDICATION

To Mom and De.

Your wholehearted, unconditional support is the best gift a girl could ever receive.

I love you.

Contents

Title Page

Dedication

PROLOGUE

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

TWENTY

TWENTY-ONE

TWENTY-TWO

TWENTY-THREE

TWENTY-FOUR

TWENTY-FIVE

TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SEVEN

TWENTY-EIGHT

TWENTY-NINE

THIRTY

THIRTY-ONE

THIRTY-TWO

THIRTY-THREE

THIRTY-FOUR

Acknowledgments

Special Excerpt from Crash Into You

About The Author

Also by Roni Loren

Praise for Crash Into You

Copyright

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE

twelve years ago

Most of the time temptation climbs into your lap and straddles you, demands you deal with it immediately. Give in or deprive yourself. Choose your adventure.

Jace’s general stance: Deprivation was overrated.

But he’d never faced this kind of temptation. The kind that seeped into your skin so slowly you didn’t even notice until you were soaked with it, saturated. To the point that every thought, every breath, seemed to be laced with the desire for that thing you shouldn’t have.

And right now that thing was nibbling flecks of purple polish off her fingernails.

Jace shifted on the rec room couch, pretending to look for the remote control, even though he could feel the damn thing digging into his hip. He had to do something to get her calves off his lap. Otherwise, she was going to feel exactly how much he hadn’t been concentrating on the horror movie. Or she’d assume he’d gotten the monster hard-on watching the teens get butchered on the screen. Although, thinking he got off on blood and guts might be preferable to the real reason he was sporting wood.

She tucked her legs to her chest and set her chin on her knees, staring at him with eyes so pale blue, they looked like silver dimes in the flicker of the television. Thunder rumbled outside and her gaze darted to the window behind him. Wary. “Maybe we should’ve watched that Jim Carrey movie instead.”

He hit Stop on the VCR, cutting off the eerie music to the closing credits, and resisted the urge to scoot closer to her, to curl around her lithe body and slay her fears like the dude in the movie had done for the heroine. Well, up until the guy’s head was lopped off. That he could skip. “See, I warned you it would freak you out. I shouldn’t have even let you watch it. It’s rated R. Too old for you.”

She snorted and shoved his thigh with her foot. “Said the nineteen-year-old who just finished his third beer.”

He glanced at the empty bottles on the side table. Yeah, he was batting a thousand on the responsible adult thing tonight. Good thing his parents had left him in charge. “I’m in college. Beer is part of homework.”

“Whatever. I’ll be rated-R approved in three months anyway.” She grabbed her Coke off the coffee table and sipped, drawing his attention down to her heart-shaped lips and the way they drew the liquid slowly from the bottle. “Hell, I’ll be porn approved.”

Fuck. That’s the last image she needed to paint on his brain. “No, you won’t. Gotta be eighteen for that.”

Lightning reflected off the silver ring in her arched eyebrow. “You would know, I’m sure.”

“I’m a guy.” Which should be enough of an explanation. “And don’t you dare watch any of that shit until you’re like thirty.”

“Oh, please. I’m not that innocent, Jace,” she said, yawning and setting down her drink. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, smudging her heavy kohl eyeliner until she looked like some gothic angel. “The couple I was placed with last time had a huge stash that their idiot sons always raided. I’ve seen my share of bom-chicka-wah-wah.”

“Oh, terrific. Glad you were supervised so well.”

“It was stupid. The guy actors were ugly and the girls were fake-looking.” She bumped his thigh with her bare foot again. “Kind of like those chicks you always date.”

He almost jolted when she touched him. He felt like that game Operation where any slight nudge sent a loud buzz through his system—only this buzz went straight to his dick. Every time he was around her these days was like this.

He’d almost gotten used to it, had accepted the painful state as part of his daily existence. Then two weeks ago they’d been goofing off in the pool. She’d sprayed him in the face with the hose, and he’d grabbed her by the ankle and pulled her into the water with him. When she’d surfaced, she’d been laughing—something as rare as a unicorn sighting.

He’d pushed her hair off her face, intending to dunk her again, but had gotten caught in the net of her laughing eye-lock. He’d hesitated. And in the space between blinks, she’d glided in closer to him, invaded his space, and kissed him.

And dammit, he’d kissed her back. Had let all the pent-up desire he’d harbored for her over the last few months pour into the kiss. So stupid.

He knew having someone live in his parents’ house for a year didn’t make her his sister. But he wasn’t dumb enough to think kissing her was okay either. Especially when she was still in high school. Man, if hell existed, he was going straight there.

He’d stopped the kiss when she’d pressed her body against his, her one-piece bathing suit not thick enough to insulate him from her every peak and valley beneath it. She’d swum off without a word and hadn’t mentioned it again, apparently voting to pretend it never happened. He’d seconded that vote.

But now he realized they were probably going to have to discuss it. Draw a nice little chalk line between them. He’d drunk the beer, hoping to get some liquid courage, but no such luck.

He scooted more toward the arm of the couch, away from contact with her feet. “The girls I date aren’t fake-looking.” Not totally.

“They sure as hell don’t look like me.”

Fuck no, they didn’t. They didn’t smell of cherry shampoo like she did either. Or smile at only his good jokes, not the lame ones. Or make him feel like he was worth hanging out with—not because of his money, or his rank on the college swim team, but just because. “No one looks like you.”

Her gaze shifted back to her chipped nail polish. “Yeah, well, not all of us can be supermodels.”

“Hey, that’s not what I meant.”

She swung her legs from the couch to the floor and stood. “I’m going to go clean this polish off and go to bed. Thanks for renting the movie, even though I think I’ll be sleeping with the lights on and the closet doors open tonight.”

“Hold up.” Jace grabbed her hand before she could escape, knowing he shouldn’t say what he was about to, but not okay letting her walk away feeling like she was somehow less than. “I’m serious. Those girls only wish they looked as great as you. Really.”

“You’re so full of crap I bet your eyes have turned brown with it.” She slipped her fingers from his grasp and hugged her elbows. “Don’t do this because of what happened in the pool. I have enough people doing the let’s-lie-to-make-her-feel-good thing. You’re the only one I’ve been able to count on to not bullshit me.”

Thunder rolled outside as if gathering energy off her building anger.

He leaned back on the couch, his hands out to his sides. “Chill, I’m not lying to you, okay?” I haven’t really been sitting here all night watching you instead of the stupid movie. And no, I haven’t spent the last two weeks replaying how good it felt to kiss you that day. Or wondering what would’ve happened if I hadn’t stopped things.

She stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed, like she was determining results on some internal lie detector.

He knew more discussion in this direction wasn’t going to lead anywhere good. If she kept prying, his feelings were going to slip out, especially with his tongue loose from beer. “You should go to bed.”

Her lips parted as if she was going to push the issue further, but then—thank God—clamped them shut and turned her back on him. “Good night, Jace.”

After he was sure she’d be done in the bathroom and tucked into her own room, Jace trudged upstairs to get ready for bed. He should’ve skipped brushing his teeth. The minute he stepped into the steamy, cherry-scented bathroom, his hard-on returned full force. She’d showered.

He groaned as images of her slipping out of her clothes right where he stood assailed him. Water sluicing down over her every curve, washing away all that makeup and leaving behind that natural beauty so few girls seemed to have. Her hands sliding soap over her naked body, touching, exploring. Fuck.

He brushed his teeth with brutal force and shoved his toothbrush back in its holder, fighting the temptation to climb in the shower and let the fantasy run wild while he stroked himself. He’d done it before with her on his mind. But he knew it wouldn’t provide any real relief. It’d only key him up more, and all he wanted to do right now was fall into bed and crash. At least if he was sleeping he didn’t have to think about the girl two doors down.

He made his way to his bedroom and flipped on a lamp. The room flooded with warm light, but then flickered off, the distinctive sound of everything electronic in the house going from a whir to dead silence following it. Ah, hell.

He crossed to the far side of the room and pulled back the curtains on the pair of large windows, lighting his room with the flashing of the storm. With wind like this, losing electricity had been inevitable. Now he wouldn’t even be able to distract himself with TV to help get to sleep. He stripped down to his boxers and slipped between the cool sheets.

Stared at the ceiling.

This was going to be a long night.

He counted the seconds between the bolts of lightning and the boom of thunder—the space between getting less and less. The worst of the rain would pass over them soon. But he feared his throbbing hard-on wouldn’t fade quite as quickly.

He tossed from one side of the bed to the other, trying to think of something—anything—besides the girl down the hall. Even replaying some of the gory scenes from the movie they’d watched didn’t help. Nothing could shake the image of her standing there—smudged eyeliner, faded sweatshirt, and a jaded smirk that told him she really didn’t believe she was beautiful.

Didn’t realize he couldn’t even concentrate when she was near.

He flopped onto his back with a strangled sigh. He would never fall asleep at this rate. Not with his brain on an endless loop and his body staging the boner from hell. Resigned, he let his hand track down his abdomen and below the waistband of his shorts, imagining that it was her delicate, purple-polished fingers wrapping around his cock instead of his large hand.

He groaned as he stroked up the length and ran a thumb over the tip. God, how many times in the last few months had he thought of her this way? He couldn’t ever remember aching for someone like this. Sex was sex. Girls were girls. Both had always come easy to him. Neither was something to get all knotted up about. Why was she so different?

Her name whispered off his lips as he brought himself closer to release, and the windows rattled with the next roll of thunder. Jace almost missed the faint tap tap tap sound mixed in with it. The noise came again. He tilted his head, listened. Another knock and then his door cracked open a sliver, a beam of light peeking through. “Jace?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He pulled his hand from his shorts and squinted in the glare of the flashlight. “Yeah, I’m here. What’s up?”

“Can I come in?” she asked, her voice swallowed by another rumble outside.

Hell no! He sat up on his elbows, making sure he had enough blankets over him to cover what was beneath the sheets. “You okay?”

She stepped fully into the room and clicked off the flashlight. “Do you have any matches or a lighter? I . . . I know it’s stupid, but the dark still freaks me out and I want to light a few candles.”

He frowned. “No, sorry, I don’t. I could go look downstairs. There may be some in the kitchen.”

“No, don’t get up.” She took another step toward him, the flashing from the windows lighting her in strobe effect, each blink giving his eyes something new to torture himself with. Bare legs. Short gym shorts. Damp hair. A tank top so thin he could see the shadow of dusky pink nipples beneath it.

But where he lost it was when his eyes locked with hers. The longing he felt in his own chest reflected in her pale blue stare. He tried to clear the knot that lodged in his throat. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“I don’t want to go back to my room, Jace,” she said, something very different from fear lacing her words.

His tongue grew thick in his mouth. “Well, you can’t stay in here.”

Another step closer, now within arm’s reach of him. “Why not? No one will be home until tomorrow.”

He groaned and raked a hand through his now sweat-dampened hair. “Because . . . Jesus, you know why.”

“Because you think I’m pretty.” The corner of her mouth lifted despite the obvious nervous edge tracking through her tone.

“Don’t do this,” he said, not sure if the words were directed at her or himself.

“Come on, I want to know.”

“Yes, because I think you’re pretty.” He looked toward the windows, breathed. “Because I damn near lose my mind every time I’m near you lately.”

Her breath escaped in a sharp little puff, and the thunder rolled between them, electrifying the air.

He hardened his tone, hoping she’d run for the door. “Go back to your room. We’re playing a dangerous game and doing the right thing has never been my strong suit.”

“That’s what I love about you,” she said, sitting down on the bed, ignoring his warning. The curve of her hip brushed against the back of his hand. “You’re the only one in this family that seems to live in the moment, to take risks.”

Yeah, and his family hated him for it. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the vision of her, but her scent wrapped around him just the same, awakening every nerve in his body.

Soft skin slid across his palm as she gripped his hand. “Take a risk on me, Jace. Please. I need . . .” She paused and he opened his eyes to find hers going shiny. “I need you.”

The stark ache in her voice sank down into his bones, eclipsing even the sexual attraction he had for her and fueling something deeper, some longing to connect with her. Hold her. Soothe whatever made her so sad beneath that tough girl façade. To be that guy to fight off her demons.

To be what she needed.

So he squeezed her hand and pulled her down against him, taking her lips in a slow, savoring kiss and letting himself fall to the desire that had choked him these last few months. Her body melted along his, her hands exploring his bare chest, threading though his hair, touching and testing. Both brave and timid.

Jace held back his need to run his hands over each inch of her, afraid he’d overtake her with his own wants and urge her farther than she wanted to go. He settled for laying gentle kisses along the curve of her neck, tasting the sweet salt of her skin and breathing in her heady scent. He could spend all night relishing every nuance of her. Each flavor. Each texture. Each breathy sigh.

Her fingers traced down over his hip, pausing when they brushed the waistband of his boxers. Tentative.

He eased back from kissing her neck and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Hey, we can just kiss. This doesn’t have to be anything more than that.”

She bit her lip and looked down at her hands. “But what if I want it to be?”

The sweet plea in her tone undid him. Completely and totally decimated the last of his resistance. He put a knuckle beneath her chin and lifted her face to him. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

The lightning flashed outside, revealing the color staining her cheeks. “I want everything with you, but . . . can you take the lead?”

He eased her off him and onto her back, kissing the corner of a mouth that smirked too often and stared into eyes that had seen too much. “Yeah, I think I can do that.”

And he did.

Tasting her, touching her. Loving her.

Breaking every rule he’d set for himself and breaking the goddamned law.

But in the beautiful perfection that filled the next few thousand breaths, he didn’t care.

Because sometimes doing the wrong thing was the only thing that felt right.

ONE

Evan Kennedy swigged the last of the tequila from the mini-bottle as her fiancé’s moans of pleasure drifted through the wall behind her. She set the bottle down and sank back onto the bed, curling her pillow around her ears. This was torture—absolute Geneva Convention–worthy stuff. Next time they stayed in a hotel, she would make sure the suite had two bedrooms that didn’t share a wall.

How was she supposed to sleep with that kind of erotic soundtrack in the background? Especially when the only company she had in her room was the hotel’s mini-bar and a subpar selection of cable stations.

The heavy thudding of a headboard banging against the wall started up, rattling the three empty bottles on her bedside table. Oh, the guys were on their game tonight—obviously celebrating the good news they’d all gotten earlier in the evening. No telling how long their show would go on. With a heavy sigh, she threw the comforter off her legs and climbed out of the bed, happy to find she only wavered slightly.

She needed air. Or at least some place where two happy lovers weren’t sharing passionate, wall-rattling sex while she lay in bed alone.

She yanked on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, then tucked the last mini-bottle of tequila into her pocket. The bars downstairs would be closed by now, and although she rarely drank, tonight she had the urge to get comfortably numb. She just had to make sure not to run into any of the people here for her and Daniel’s couples’ seminar. That certainly wouldn’t reflect well on the company. And the last thing she felt like doing was getting into a row with Daniel about “professional image.”

After running a brush through her hair, she stepped out of her bedroom and threw one last glance at Daniel’s closed door. The moans had turned to dueling male grunts. Clearly both parties were having a good time. An unexpected pang of sadness hit her in the gut, and her eyes burned as if tears were going to flow.

What in the world? Her hand went to her cheek, but of course no actual tears were there. She never cried. But that burning was the first sign she’d had in years that she was still physically capable of tears.

She shook her head. Maybe it was the tequila.

And the close quarters.

A walk would help.

She shut the door with a soft snick and made her way down to the lobby. As expected, things were quiet. The overnight desk clerk glanced up at her with disinterested eyes. She gave him a quick smile and turned in the opposite direction to head toward the pool and the beach beyond.

She slipped through the exit door, and the warm Gulf breeze wrapped around her, lifting her mood a bit. She closed her eyes and inhaled the salty air, letting it fill her lungs and hoping it would clear her head. But as soon as she opened her eyes again, the glowing swimming pool seemed to tilt in front of her. Whoa. Maybe she had overestimated her liquor tolerance. Three shots of tequila might have been two too many. She grabbed on to the back of a nearby lounge chair to steady herself.

Evan focused on the dark expanse of the Gulf of Mexico in the distance, waiting for the spinning in her head to stop. She just needed to make it to the beach, sit down in the sand, and get her normally iron-clad defenses back in place so she could return upstairs with a smile on her face. She didn’t need the guys seeing her this way. They’d want to sit down and talk about feelings and shit. And really, she just didn’t want to go there. The last thing she needed right now was for Daniel to put on his therapist hat with her.

After a few more fortifying breaths, she straightened her spine and made her way slowly around the edge of the pool and to the wooden stairs that led down to the beach. Almost there. But when she reached for the gate, the latch didn’t give. “What the—?”

She looked down and sighed at the sign attached to the weather-beaten wood. Private Beach—Closed: midnight to 6 a.m. No lifeguard on duty.

“Dammit.”

She stared longingly at the crashing waves, the peaceful solitude of the beach calling to her like a siren song. She peeked over her shoulder at the hotel’s main building. There weren’t any security cameras out here. Who would know? And Daniel had brought a hell of a lot of business to the hotel this weekend with the conference, so even if someone caught her, she doubted they would do more than politely direct her back to her room.

Without giving it more thought, she planted a foot on the lowest railing and draped her other leg over the top, making sure to keep two hands securely on the fence so her head wouldn’t start whirling again. She hoped no one was watching because she was sure she was executing the maneuver with the grace of a walrus, but at least she didn’t topple down the stairs. Score.

After a careful walk down the steps, she kicked off her flip-flops and curled her toes into the cool sand. Ahh, yes, so worth the rule-breaking.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the clouds far off on the horizon blinked with lightning. Damn, she should’ve brought her camera. The new lens she’d bought would’ve been perfect to catch the display. She moved closer to the water, stepping past the rows of hotel lounge chairs and closed umbrellas and not stopping until the spray from the crashing waves hit her face and the taste of salt alighted on her tongue.

The tide pooled around her feet, soaking the bottom of her jeans and sending a little chill through her. She rubbed her arms and glanced down the beach, taking in the deserted shoreline that stretched along the length of South Padre Island. The moonlight had turned the normally colorful view into silver sand and black water, but even in the darkness, she could tell she was alone on her three a.m. adventure.

No surprise there. People didn’t come on vacation to wander around alone half-drunk in the middle of the night. No, the people in those beautifully appointed hotels lining the beach were cuddled up to their loved ones right now, sleeping off a fun day. Or, like Daniel, having crazy monkey sex with their lovers. Lucky bastards.

Normally, that knowledge wouldn’t bother her. She’d made her decisions, had created a good life for herself. For the first time, she was with someone who loved her—even if that love was only platonic. But for some reason, a hollow ache had rooted solidly in her chest tonight. And paired with the heated need that had settled between her thighs after listening to an hour of lovemaking, she was dangerously close to feeling sorry for herself.

Her fists balled. No way. Screw that. The alcohol had to be what was making her feel this way. She just needed to sober up.

She looked down at the water swirling around her ankles. A dunk in the surf would probably snap her into sobriety pretty quickly. But walking back through the hotel in dripping-wet clothes wasn’t exactly wise, especially when she wasn’t supposed to be on the beach in the first place.

She gave the shore another quick scan, then shrugged. Oh, what the hell.

Evan stepped back from the water long enough to shimmy out of her jeans and T-shirt and tossed the clothes where the water’s edge wouldn’t reach. Despite the warm night breeze, her nipples beaded beneath her bra and goose bumps rose on her skin. A little zip of adrenaline went through her. Man, how long had it been since she’d done something like this, stepped outside the lines a little? She’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

To hell with the pity party. She was on a gorgeous beach and had the whole damn thing to herself. No more whining. She made her way back toward the waves and took her time submerging herself, determined to enjoy the luxury of owning this little piece of ocean for the night.

The water lapped at her as she moved further into the surf—bathing her legs, sliding up her thighs, soaking her panties. Mmm. The gulf was deliciously warm against her skin, caressing the dormant parts of her to full sensual awareness. Her hands cupped the water and drew it up and over her breasts, soaking her bra and the tightening buds underneath. A shudder went through her.

She wanted to sink into the salty depths and allow the sensations to take over, to wash away the dark emotions that had claimed her tonight. But even in her buzzed state, she knew tequila and swimming weren’t good bedfellows. So, she stopped when the waves crested at her chest and settled in to watch the light show on the horizon.

The distant storm had moved a bit closer, and though it still wasn’t near enough to be a threat, the view of the flashing sky was breathtaking. She wanted to kick herself for not bringing her camera. She’d had so little time for her photography since she’d gone on this seminar tour with Daniel she was beginning to worry she’d forgotten how to do it. Hopefully, when they returned to Dallas after this last stop, she could dedicate some time to her neglected studio.

With a sigh, she tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and dipped her hair into the water. Maybe that’s why she was in such a funk. She’d spent the last few months supporting Daniel’s passion and ignoring hers. She’d signed up for it, and the venture had turned out to be lucrative for them both, but it definitely didn’t feed the part of her soul that slipping behind a camera did. That part was downright starved.

Thunder rumbled closer this time. Reluctantly, she drifted back a few feet. It was probably time to get out. The alcohol-induced fog in her head was clearing, and based on the sudden uptick in wind, the storm would be on top of her in the next few minutes. But before she could take another step, pain—sharp and sudden—shot up her thigh.

She yelped and jolted backward, her arms flailing before she crashed into the water and went under. Saltwater filled her mouth, silencing her shout, and a burning sensation wrapped around her thigh and radiated outward.

Disoriented, she scrambled for solid footing, trying to get back to the surface. She knew she couldn’t have fallen into deep water, but the writhing pain and the knowledge that she was out there alone had panic edging in. She spread her arms in an attempt to tread water and finally felt sand against her toes. But just as she tried to push off, twin bands of heat wrapped around her upper arms and her entire body was propelled upward.

When her face broke the surface of the water, she sucked in a large gulp of air, half-coughing, half-choking. She kicked frantically, trying to make sure she didn’t get dragged back under.

“Stop fighting or you’re going to drown us both.” The rumbling male voice came from behind her, and the grip on her arms tightened. “We’ve got to get out of the undertow.”

Her heart jumped into her throat, but she forced herself to stop struggling so the stranger could help. His breath was warm on her neck as he pulled them both backward, but he didn’t say another word. The water seemed to be fighting their progress, and the man adjusted his hold until he had his arms hooked beneath her armpits. She wanted to tell him to let her go, that she knew how to swim, but her thigh was burning like a swarm of wasps had attacked it and her head was spinning again.

A few hard-fought minutes later, packed sand scraped against her heels, and she sucked in a deep sigh of relief. The man dragged her another few feet until they reached dry land, then set her down and kneeled next to her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his broad chest heaving beneath his soaked T-shirt.

She lifted her gaze to the concerned eyes staring down at her, an odd sense of déjà vu washing over her. “I, uh . . .”

“I heard you scream. Are you hurt?” He touched the side of her head, evaluating her.

She wet her lips. “My leg . . . Something stung me . . . I lost my balance.”

He glanced down the length of her—the mostly naked length of her. Shit. She shot up into a sitting position and scooted backward, but his hand locked over her knee as he stared down at her upper thigh, which was still burning like she’d roasted it over an open fire.

“Damn, it got you good.”

“What are you talking about?” She tried to jerk her leg from beneath his grip, but he held her firm as he examined her.

“Jellyfish,” he said, frowning at her. “Your whole thigh is striped. That must hurt like a sonofabitch.”

She stared down at the red tentacle-shaped lines around her thigh. “Well, it doesn’t feel awesome.”

He chuckled, the rich sound seeming to vibrate from deep within his chest, and something stirred in the back of her brain. He climbed to his feet. “Here, let me help.”

“Don’t you dare pee on me,” she said, the words slipping out before she could rethink them.

He tilted his head back in a full laugh this time, the sound echoing down the beach.

She cringed. “I’m sorry, I—”

He raised a hand, his eyes still lit with humor. “Don’t worry. The urine thing is just an urban myth. And I’m definitely not going to ruin my ‘just saved pretty girl from drowning’ hero status by taking a leak on you. I’m not that stupid.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, a hero, huh? So this is all a big pick-up routine? Find drowning girls and ride in on your white horse?”

“Absolutely.” He grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it off, revealing miles of taut skin, sinewy muscle, and tribal-style ink running across his shoulder and down one arm, rendering her momentarily speechless. Water dripped off his soaked hair—which looked to be blond, though it was hard to tell in the moonlight—and slipped down his now bare chest. Her gaze locked on the tiny droplets, tracking their path down to the band of his shorts until they disappeared. Oh, blessed Lord.

He cleared his throat, no doubt catching her in her perusal, and squatted next to her. His hand slipped under her knee. “Here, seawater actually helps the sting. Let me wrap this around your leg, and then we can go to my room. We’ll get you feeling better.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Oh, really. Might want to tap the brakes there, Rico Suave. Despite my state of undress, I don’t just go to strangers’ hotel rooms. I’m not quite that easy.”

Dimples appeared as he fought a smile. “Oh, not quite that easy, but easy. Duly noted.”

She shot him a withering look.

“For the record, that’s not why I was inviting you to my room. Although, I promise that certainly would distract you from the pain. But all I mean is my roommate is Mr. Prepared. He keeps a first-aid kit for the beach and always has a bottle of vinegar in it. It will help deactivate the venom.”

She frowned. Two grown men on a beach vacation together? Great, not another good-looking guy who preferred other good-looking guys. Not that she was looking for anything to happen anyway. He was a stranger. An extremely pinup-worthy stranger. But still. In her sexually deprived state, a little flirting could be almost as satisfying as an orgasm. Almost.

With gentle hands, he bent her leg and wrapped his wet T-shirt around her thigh. His focus was on the task at hand, but she didn’t miss the sneaky sidelong glance toward her open thighs, where her wet panties were probably revealing every detail of what lay beneath.

She cleared her throat, and his gaze darted back to her leg, but the corner of his mouth tugged up a bit.

Well, well, maybe not so gay.

Her body heated at the thought, even though her brain knew that, straight or gay, she wasn’t going to do anything with her rescuer. “So how long were you out here? I thought I was alone.”

He glanced up as he draped the shirt around her leg a second time. “I was here the whole time.” He crooked a thumb behind him. “Was sitting in one of the lounge chairs on the far end. I thought you saw me when you looked down the beach, but I guess not.”

“You could’ve said something, you know.”

He gave her an unrepentant grin. “If a beautiful woman wants to go for a naked swim, who am I to intervene?”

“Very gentlemanly of you.”

“Hey, never said I was a gentleman. Just a hero.”

“Right,” she said, her tone dry.

He tucked the end of the shirt underneath the first layer, securing it. “Is that too tight?”

“No, it’s actually helping the burning a little.”

“Hold on.” He climbed to his feet and jogged a little ways down the beach, grabbed something from one of the lounge chairs, then walked over to where she had left her clothes and picked up those as well. When he returned he held out her T-shirt. “Go ahead and put this on. You’re not going to be able to put on the jeans, but you can wrap my beach towel around your waist.”

“Thanks.” She took her shirt and towel from him, pulled the first over her head, then got to her feet and knotted the beach towel around her hips. She tilted her head up to smile at him. “So, Mr. Humble Hero, you have a name?”

He stuck out his hand. “It’s Jace.”

Her body froze, the world seeming to tip off balance for a moment. Had she heard right? She stared at him for a moment, taking in every nuance of his face, the earlier whispers of déjà vu now becoming shouts.

Was it really him? His hair was longer, his body harder and more mature, the green in his eyes more wary, but the resemblance was there. It’d been years—twelve actually. The nineteen-year-old boy she’d known had become a man. “Jace Austin?”

* * *

Oh, shit. The recognition that flashed in the woman’s blue eyes had Jace dropping his hand. This chick knew him? He frantically flipped through his mental Rolodex, starting with the girls-I’ve-slept-with file.

When they’d locked gazes earlier, he’d felt a nudge of familiarity but had dismissed it. Surely, he’d remember this dark-haired beauty, especially if he had gotten the privilege of touching that lush little body. But something about her was poking at the recesses of his mind.

He rubbed the back of his neck and offered an apologetic smile. “Uh, yeah. Jace Austin. I’m sorry, have we met?”

She flinched a bit—the move subtle, but not lost on him. Damn, well now he felt like a jackass. Had they slept together?

She recovered quickly, the corner of her mouth tilting up. “Don’t worry. I’m sure I look a little different than I did at sixteen. Especially without that god-awful bottle red hair and eyebrow piercing.”

Sixteen? Red hair? The flashing list of names in his head suddenly flipped back over a decade and landed on one he hadn’t thought about in years. One he’d purposely tried to block out. No, couldn’t be. “Evangeline?”

She shrugged and looked out at the water, the wind whipping her hair around and disguising her expression. “It’s Evan now. I stopped using my full name a long time ago.”

“Wow, I don’t even know what to say,” he said, shaking his head. “You look great. I’m so glad to see that you’re . . .” Okay. Alive. “Here.”

She turned back toward him and smiled, though it didn’t light her face the way the earlier smiles had. “It’s good to see you, too. But, if you don’t mind, before we go down memory lane, how ’bout that vinegar?”

“Oh, right,” he said, his mind still whirling. “Follow me.”

And she needn’t worry. The last thing he was going to do was initiate any reminiscing. No, some things were better left buried. And how he’d destroyed the girl he’d sworn to look out for was A-number-one on that list.

TWO

Evan leaned against the back of the couch in Jace’s hotel suite and clasped her hands in front of her to keep them from shaking. She’d thought about Jace so often over the years, despite her best efforts not to. She had wondered how he was doing, but she’d never allowed herself to look him up and check. She’d been a coward—afraid of how she’d react seeing him all grown up, possibly with a wife and kids or something.

When she was a teenager, Jace had been the perfect boy in her eyes. The only guy who’d been able to make her smile during those dark years. She’d stupidly assumed his attention had meant more than simple friendship, more than pity for a screwed-up foster kid. But God, how wrong she’d been. Of all the disastrous mistakes she’d made in her life, falling for Jace had been her biggest. She’d paid dearly for that error—still paid for it—but he would never know that.

And now he’d seen her moping alone on the beach and going skinny-dipping drunk. Stellar. If she’d wanted to show him how far she’d come, how put together she was now, she’d certainly gotten off to a shining start.

“I’m going to go grab the vinegar from Andre’s room,” Jace said, pulling her from her thoughts. “Why don’t you go in the bathroom and unwrap your leg? I’ll bring you the bottle.”

“Yeah, okay,” she said, proud her voice was steady despite her jangled nerves.

She made her way to the restroom and sat on the edge of the tub, arranging the towel to cover her lap. The burn of the jellyfish sting had lessened a bit from its five-alarm status, but still made it hard to sit still. Or maybe it was the fact that Jace was here that had her ready to jump out of her skin. Even after all these years, simply being near him had her stomach doing silly flip-flops. She needed to get it together.

She unwrapped the makeshift bandage and laid it over the edge of the tub right as Jace poked his head into the bathroom. “How’s it looking, Ev?”

The affection lacing her old nickname poked at something she’d long since buried. She forced a casual shrug. “Looks like I got in a fight with a jellyfish and lost.”

“Here.” He stepped inside and the room seemed to shrink as his tall, still shirtless frame filled up the space. He squatted next to her and uncapped the bottle of vinegar. “This should neutralize the sting. Might be a little cold.”

She winced when he poured the liquid over her thigh, but despite the shock of the contrast in temperature, the sting started to ease. “Ooh, that’s better.”

His hand cupped her knee and he ran a thumb over the curve of it, causing her breath to hitch. He glanced up from his crouched position, his eyes seeming to see right through her this-is-no-big-thing façade she was working so hard to maintain. “You okay, Ev?”

She could tell by the somberness of his expression, the edge of concern in his voice that he wasn’t asking about the sting. The combination of his touch and the sentiment almost undid her, almost brought forth the tears she’d hadn’t cried in a decade. She looked back at her leg. “I’m fine, Jace. Really.”

He blew out a breath and stood. “Pat your leg dry. I’ll be right back.”

A few seconds later, he returned—thankfully with a shirt on. God knows she was having enough trouble concentrating around him without the added distraction of his bare chest. He tossed a ball of blue fabric to her.

“What’s this for?”

“It’s a pair of track shorts you can use. They’ll be big, but hopefully the drawstring will help. You’re not going to want to put your jeans back on over that sting.”

“Oh, right. Thanks.” She stared down at the shorts.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, why don’t you go ahead and get changed. I’ll be in the living room.”

He’d already seen her in her underwear on the beach, but she knew why he was giving her privacy. Now that they knew who each other was, the wall of the past was firmly erected between them. There would be no more lighthearted flirting. Certainly not from her end.

Regardless, she appreciated the few minutes of alone time. It gave her time to regroup, pull her shoulders back, and slip back into the woman she was now—instead of the teenager she’d regressed to as soon as Jace had appeared.

When she stepped back into the living room, Jace was leaning over the small refrigerator, clanging bottles around as he searched for something. He glanced up from his task when she cleared her throat and sat on the couch.

“I was trying to see if we had any soda, but it looks like all we have is beer and water.”

She smirked. “I think I’ve had enough alcohol tonight. Plus, I need to get back to my room.”

A squeak from the other side of the room caught her attention. She turned her head just as one of the bedroom doors swung open on whining hinges. A drowsy-eyed man wearing only plaid pajama bottoms filled the doorway and leaned against the doorframe. “J, what the fuck are you doing in here? I’m trying to sleep.”

Jace frowned in the man’s direction. “Watch the language, Andre. We’ve got company.”

Jace’s roommate turned his head, his dark eyebrows lifting when he spotted her. “Oh.” His gaze traveled down the length of her, pausing at the borrowed shorts, and a sleepy smile crossed his face. “Well, hi there.”

Evan heated beneath Andre’s attention, the hint of Spanish accent and the flare of interest in his eyes singeing her. No worries about the two gorgeous men in the room being gay. That was for damn sure.

Jace snorted. “Back off, Romeo. Evan’s an old friend of mine and is only here because she has a wicked jellyfish sting. So you can dial down the flirt.”

“Wait a second.” Andre scrubbed a hand over his face and stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as if evaluating her closer. “Evan? As in Evan Kennedy?”

“No, Evan Litch—” Jace began, but she interrupted.

“Yes, Evan Kennedy.” She stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Andre sauntered forward and took her hand, bringing it to his mouth and planting a kiss on top of it instead of shaking it. “Pleasure.”

Jace walked up behind him, his brows knitted together. “You changed your name? Why does your new one sound so familiar?”

Andre laughed and sank into the armchair next to her. She would’ve answered Jace, but she had a hard time drawing her attention away from Andre’s lean, tan chest and the silver nipple rings glinting in the lamp light. Oh, my. Not to mention Jace’s well-built form in her peripheral vision. Man, she was like a starved woman at a buffet. Beyond getting away from her past with Jace, she needed to get away from all this testosterone.

Andre answered for her. “Because this lovely lady is engaged to the guy who’s running the whole couples shindig this weekend. She’ll be Mrs. Doctor Dan in a few months.”

She nodded. “Yes, November.”

“Hold up,” Jace said, drawing her attention back to him as he crossed in front of her and sat on the couch opposite her. “You’re engaged?”

She cringed inwardly. Why had she let herself flirt on the beach? She knew better than that. Now she looked trampy on top of flighty. Fabulous. “Yes.”

“To the Dr. Dan?” Jace eyed her in a way that made her want to shift her gaze to the floor. Like if she met his stare, he’d see every bit of the truth written on her face.

“Yes, the very one.” She stood and forced a brief smile. “And I doubt he’d be happy knowing I was half-dressed in someone else’s hotel room in the middle of the night. So I better head back.”

“You didn’t tell him you were going to the beach?” Jace asked, the frown lines around his mouth deepening. “That’s dangerous, Ev. You should’ve told someone you were going out there. What if that undertow would’ve kept you under and I hadn’t been there?”

Her jaw flexed. “I would’ve been fine. The jellyfish sting distracted me, but I would’ve been able to swim to shore. And I don’t need to report where I’m going every second of the day to anyone.”

“You do if your plan is to go skinny-dipping drunk in the middle of the night,” he said, his voice rising.

Andre looked back and forth between the two of them, but was obviously smart enough not to jump in the conversation.

Her cheeks heated with a combination of shame and anger. “I don’t need a keeper, Jace. I didn’t need one when you knew me before, and I don’t need one now.”

Jace looked ready to argue the point, but then his shoulders sagged and he released a breath. “You’re right. It’s none of my business. I’m sorry.”

Her fists, which had clenched during the exchange, loosened. This was ridiculous. Why was she arguing with someone she had no intention to lay eyes on ever again? Jace was her past. She’d spent a decade burying her old life and that version of herself. No good could come of dredging up any of those memories. She needed to keep Jace locked away in that “mistakes” box and get out of here.

“Look, I appreciate your help tonight. Really.” She turned to Andre. “And thanks so much for the vinegar. It really helped.”

“No problem, sometimes my Boy-Scout-like preparedness comes in handy.” Andre gave her a little mock salute, but she had a hard time believing the wholesome routine when he was so busy looking like Latin-flavored sin.

Her gaze strayed to the door. “Um, well, I’d better get going.”

Jace ran his fingers through his still-damp blond hair and sighed. “When are you leaving the resort?”

“Today. We have workshops until five and then we’re headed back to Dallas.”

“Let me buy you lunch,” he said, standing in her path when she took a few steps toward the door. “We can catch up.”

She didn’t stop walking. “Jace, I don’t think so. I’ve got a lot going on and am so busy with all this—”

“Hey.” He laid a hand on her forearm when she tried to move around him, halting her. “I want to hear how you’re doing. How your life has been. What happened after you left.”

He meant after she’d run away. And what had happened was that her life had fallen completely the fuck apart. Not exactly fun conversation to share over burgers. And not a story she could ever tell him. She shook her head. “I just can’t, Jace. I’m sorry. Thanks again for your help tonight. It was good to see you.”

Without warning, he tugged her against him and enveloped her in a bear hug. Her cheek pressed against his solid chest, and the intoxicating scent of male wrapped around her. No, not just male scent, Jace’s scent. A warm, familiar smell that yanked her back through time, back to the last moment she could remember feeling truly content.

He kissed the crown of her head. “Take care of yourself, Ev. I’m glad to see you’re okay.”

She pulled out of the embrace, swallowing past the tightness in her throat, and gave him what she hoped was a convincing smile. “I’m doing great, Jace. Just terrific.” Fan-fucking-tastic.

There was a storm behind his green eyes as he stared back at her, but after a moment, he returned her smile and stepped past her to open the door. “Glad to hear it. Now get back to your room before your fiancé comes hunting us down in a jealous rage.”

“Right.” She glanced at Andre, who was watching her and Jace’s exchange intently. “Nice to meet you, Andre. Y’all have fun on the rest of your vacation.”

He lifted a hand in good-bye and after one last look at Jace, she walked out of the room, holding her breath until she heard the door click shut behind her.

* * *

Jace let the door close and then dropped back onto the couch with a groan.

“Whoa, what was that all about?” Andre asked.

Jace pressed the heels of his hands to his brow bone to stave off the fierce pounding that had started there. “Which part?”

“Um, not sure what to start with—Dr. Dan’s woman being here at all or the fact that you totally jumped her shit like you had some right to her.”

Jace shook his head. “We have history. It’s been twelve years, but I know her well enough to see that she’s feeding me a platter of bullshit about being great.”

Andre stretched his legs out and propped them on the coffee table as if ready to settle in for a great story.

Too bad this story sucked.

“She seemed fine to me. You sure you’re not reading too much into it?”

“No, I watched Evan on that beach. She was sad—and drunk. I didn’t know who she was at that point, but I almost got up to talk to her to make sure she was all right. But then she started taking off her clothes, and well, I got a little distracted.”

Andre sniffed. “Can’t blame you there. The girl’s smoking. I saw her in the lobby yesterday and definitely conjured up some mental pictures her fiancé wouldn’t have appreciated.”

Jace tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. “Believe me, I had the same thoughts down on the beach. I flirted with her and, up until she realized who I was, she was giving me all the positive signs—like she was interested.”

“Huh. That’s surprising. She and the doctor are supposed to be some power couple. She stays behind the scenes but he talks about her all the time on his radio show. Their whole image is based on that ‘we’re the super happy All-American couple, so let us help you be that way, too.’” Andre’s snide tone made it clear how he felt about that sentiment.

Jace released a frustrated breath and lifted his head. “See, that’s what I don’t get. If things are going that awesome for her, why was she out there alone at three in the morning looking so lost? And where the hell was her fiancé? He should be looking out for her. She could’ve drowned.”

“She seems pretty tough to me. I doubt she needs anyone watching out for her.”

“Trust me. Evan always needed someone to do that even if she thinks she doesn’t.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Twelve years is a long time. People change.”

He grunted. “No one changes that much.”

“You should let it lie, man. She obviously doesn’t want to reminisce with you and if you push it, you’re going to piss her off and risk her saying something to the doctor. Stay focused on why you’re here.”

Jace stood and stalked over to the mini-fridge to grab a beer. Yes, why he was here. That’s what he needed to concentrate on. Dr. Dan Witter could be the key to dragging Jace’s sales numbers out of the drastic decline they’d been in over the last year. Between the struggling economy and the financial hit he took from his divorce, Jace’s once thriving business was on shaky ground.

If the good doctor agreed to feature Wicked as the best adult store and website for couples on his sure to be a hit new TV show, Reignite the Flame, Jace could almost guarantee that he’d get enough of a bump in business to stabilize his current location and expand the chain.

It was make it or break it time, and make it was the only option he’d consider. He would rather die than admit to his parents that he’d fucked up yet again, that he’d made the wrong decision walking away from his lucrative financial planning job to pursue his passion.

He tipped back the beer and took a long swallow. He just needed to steer clear of Evan. That’s what he should’ve done when he was nineteen and that’s what he needed to do now. He wasn’t the guy looking out for her anymore. If there were things amiss in her life, it was none of his business. And even if he had wanted to make it his business, she’d certainly made it clear she had no intention of talking to him about it.

He turned back to Andre. “You’re right. No use dredging up the past with her anyway. I just wanted to make sure she was doing okay, and I guess she is.”

Andre sat forward, setting his feet back on the floor. “So what’s the deal with you two anyway? How do you know her? Old flame?”

Jace leaned against the wall, feeling his lack of sleep. He didn’t want to talk about this right now—or ever really—but he knew Andre would put on his police interrogator hat if he tried to brush him off. Jace drained the last of his beer. “She lived with my family for a little over a year when I was in college. She was sixteen the last time I saw her. My parents fostered her.”

“What happened at sixteen?”

“She ran away. Without a goddamned trace.” He tossed his bottle in the trash can. “Seeing her again is like seeing a ghost.”

Andre’s forehead wrinkled. “So you were her foster brother? Man, the way she was looking at you, I would’ve bet money that you two had something more than that between you.”

Jace’s stomach knotted—the word brother stirring the old guilt into a maelstrom. His gaze shifted to the sliding glass doors and the darkened beach beyond. “Yeah, well, I’m not done with the story yet.”

THREE

“Sweets, you okay in there?” Daniel tapped on her door. “We missed you at the meeting this morning.”

“I’ll be right out.” Evan twisted her arm behind her, trying to reach the zipper on the back of her sundress. She’d slept through her alarm and had woken up right when she was supposed to be in the middle of a breakfast meeting with Daniel and a potential vendor. Not good.

After one more yoga-like move, she gave up and yanked open the door, finding Daniel leaning against the wall in the hallway, tapping out a text message and looking like an Armani model in his perfectly tailored slacks and dress shirt.

“Can you help me with this?” she asked.

“Hmm?” Daniel looked up from his phone, then pushed off the wall. “Oh, sure.”

“Thanks.” She turned around and waited for him to zip up the dress. “I’m sorry about this morning. I must’ve slept through the alarm.”

“Yeah, I was going to wake you, but you were dead to the world when I peeked in. Guess we all need a lazy morning every now and then, right?”

She shot him a pointed glare over her shoulder, then turned and breezed past him into the suite’s living area.

“What?” he asked, his tone innocent. “Did I say something wrong?”

Marcus, Daniel’s business manager and boyfriend, looked up from his USA Today as she sank onto the couch across from him. He smirked. “Hey you, rough night?”

Her gaze narrowed. “I don’t know, Mr. Yes-Please-Oh-God-Just-Like-That, what do you think?”

Marcus gave her a sheepish grin. “Oh, you heard that?”

She threw a pillow at him, and he ducked behind his newspaper.

“You guys are killing me. I know you’re happy and in love and apparently rock each other’s world, but take pity on the girl in the other room who doesn’t have some sexy man heating up her sheets.”

Daniel sat next to her and put his arm around her. “I’m sorry, sweets. We drank a little too much celebrating the TV deal and got carried away. We didn’t mean to keep you awake.”

“But look.” Marcus lifted a steaming cup from the side table. “I went out and got your favorite fancy coffee for you. Does that help?”

“Marginally.” She sighed and let her head rest against Daniel’s shoulder.

“Is everything else okay?” Daniel asked. “You never miss a meeting, even if you didn’t get a lot of sleep.”

“I’m fine.”

Daniel rubbed her bare arm and looked down at her, his all-knowing brown eyes evaluating her. “Are you sure that’s all? You know if that new medication isn’t working, I can talk to Dr. Barnes about getting you something different.”

Oh, great, here we go. Daniel had been her best friend for too long, and paired with his psych degree, he was a formidable force at poking past her shields. “I don’t need a different medication.”

She didn’t want any medication, for that matter. She’d weaned herself off those horrid antidepressants three months earlier. But she hadn’t quite told Daniel that part yet. She’d planned to first prove how well she was doing off them before breaking the news to Mr. Overprotective. Unfortunately, her behavior last night wasn’t exactly a billboard advertisement for mental stability.

“We saw the empty tequila bottles,” Marcus added, his tone gentle. “It’s not like you to drink like that.”

“Oh, my God. Would you two just stop?” She shrugged from beneath Daniel’s grasp with a huff and rose from the couch, grabbing her coffee from Marcus on the way up. “Seriously, guys, I’m not in the mood for Freud and his trusty sidekick. I couldn’t sleep and listening to you guys had me all keyed up. So I had a few drinks and took a walk on the beach in lieu of a cold shower. That’s all.”

She walked to the glass doors that led to the balcony and stared out at the beach. The stretch of sand that had been so deserted just a few hours earlier was now filled with families and children, happily playing in the surf. She pressed her fingers against the glass, feeling so far removed from that world that the glass may as well have been made of impenetrable steel.

“Ah, the truth reveals itself,” Marcus said from behind her, his tone playful. “That ridiculous vow of celibacy is finally getting to you, isn’t it? I told you it was unnatural.”

She ignored him. Blatantly.

“Is that it, Evan?” Daniel asked. “Are you lonely? I know things have been crazy with this seminar tour and we haven’t been able to spend as much down time together.”

She didn’t turn around, just spoke to her own reflection in the window. “How can I be lonely? I’m always with two men.”

“That’s not the same,” Marcus said.

“He’s right,” Daniel agreed. “We both love you and are so happy you’re with us, but maybe you need to think about finding some physical outlet. It would be good for you.”

She shook her head and turned around. “You want me to get a lover?”

Daniel frowned, his dark eyebrows dipping low. “You know you have that option. When we agreed to this arrangement, I never intended for you to give up sex. That’s been your choice.”

The arrangement. She guessed that was what they were calling it now. Daniel had saved her life and her sanity when they were on the streets. She owed him everything. And she’d never had someone she could count on so wholeheartedly in her life. So she’d readily agreed to do whatever it took to help him with his crazy business idea. But she hadn’t known at the time she’d been signing up to live a lie.

The first radio station manager who’d considered Daniel for a job had told him he couldn’t put Daniel on the air as a relationship guru if he was openly gay. He said—right or wrong—there was no way people in Fort Worth were going to take marriage advice from someone who couldn’t even legally marry.

Evan had wanted to flip off the whole system and move to someplace more open-minded like Austin or maybe even California. But they hadn’t had the money to do that then, and Daniel had been so desperate for a break that he’d come up with the arrangement.

Most of the time she was perfectly content with the decision. She’d never had so much stability in her life. And she was with a man she loved and could trust—even if she would never sleep with him.

Or anyone the way things were going.

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry if it’s not exactly tempting to go jump in bed with some guy who’s totally cool with me cheating on my fiancé.” Evan shuddered. “The kind of sleaze ball who would be okay with that kind of thing is not someone I’d want to get horizontal with.”

Daniel sighed. “I know it’s not ideal, but you have to work with us here. I can’t risk you telling someone the truth. The minute the relationship goes wrong, the guy could blow the whole thing open. Then, all three of us are screwed.”

She groaned. “I get it, okay.”

“Do you? It seems like over the last few months you’ve lost sight of why you agreed to do this in the first place. Don’t forget what it was like before all this, Evan. What it could be like again if we’re not smart.”

She scoffed. Forget? Yeah, right. She’d love to fucking forget. But being on the streets and not knowing if you’d eat from day to day wasn’t something that easily left the memory. “Don’t be an asshole. Believe me, I know why I’m here.”

Daniel’s expression softened. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just, we’ve done all this work and now it’s really happening—national TV. I want you to be happy. Just think, a few more years and you’ll never have to worry about money again. Then, if you want to walk away and do the traditional marriage and kids thing, you’ll still be able to do that.”

Her chest tightened, an invisible band squeezing out all of her air. No, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to do that. Especially the kid part. But she’d never tell Daniel that. She sipped her coffee and turned back to the window. “I’m fine, okay? I think I’m just tired of being on the road. Let’s drop the whole thing.”

“You sure? You know you can talk to us about anything,” Marcus added.

“Then talk to me about today’s agenda,” she said, desperate to redirect the conversation. “Isn’t the first workshop about sex toys?”

Daniel snorted. “Well, that’s not exactly how we labeled it, but yeah, it’s for couples who are looking to spice up their sex lives. The guy we met with this morning is leading it. Should be a fun workshop if the couples can relax a little.”

“Hell, I’m only going so I can stare at the speaker,” Marcus said, the sound of him folding his newspaper half drowning him out. “It’s a damn shame that beautiful man is straight. Even if he hadn’t presented such a great proposal, I would’ve given him our business.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, maybe I’ll put in an order for a few toys for myself. Get myself a new battery-operated lover and solve all our problems.”

“And no sleeping alone tonight,” Daniel said, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “You can share our bed. We promise to behave.”

She turned around in his arms, taking care not to spill her coffee on him, and smirked. “Thanks, that’s sweet, but last time we did that, Marcus snored like a chainsaw the whole night.”

A loud scoff came from behind Daniel. “I did no such thing.”

Daniel chuckled and pressed his forehead against hers. “We’re here for you, sweets. We’re all in this together.” He lowered his voice. “And all we need to do is roll him on his side after he nods off to shut him up.”

“I heard that,” Marcus called.

She couldn’t help but smile. “I do love you guys, you know?”

“Back at ya, buttercup.” He lifted his head and grinned. “Now let’s go learn how to spice up our sex lives and try to keep Marcus from ogling our guest speaker.”

* * *

Evan fiddled with the wire on the PowerPoint projector and cursed the damned machine under her breath for a second time. A few couples had already drifted into the meeting room, and she knew the speaker would be right behind them. Usually, she was pretty good at the technical stuff and had been successfully setting up the meeting equipment for all the workshops this weekend, but her pounding headache and lack of sleep had pureed her brain.

Plus, she’d discovered that the hotel’s wiring was a bit temperamental, so she didn’t want to overload the circuit again. Yesterday she’d nearly plunged the windowless room into darkness when she’d plugged the computer and the projector into the same power strip. For a few seconds the room had looked like a nightclub with all the blinking lights.

She kneeled down and scooted under the table to check that the surge protector was plugged in, making sure not to flash her backside to the audience while doing so. She never wore dresses to these things because she inevitably ended up doing dirty work of some sort, but the welts on her thigh were still too tender to have pants rubbing against them.

“Need some help with that?”

The sound of the familiar voice had her jolting upward, and she banged her head against the table’s underside. “Son of a—”

“Oh, hell,” Jace said, squatting down and peeking at her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. You all right?”

“I think so.” She rubbed her head and took his offered hand so she could climb out from under the table, wondering for a second if she’d actually knocked herself out and was only imagining him here. Imagining him looking this dazzling in crisp black slacks and a polo shirt that perfectly matched his green eyes.

He smiled. “Do I need to render first aid again?”

She shook her head, still a bit dazed, although she was sure the lightheadedness had nothing to do with hitting her head. “What are you doing here?”

“You left before we had a chance to chat last night.” He crooked his thumb at the projector. “I’m today’s speaker.”

The words took a moment to line up in her head. “Wait, what?”

He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and handed over a business card. “Jace Austin at your service. Owner of Wicked which, as of this morning, is the recommended adult boutique and website for Dr. Dan’s loyal fans.”

Daniel stepped up behind Jace and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Jace, I see you’ve met my lovely fiancée. Evan was so disappointed that she missed our meeting earlier. Something came up that she had to take care of.”

Jace’s gaze met hers. “No worries. I’m sure she’s a very busy lady. I’m just happy that the both of you are staying on for the workshop today. Hopefully, I don’t disappoint.”

Daniel smiled. “Ah, I don’t doubt you’ll do great. Just be aware that some of these couples haven’t so much as touched each other in months, sometimes years. So, they may need to be eased into the topic in order to feel comfortable.”

“I understand. My plan is to have them do some non-threatening, sensate exercises with each other, make it fun and just a little sexy. Then hopefully they’ll be relaxed enough to ask questions after that.”

Daniel nodded. “Sounds good. I really want it to be a safe place for them to have an open dialogue. Plus, I want to normalize some of your products so that they feel comfortable to explore. I think beyond the emotional issues, a lot of couples just get bored with their routine in bed.”

“Well, we definitely have a lot of things to alleviate that last problem.” Jace smiled as he looked at her, then back to Daniel. “Hey, would you and Evan want to participate in the couples’ activity? It may help the group feel more comfortable if they see you guys are willing to do it as well.”

Daniel’s gaze drifted to Evan, and she gave a slight shake of the head. He tucked his hands in his pockets, a mischievous glint flickering behind his brown eyes. “Actually, I’m going to be in and out. I have a conference call I have to take in the middle of it, but Evan can help you out. You can do the activity with her.”

She clenched her jaw so it wouldn’t drop open and sent Daniel a what-the-hell-are-you-doing look. “Daniel, I don’t think—”

“I don’t want to put anyone in an awkward position,” Jace said, his eyes shifting toward Evan, his own discomfort evident. “I don’t mind managing on my own.”

“Don’t be silly,” Daniel said. “Evan will be glad to help, won’t you, sweets?”

She pasted on a smile and vowed to kick Daniel’s ass later. “Sure, no problem.”

He probably thought he was doing her a favor—letting her have a little fun with a hot guy, but he had no idea how hard it was for her to even stand next to Jace without stirring up an old ache she’d rather keep dormant.

Jace eyed her in that way he’d done the night before, like he wasn’t buying her bullshit, but his tone was bright when he spoke. “Great. We’ll get started in a little while.”

Twenty minutes later, Evan was ready to slip out the back door and bail on the whole thing. After introductions and a general overview of what he hoped to accomplish in the workshop, Jace had instructed the couples to ditch their chairs and get comfortable on the floor. The attendees were murmuring among themselves as everyone got settled—a little edge of anxiety zipping through the group.

Jace had assured them that these would all be simple exercises, but as he handed out gift bags that contained a number of sexy items—blindfolds, feathers, scarves—the mellow energy of the room had shifted into nervous anticipation.

Jace finished distributing the bags and circled back to the front of the room where she sat on the edge of the stage, bumping her knee up and down in time with her out-of-control heartbeat. He gave her a wary smile before hopping up on the stage and turning toward the audience.

“All right, guys and dolls, the lovely Ms. Kennedy has agreed to be my willing victim to demonstrate the exercise, so I’d like to thank her for her bravery. And hopefully we won’t make the good doctor too jealous.” Jace winked in Daniel’s direction and the audience laughed.

Jace put out his hand and helped Evan to her feet. “Now since Evan’s up here on stage and has a dress on, I’m going to have her sit in a chair for this, but for everyone else, I want one person lying on the ground and their partner sitting next to them. So first I need each couple to decide who is going to be leading the exercise and who is going to be the recipient.”

The crowd began to hum with conversation again as each couple decided who would play what role. Jace turned to her and lowered his voice. “You sure you’re okay with this? I know your fiancé over there kind of threw you to the wolves—or me, in this case. If it’s weird that—”

“It’s fine,” she said, probably a bit too emphatically, then shrugged in an attempt to appear casual. “I’m a big girl, Jace. I can handle a blindfold and a feather.”

His eyes darkened, an unreadable expression crossing his face. “Right.”

He left her alone for a moment, giving her a chance to catch her breath, and headed to the far side of the stage. The lights dimmed slightly and for a moment she thought they’d tripped the circuit again, but then soft music started playing and she realized Jace was setting a relaxing mood for the group.

When he returned to her, he had a chair in tow. She sat down and faced the very attentive audience. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as a paradoxical combination of dread and anticipation came over her.

Jace circled her chair and braced his hands on the back of it, his knuckles grazing her bare shoulders. “All right, everyone, the first thing we’re going to do is establish a safe word. This is something that’s typically used in more serious sexual play, but I think it’s useful in this context as well. If your partner does anything that you are not comfortable with, you say ‘red’ and everything will stop. Understand?”

The audience members bobbed their heads, and Evan resisted the urge to bite her nails.

“This is all about establishing trust with your partner. Once you feel safe with him or her, you’ll find you’re able to let go and have more fun in the bedroom. So, let’s get started by taking out your blindfolds.” Jace bent and grabbed the little black mask from the bag next to her chair. “You want your mate to focus on the sensation of your touch, not everything else going on around them. So slip this over his or her eyes.”

Jace touched her shoulder, and Evan nearly jumped out of the chair.

“Easy, Ev. I’m just going to put this on you.” He walked around the front of her chair, blocking out her view of the audience, and leaned toward her. His hulking presence hovering over her should’ve made her more nervous, but it somehow eased her hopping nerves instead. Their eyes met for a moment, and she thought she saw worry flickering in his. But before she could examine his expression further, he slid the black material over her eyes and blotted out the view.

She took a deep breath, the loss of vision disconcerting her. Darkness was not her thing. She gripped the arms of the chair and strained her ears to get an idea of where Jace was moving. As if sensing her need, Jace laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, grounding her. The tightening muscles in her body loosened.

His voice was soothing when he spoke again. “Now, the only rule is that you can’t touch the person anywhere overtly sexual—arms, legs, head, and face are all in play. Start with soft, easy touches above the neck. Like this.”

Jace’s hand left her shoulder and soon gentle fingertips threaded in her hair and moved in a circular motion against her scalp. A hard shudder of pleasure went through her, and she had to work hard to hold in a sigh.

“Feel free to use your hands or the feather we provided. The person receiving the touch shouldn’t speak unless it’s to use the safe word.”

Evan could hear the shuffling in the room as people adjusted and started the exercise, but all her focus remained on the lovely pressure of Jace’s fingers against her skull.

“Mmm,” she murmured low enough so no one but Jace would hear. “You missed your calling as a salon shampoo girl.”

“I didn’t say you could speak,” he said, his voice low, commanding.

The authority in his tone sent an odd zing through her. Whoa. She shifted in her seat, feeling warmer than she had a second before. She nodded, not sure if an apology would break the no-speaking rule as well.

His fingers halted as if he’d been surprised by something. Breath tickled her ear. “Sorry, Ev. That just slipped out. You can talk if you want.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay. I’ll follow the rules you set for the activity. I can take direction.”

She couldn’t tell if the noise he made was an under-the-breath groan or a grunt of approval, but he returned to the exercise. His fingertips slid down the side of her neck and marked a whisper-light path across her throat that had her holding her breath and squeezing her eyes shut beneath the blindfold. Without consciously deciding to do so, she tilted her head back, giving him better access.

He traced over the line of her collarbone, ever so softly, but so damn effective. It was as if each brush of skin pressed a button on her circuit board, lighting up places that had long gone dim. Delicate threads of warmth traveled down from the press of his fingers to the curve of her breasts, settling right into her quickly hardening nipples.

Dark thoughts of Jace moving his hands lower, slipping beneath the neckline of her dress and cupping her breasts in front of all these people had liquid heat gathering between her thighs. His touch would be firm, confident. He wouldn’t even care that others were watching. He’d just touch her however he pleased. And she’d let him.

She bit her lip. Stop. This is Jace.

She crossed her legs more tightly together.

Even if she could forgive him for how he’d treated her all those years ago, she definitely could never risk being around him again. Not as a friend, and certainly not as anything more. When he’d pushed her away, her entire existence had folded in on itself. Not before or since had she ever fallen for anyone that hard—let a person’s place in her world define if life was worth living or not. It had been stupid. And dangerous. She’d spiraled into the pit of her depression so fast, she’d gotten whiplash.

She knew she wasn’t that bad off anymore. She had taken steps to work with those damaged parts of her makeup. But she also knew Jace being near was like setting heroin in front of a recovering addict. She needed to run in the other direction.

Now if she could just convince her hormones of that.

Jace’s voice broke through the quiet of the room. “If you feel comfortable doing so, you can use the silk scarf to bind your partner’s hands above their head, so they can experience letting go of even more control. Then, you can move to touching the lower half. Keep the touch light and easy.”

Evan could see a bit of movement through the shadow of the mask, and a warm hand grasped her wrist. “Evan, sit up straighter. I’m going to bind your hands behind the chair.”

“Yes, si— I mean, sure.”

Sir? Where the hell had that come from? It’d slipped off her tongue like it was the most natural thing in the world to call him. Must’ve been that authoritative tone he kept using with her. Man, she needed more sleep. She was getting loopy.

Jace made quick work of securing her hands behind the chair. The binding was loose, but the effect potent nonetheless. Her heartbeat picked up speed. She’d never considered herself a control freak, but she’d also learned very early on not to trust anyone but herself. She wet her lips, reminding herself that they were in front of an audience. That this was completely harmless.

A warm palm ran along the back of her calf as Jace lifted her leg from the crossed position and set her foot on the floor. Goose bumps prickled her skin. Okay, maybe not completely harmless. Her libido was under a full-frontal assault.

She could picture him there, kneeling in front of her, knowing he could do whatever he wanted because her hands were tied. He could nudge her knees apart, slide her dress up her thighs, and run his tongue along the outside of her already damp panties. She sucked in a ragged breath. Shit. She needed to stop the fantasy reel before she started panting.

A new vibrator was definitely coming home with her tonight. Depriving herself this long had her on the verge of doing something stupid, like whispering to Jace to meet her in the maid’s closet after the workshop.

And making that kind of mistake would ruin everything she’d worked for.

Not. An. Option.

* * *

Jace was going to fucking lose it. He hadn’t planned for this exercise to go on very long, but there was no way he could turn around and face the audience at the moment. Evan’s lightning-quick physical responses and eagerness to follow instruction had his cock swelling painfully against the zipper of his dress pants.

She’d almost called him sir for the love of God. What was she trying to do? Kill him?

He’d known immediately that doing this exercise with her would be tough, but he thought it’d be because of the old guilt of knowing what had happened the last time he’d really touched her. But hell, he couldn’t even spell the word guilt if he tried at the moment.

All he could think about was how tempting those hard little nipples looked pressed up against the pale blue cotton of her dress. How silky the skin of her legs felt against his hands as he slowly drew his fingers up and down her calves. And how fucking hot she looked blindfolded and bound for him.

No. Not for him. She was someone else’s. He needed to keep that at the forefront of his mind. Shit. He closed his eyes and tried to block out what was happening—focus on something else. War. Sick puppies. Female bodybuilders. Anything that would get the blood flowing back to his brain and out of his throbbing dick.

Because he could not tread in this territory. This was Evangeline—not some chick he could haul off to his hotel room, fuck, and leave. And beyond that, he didn’t mess with other people’s women—not without permission. He’d been on the receiving end of that equation before and refused to inflict that on someone else.

He moved his hands to her knees, hoping those wouldn’t be as tempting as the soft flesh on her legs. But when he grasped them, he felt the little give of her thighs, the slight parting, and he had to bite back a deep groan.

He tried to picture Evan the very first time he’d met her when she was all bones and wide eyes—eyes way too jaded for a fifteen-year-old. But the image wouldn’t appear. All he could think about was the gorgeous woman who sat before him. A woman who probably hated him, who couldn’t even bear to have lunch with him.

He swallowed hard and, using his thumbs, drew tiny circles on the sides of her knees. Counting the rotations as he went, praying it would refocus him. Evan adjusted in her seat a bit and her knees parted enough for him to glimpse the lacey white panties underneath. And holy shit—the view was only half the torture. The sweet, hot scent of female arousal wrapped around Jace like a fist.

He sucked in a sharp breath, and his grip tightened on her. Get up, moron! End the exercise. But instead of listening to the shouting voice of reason in his head, he found his hands inching higher, brushing the tops and insides of her lower thighs, careful not to hit the jellyfish stings. Her legs quivered beneath his touch.

“Oh, God.” The words were so quiet, so full of . . . need, he’d thought for a minute he’d only imagined he’d heard them. But when he looked at her face and the way her teeth were biting into her full bottom lip, he knew she’d said them.

Every nerve in his body seemed to electrify. Christ.

However, before he could figure out how to respond, the lights flickered and blinked out, blanketing the room in darkness. A few sounds of surprise came from the audience behind him.

“What happened?” Evan asked, stiffening beneath his touch, her voice higher than normal.

Before Jace could answer her, Dr. Dan’s voice rang out through the pitch-black space. “Just stay put, everybody. Nothing to worry about. I’ll go tell them to flip the circuit breaker, and we’ll be up and running again in a minute. Relax and stay where you are for now. Don’t want anyone tripping over anyone else.”

Jace started to pull away from Evan, but the sound of her quickening breath gave him pause. “You okay, Ev?”

“Can you see enough to untie me? I . . . It’s hot in here, and I’m feeling kind of . . . claustrophobic.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem.” He hopped to his feet, thankful for the lack of light. Otherwise the audience would see just how effective the exercise had been for him. Reigniting the flame was an understatement; he could set off a fucking forest fire right now.

Carefully, he moved around the back of the chair and felt around until he found her wrists. He hadn’t tied her tightly, so it only took a second to loosen the bindings. Once she was freed, he heard her rustling around—probably taking off the blindfold. He wondered if Evan still had a fear of the dark like she’d had when she was a teenager. His fingers flexed, wanting to reach out and touch her again, make sure she was okay, but he held back.

“Ev, stay in the chair, okay? I don’t want you to fall off the stage.”

No response came.

A few seconds later, the bank of overhead lights flickered back on, and he shielded his eyes from the sudden brightness. He blinked, letting his vision adjust, and found the chair in front of him empty. He looked around the room.

The back exit door was clicking shut, and Evan was nowhere to be found.

Awesome. He’d stepped over the line again, and she’d done exactly what she’d done the last time.

Bailed.

God, he was a jackass.

FOUR

Evan’s muscles ached as she unlocked the front door of her photography studio and went inside. She’d planned to come in earlier to get things in order for re-opening next week. But after the restless night she’d had, she’d decided to go to the gym first for Janice the Evil’s advanced spinning class, hoping the punishing workout would beat her agitation into submission. No such luck. She’d almost puked thirty minutes in and now she just had embarrassment and a sore ass to add to the restlessness.

God, if she could just get some sleep, maybe she could get herself back on track. Since they’d returned from South Padre, she’d tossed and turned every night, her mind racing and her body craving things she couldn’t have. It was as if seeing Jace again had knocked her whole system out of alignment.

Ugh. She dropped her bag and sank into her desk chair. What was the deal? She was the freaking master of blocking things out, of centering herself and focusing on the tasks at hand. But now she just felt . . . scattered. And all the things that usually kept her calm and content weren’t doing a damn thing.

Part of it could still be her body adjusting to being off the medication, but there was no way she was going back to those pills. After so many years on them, she hadn’t even noticed when the healing effects had switched from therapeutic to numbing. Until one day a few months ago when she’d seen her neighbor’s sweet little dog dart across the street during her morning run and get hit by a car. The whole thing had happened in the space of seconds, and her neighbor had immediately rushed to the injured dog’s side. But as Evan had stood there on the curb watching the horrible scene, she’d realized that all the things she should be feeling—sympathy, concern, sadness—were just . . . absent. Like her heart had gone hollow inside her.

That night she’d vowed to work her way off her prescription. She didn’t want or need that crutch anymore. At one time her depression had been dangerous, but she was no longer that girl, and she had no intention of living the rest of her life on deep freeze. But the change hadn’t come without consequences. Her whole system now seemed to be on the fritz.

So she was down to her last resort—the one outlet that had never let her down. Her photography. Maybe if she threw herself into her work, she’d find her way back to the stable existence she’d created before Jace’s reappearance had knocked her off balance.

“Hey, stranger.”

Evan yelped and nearly toppled off her chair. She glanced to the back of the studio where her part-time intern had stuck his shaggy head out from the storage room.

Finn grimaced. “Sorry, I thought you knew I was here. Didn’t you see my motorcycle parked out front?”

She put her hand to her chest, her heart pounding beneath her palm. How had she not even noticed his bike? She really was in a freaking daze. “No, I didn’t.”

“Classes are out this week and I’m not scheduled at the restaurant until late, so I thought I’d come in and help you get things ready to go for Monday. Plus I wanted to experiment with a technique for a still life project I have coming up. I should’ve asked first, I—”

She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry. You just startled me. I’m a bit of a space cadet today. No sleep.”

He locked the storage area behind him and gave her a mock pout. “Poor thing. Traveling the country with your totally tasty fiancé. Must be a real hardship. I could take over for you, if you’d like.”

She rolled her eyes. “Though you are prettier than me, Daniel’s too old for you. You’re what? Twenty-two?”

“Twenty-three.” He smirked and tucked his inky black hair behind his ears. “And age I can work with. But that whole him being straight thing might get in the way.”

She sniffed. If Finn only knew how wrong he was on that one. “So how’d the Allen shoot go last week?”

Even though she’d shut the studio down for the most part while she was out, she had let Finn take on a few simple jobs to get in some practice. He’d been with her six months and had proven to be more than reliable despite the fact that he was balancing community college classes and a waiter gig along with his internship. The eager desire to learn reminded her of how she’d been when she’d first discovered photography. And his talent behind the camera was so innate that she had full trust that her clients would be happy—especially with the intern discount she’d given them. She was already feeling awful that she’d have to let him go when she, Daniel, and Marcus moved to L.A. in a few months.

He shrugged. “It was cake. Just a couple of business headshots. She didn’t want anything too”—he did air quotes—“out there.”

“Oh, Lord.”

“Yeah, so nothing fun. She wouldn’t even do outdoor shots. I gave her what she wanted—boring pictures in front of a bookcase.” He shook his head sadly. “A little part of my creative genius died on the inside.”

He stepped to the file cabinet behind her desk and pulled out a folder. He tossed copies of the black-and- white proofs on her desk.

She picked them up and scanned through them. Even with the ho-hum background, Finn had captured the spark in the elderly executive’s eyes and her take-no-shit smile. “These look great—excellent lighting. You made her look a decade younger.” She handed the sheets back to him. “I appreciate you accommodating her wishes. Hopefully we can get something more fun for you to shoot next time.”

“No worries. I’m just glad you’re back so we can start booking some bigger stuff again.”

“Me, too.” She choked down the little pang of sadness that hit her at the thought of only having a few months left in this studio. Yes, she planned to get something new set up in California, but nothing would ever be like this little place.

It was located in what her real estate agent had called a “transitional neighborhood” when she’d first leased it. Evan had learned that this basically meant the little cluster of historic buildings was starting to be restored and inhabited by an eclectic blend of artists and other start-up business owners. But it also meant that if you hung around the area too late at night, your chances of getting mugged were pretty solid.

Finn shut the file cabinet and crooked a thumb at the door. “Hey, I was just about to go pick up a sandwich. You want me to grab you something?”

“Sure. Roast beef sounds good. Might as well completely negate my spinning session from this morning.”

He laughed. “Got it. Be back in a little while.”

After Finn headed out, she booted up her computer and checked the list of messages he’d stacked on her desk, grimacing a bit at the painfully low number of inquiries that had come in while she’d been out. Even with Finn covering the occasional headshot and family photo session, the workshop tour and her absence had delivered a serious blow to her business.

This kind of business was based on word of mouth and being available right when someone needed you. People planning weddings, children’s portraits, and senior high school pictures weren’t going to wait around for a photographer to call them back. They would just call the next one on the list. She’d once had a steady business building and now it was dying a slow death.

Well, no more. She refused to let her involvement with Daniel’s business hamper her own dream any further. She’d work as much as she could these next few months before closing the doors here, but she also would dedicate herself to building contacts in California. Los Angeles was going to be a nightmare to have a start-up—a place where everyone needed headshots but no one wanted to work with an unknown. She’d have to be dogged in her pursuit of business once she got a location up and running out there. Because giving up her photography was not an option no matter how successful Daniel became.

She was thrilled with everything he was accomplishing and the money it was bringing in for all of them, but that didn’t fulfill her like getting behind the camera did. There was something about capturing a person’s emotions on film that spoke to the deepest part of her. She had accepted that she probably wouldn’t get a chance to marry her soul mate or show off a new baby to the world. Hell, she hadn’t even had a high school graduation, just a GED sent in the mail. But somehow, documenting other people’s happy milestones helped fill the space inside her where she should’ve been storing her own. And it was time to start filling it again.

She picked up her phone to return the first call, but the bells on the studio’s front door jangled, halting Evan from her task. She looked up from her desk with a frustrated huff to find her friend Callie sweeping through the door, her mass of blonde curls staging a riot against the clip fastened at the back of her head. Callie pushed the offending locks from her face and beamed at Evan. “You’re here! I thought you weren’t coming back to work until Monday. I was just about to call you to wish you a happy early birthday when I saw your car parked out front.”

Evan smiled as she hung up the phone and stood. Callie dropped her overstuffed purse to the floor and rushed toward her to give her a hug. Evan laughed while the taller woman squeezed her for dear life.

“Wow, I . . . uh . . . missed you, too.”

“What are you doing here? I thought Daniel was going to keep you all to himself this week.”

“I just stopped in for a few minutes to return some calls before I reopen next week.”

Callie finally released her and put her hands on her hips. “For the record, you are not allowed to take this much time off ever again. I swear if I have to have one more lunch with Flower Shop Trisha, I’m going to keel over. She’s so prim and proper, I feel like I’m having soup with the queen or something. I know she’s probably lighting candles for me at church after some of the stuff I’ve slipped up and told her.”

“Well your immortal soul could probably use all the help it can get.”

Callie plopped into the chair in front of Evan’s desk. “Amen, sister. Though I just finished a weeklong cayenne and lemon juice detox. The way it’s been going, I think even my soul is cleansed.”

Evan snorted. “Why on earth are you doing that?”

Beyond the fact that Callie bashed diets regularly for cutting into her profits at her bakery across the street, she’d always seemed comfortable with her curves.

Her grin turned sly. “Well, a lot has happened since you went gallivanting around the country with that man of yours.”

“Oh, really? Do tell.”

“I have a new boyfriend,” she said in a singsong voice. “A new, devastatingly handsome, completely wonderful boyfriend. Even Finn gave him the thumbs-up in the looks department, and you know how picky that kid is. So I don’t want to look like a dumpling next to him when we go out.”

“Hold up. A new boyfriend? Cal, I talked to you at least once a week. You didn’t even mention you were seeing someone.”

“I didn’t want to jinx it,” Callie said, crossing her arms with a huff. “Every time I tell you about how great some guy I’m seeing is, I find out the next week that he has some catastrophic flaw—like he has an addiction to hookers or is a diabetic and can’t eat cake. You’re bad luck.”

Evan shook her head, amused. Her friend did have abysmal luck when it came to men, but somehow she doubted it had anything to do with a jinx. Cal had a tendency of falling fast and asking questions later. Evan had learned that warning her to slow down was like talking to a coffee table. And hell, who was she to give relationship advice? She was marrying her gay best friend.

She leaned forward and placed her chin on her hands. “All right, so dish. Who is he? What’s he do? And, more important, does he like baked goods?”

Callie sat up straighter, obviously bubbling over after holding back the secret so long. “His name is Brandon. He’s a nurse over at the cancer center. And he’s a total slut for chocolate cupcakes.”

“Sounds amazing.”

“Totally,” she said, her eyes getting a little starry. “He’s picking me up for my end-of-diet lunch. I texted him to meet me over here.”

“Great.”

“He loved the photos you have hanging in the shop, by the way. Said you knew how to make a piece of pie look downright seductive.”

Evan laughed. “My claim to fame—sexy cherry pie.”

“Hey,” she said, pointing at her, “don’t underestimate yourself. I sell more of the products you photographed than any others. Seriously, you have a gift of making things look irresistible on film.”

Evan’s stomach clenched a bit with that last part. A gift. Yes, once upon a time she’d made someone a whole lot of money with that innate talent. She rubbed her arms through her sleeves, trying to fight off the creeping chill that always came with those horrid memories.

“Hey now, there’s an idea,” Callie said, completely oblivious to Evan’s sudden discomfort.

She took a deep breath and tried to refocus on the conversation. “What’s that?”

“I should get you to take pictures of me.”

“Huh?” Evan’s eyebrows knitted.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Callie waved her off. “I’m serious. I’ve been trying to come up with something to get Brandon for his birthday, and I bet he would totally be into some sexy boudoir-style pics. We haven’t, ya know, done the deed yet, so maybe that would get the ball rolling. He’s that gentlemanly type and his slow approach is kind of driving me crazy.”

Evan frowned. “Maybe slow isn’t a bad thing.”

“Pfft! I’m not getting any younger. No use burning daylight. So do you think you could make me look as sexy as that cherry pie?”

Evan pinched the bridge of her nose, Callie’s question only bringing the past farther to the front of her mind—the haunted eyes of the women who’d posed before her camera. The sick feeling that came along with knowing you were sacrificing someone else’s dignity to save your own ass. “I don’t really do that style of picture, Cal.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be a prude.”

She sighed. “It’s not about that. It’s just, are you really going to trust a guy you just started dating with half-naked pictures of yourself? What happens when—”

She held up a finger. “Nope. Don’t finish that sentence. I’m doing that whole putting positive energy into the universe thing. I’m not even considering that this guy isn’t going to work out. Now will you take photos for me or not?”

“Cal, I—”

Callie’s phone dinged and she checked the screen. Her smile turned florescent. “Oh, he’s so sweet.”

Evan hated that Callie already had that smitten-beyond-repair look. Even if this Brandon was a nice guy, giving your heart to anyone that easily had disaster written all over it. Evan had firsthand experience on that one.

“He’s waiting outside. Sorry to stop by and then run off,” Callie said. “But I only have a little while for lunch. We’re shorthanded so Jessica will probably go on strike if I’m not back by one to help her.”

“No problem,” Evan said, ready to get back to her own work anyway. “We’ll catch up next week.”

Callie pointed a finger at her and arched an eyebrow. “And you are so doing those photos for me. I’ll withhold petit fours otherwise.”

“Hateful bitch.”

She laughed. “Ta for now. Don’t work too hard.”

Yeah, right. That was exactly what Evan planned to do. Work so hard that she had no space left in her mind, her bed, or her heart for anything else.

FIVE

Jace straightened the display of erotic novels as his best friend, Reid, selected one of the paddles from the rack on the other side. Reid flipped it around in his hand, testing the weight and feel of it. He held it up to Jace. “Really?”

Jace shrugged, the sight of his suit-clad friend holding up a paddle with the words “bad girl” scrawled in pink a comical picture. “The newbies like that kind of thing. Makes ’em feel scandalous. It’s got great thud, though.”

Reid smacked it against his own thigh. Frowned. “Brynn needs more bite than that. Plus, she may laugh herself right out of the scene if she sees what’s on it.”

Jace grabbed a utilitarian black paddle with holes in it from the shelf. “Try this one. The holes lessen air resistance and give you more impact.”

Reid took it from him to examine it. He sliced it through the air, the whooshing sound making Jace’s skin itch. God, he loved that sound. Even better was the noise the sub made when it smacked against her bare skin.

“Mmm, better,” Reid agreed.

“So how is that beautiful blonde of yours? You haven’t brought her by in a while. Still afraid she’s going to realize the error of her ways and come sub for me instead?”

Reid shot him a deadly look. “Don’t make me test this paddle on your skull, smartass.”

Jace laughed. A more tactful friend probably wouldn’t make a point to remind Reid on a regular basis that Jace had shared Reid’s soon-to-be-wife with him one night. But Jace had never claimed to have tact. Plus, he’d never been able to resist getting his oh-so-calm friend ruffled.

“You don’t need to be worrying about my woman,” Reid said, tucking the paddle under his arm and moving on to the vibrator section of Jace’s store. “Worry about your own women. I ran into your mother the other day at the grocery store, and she said you never come when she invites you to family dinners. That ain’t right, man. I ended up agreeing to stop by for one because she looked so damn sad about it.”

Jace sighed. “Family dinners involve having conversation with my dad. And by conversation, I mean me listening to him talk about what a failure and a fuckup I am. They’ll probably appreciate your company more.”

“Look, your dad’s a dick, but you need to tough one out for your mom. She’s looking worn down with all this. Maybe having you there will give her a boost.”

Jace grimaced. He loved his mom and felt like a dirtbag for contributing at all to her being upset, but he hadn’t made it through a family meal since he opened up Wicked without having a knock-down, drag-out fight with his father. Seeing that wouldn’t do his mother any good. “I’ll try to make it over there for one.”

Reid nodded and turned down the next aisle. “So how’s business looking?”

Jace shrugged. “It’s been better. It’d help if I could get Diana to stop drawing alimony.”

“I petitioned the court to relieve you of that obligation. Diana’s still maintaining an apartment address, but I had that PI I know follow her for a couple of weeks. She’s living with Greg full time like you suspected.” Reid grabbed a few more items off the shelf. “It’s still a long shot.”

“Un-fucking-believable.” He’d already given her half of everything when they divorced and had paid a monthly stipend for two years. It’d been more than she deserved since she’d been the one to walk out on him. But he’d been so numb after she’d left that he’d just agreed to whatever instead of going through a nasty court battle.

Reid grabbed a G-spot stimulator and a pack of nipple clamps then handed all of the items to Jace. “I know, man. I’m doing the best I can. But it might be worth it to try and talk with her. Nicely. Appeal to her reasonable side.”

Jace scoffed as he walked to the front of the store and dumped Reid’s selections on the counter so his cashier could ring them up. “Diana doesn’t have a reasonable side.”

Reid tossed his credit card on the counter. “You better find one. Otherwise, she’s got a decent shot of syphoning more money from you.”

“Dammit. Isn’t there a point where I stop getting fucked over? You’ve barely lost a case in your life. Can’t we win?”

Reid frowned as he took his bag from the cashier. “Look, I’m going to do everything I can, but it hurts that you didn’t take her to task during the initial divorce. She doesn’t look like the bad guy in the court records.” He laid a hand on his shoulder. “Talk to her, Jace. And I’ll do what I can on my end.”

Jace walked Reid out then stalked into his office ready to breathe fire. Fucking Diana. Just what he needed. Hadn’t it been enough that she’d ripped his heart out and made him look like a goddamned fool? Now she wanted to suck his bank account dry, too?

Jace stared out the second-floor window and the darkened shops across the street. Wicked was one of the few stores open this late on a Thursday night. He’d landed a prime piece of real estate tucked between high-end clothing stores, a gourmet chocolate shop, and a salon. It was the perfect shopping spot for women and couples who may not feel comfortable venturing into the seedy part of town and going to a windowless dive with an Adult Videos sign flashing above.

But the tradeoff for having such a swank spot was that he also didn’t get the cheap and easy business—the guys just coming in to grab a porno or some skin mags. He didn’t sell either. Well, unless you counted some of the how-to videos they had in stock. So he had to count on the customers who weren’t afraid to spend decent money on quality products. And with the economy the way it was, those customers were getting fewer and farther between.

The money he hoped to get through the deal with Dr. Dan would allow him to beef up his stock and Internet presence and offer more variety in price point. But if Diana kept milking him for alimony, he was going to run out of capital before the Dr. Dan thing even bore fruit.

He flipped the blinds closed just as his office door opened. Andre stepped in and leaned against the doorjamb, looking every bit the pissed-off cop. “She’s a leech. Have I mentioned that?”

Jace snorted. “Guess you saw Reid.”

“What’s her deal? She’s had years to get on her feet. Feet that I’m sure get a weekly pedicure and massage using your money.”

Jace sank into his desk chair and rubbed a hand over his face. “This is the last thing I need. I’ve been crunching numbers all night. If it weren’t for my contract with The Ranch, I’d be in some serious shit right now. I was counting on freeing up the money I was paying her each month to put toward the website and building stock. Now I’ve gotta go play nice and hope she grants me mercy when all I really want to do is ring her neck. And Greg’s. What kind of asshole stands by and lets some other dude support the mother of his kid?”

Andre’s shoulder radio squawked, and he pressed the button to respond. He looked up when he was done. “Don’t go see her or Greg yet. You need to take a break and get away from that desk and those P&L statements. You go see them while you’re like this, and I’ll be arresting you for bodily assault.”

Jace grunted. He’d never lay a hand on a woman without her consent, but Greg was a whole different story. Bodily assault was starting to sound real tempting. Or maybe just massive intimidation and threats to relocate the guy’s nuts. Could he get arrested for that?

Andre’s frown deepened. “See, I can already see you contemplating maiming and dismembering.”

“Killjoy.”

Andre pushed off the doorframe. “Look, we both need to blow off steam. I’ve been busting my ass to get that promotion. They have me shadowing the detectives on this huge case and still covering my regular beat. I’ve switched from days to nights so many times these last two weeks, I don’t even know what time it is. Plus, you’ve been a miserable fuck since we got back from South Padre.”

“You know your lease is up this month, so you’re more than welcome to move somewhere else.”

Andre flipped him off. “All I’m saying is that we should go have some fun this weekend. Recharge.”

Jace perked up. A fun weekend?

Andre was right—that was exactly what he needed. Since they’d returned to Dallas, Jace had felt off, like he couldn’t quite get back into the groove. And it had nothing to do with Wicked’s bank account. The moment that had passed between him and Evan had replayed in his mind one too many times. And getting hard night after night thinking about a girl who was off limits was getting him nowhere. He knew just the kind of weekend he needed.

“Andre, I think that’s a genius plan.”

He grinned. “Of course it is. That’s the only kind of plan I come up with.”

Jace smirked. “I’ll deal with Diana next week. There’s no way I’m letting her earn any more money off my back. And I’ll figure out this mess with Wicked. I have some new radio and print ads going live this weekend, so maybe that will drum up some new business.”

“You could always ask your parents to release the rest of your trust fund. The money’s supposed to be yours.”

“I’d rather live in a box than give in and ask them for a penny of that damn money. That shit is so laced with strings, I might as well sign up to be a marionette.”

“Well, if they ever want to send any of it over my way, I’ll happily join the family financial business and toe the line. I’d at least get to sleep sometimes.”

Jace chucked a pen at Andre, who deftly ducked out of the way.

“Kidding.” Andre checked his watch, his break probably over. “I’ll set things up for the weekend. Any requests?”

Yes. A dark-haired beauty with ice blue eyes and a mouth that begged to be tasted. A woman who clearly had never been under a master’s hand, but whose body had responded the instant her hands were tied—in front of a live audience no less. He shoved Evan’s image from his head. “See if there are any new members.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “You want a newbie?”

“Yes.” Anything to make him forget an oldie.

SIX

This was not how Evan had anticipated spending her birthday. She folded her hands in her lap and tried to keep an interested look on her face as one of the reporters asked Daniel another question about the planned television show.

She thought she’d have some time to get her head wrapped around the idea that they—well, Daniel—was going to have his own TV show. But two weeks after signing the deal the word was out, and the Dallas papers wanted to know all the details. The glare of the spotlight was already dangerously close to making her break out in hives. She much preferred being the one behind the flashbulb.

“Ms. Kennedy, are you going to be part of the show?” the female reporter asked, turning her head toward Evan.

She sat up a little straighter on the couch. “I plan to stay in more of a behind-the-scenes role.”

Daniel put a hand on Evan’s knee. “Evan’s going to be in the audience most days, and I plan to call upon her when we need a woman’s perspective. Hopefully, we can get her over her stage fright so she can become a bigger part of the show.”

Evan tensed beneath his grip. What the hell was he talking about? They had never discussed her stepping into that kind of role. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from blurting out the question for him. She gave the handful of reporters a tight smile.

After a few more questions were lobbed at Daniel and more photos were taken of the both of them, the group finally filed out of the house. Evan barely waited for the front door to click shut behind them before whirling around and pinning Daniel with a deadly glare. “Have you been drinking? Hit in the head with a blunt object?”

His eyebrows knitted. “What’s the matter?”

She put her hands out to her sides. “Get over stage fright? Since when am I supposed to be on camera? That’s not part of the deal. You know I don’t want that.”

He gave a put-upon sigh and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Calm down, sweets. It’s just something the producers mentioned would be a good idea. You’re beautiful and smart. They think you’ll add to the brand better if you’re not hiding in the background.”

She groaned. “I’m not hiding, Daniel. I’m working my ass off with all the detailed stuff you don’t like to deal with. The limelight is your dream, not mine. And how am I supposed to be at all the show tapings and still get my new studio off the ground?”

He frowned. “Evan, you don’t have to worry about turning a profit with your photography. The money from this deal will be more than enough to support all of us.”

She stared at him in disbelief, then wriggled from beneath his grasp. So her photography business was expendable—a little hobby that didn’t bring in enough cash to count for anything. She stormed past him before she said everything that wanted to spill out of her mouth. “Whatever, Daniel.”

* * *

Evan ignored the soft knock on her door as she finished putting on her eyeliner. An hour of alone time had eased her down from her boiling point, but she was still at a steady simmer. She had half a mind to go to her birthday dinner alone.

“Evan, it’s Marcus. Can I come in? I have mail for you.”

She blew out a breath and capped the eyeliner. “It’s not locked. And you could’ve come up with a better excuse than that.”

He cracked open the door and stuck his head in tentatively, like he was afraid she was going to chuck a shoe at him or something. It would’ve been tempting had it been Daniel. “You doing all right in here?”

“Peachy,” she said with a saccharine smile.

He opened the door the rest of the way and stepped in, frown lines marring his smooth complexion. “Don’t mind Daniel. His mouth is just moving too fast for his brain. He’s so excited about finally reaching his dream that he hasn’t slowed down to really consider how everyone else might feel about it.”

She sighed and clicked off the light on her makeup mirror. “Look, no one is happier for him than I am. You know that. I know where he came from and how big of a deal this is. I just need him to understand that it’s not my dream. I’m dedicated to making this work for all of us, but my financial interest is so that I can run my studio, not have to stress about money, and be able to . . . take care of a few things. The fame part is not my deal.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Fame might not be that bad, you know.”

Fame. Her stomach did a flip. She’d spent a lot of time honing this new life—changing her name, refining her look, sloughing off her old life—not just to get a fresh start but to escape the demons lurking in her past. Having her picture splashed across the papers or television wasn’t exactly lying low.

“I’m not going to be on camera, Marcus. Get that through Daniel’s head and we’ll all be square.”

He stepped behind her and set the stack of mail on the vanity table before giving her shoulders a little squeeze. “He won’t make you do anything you don’t want to, okay?”

She nodded. “I know.”

“Now, why don’t we drop this whole thing for now and focus on going out and celebrating your birthday?” He waggled his eyebrows at her in the mirror. “We have a gift I promise will put a smile on your face.”

“Oh, Lord. Now you have me nervous.”

He laughed. “Come on, hot stuff. We don’t want to miss our reservation.”

* * *

By the time dinner wrapped up, Evan found herself without the energy to hold her grudge. Sulking was hard to maintain when so much fabulous food and wine were being consumed.

“If your evil plan was to stuff me with buttered scallops and cheesecake so that I wouldn’t be mad at you anymore, it’s working,” Evan said, licking a bit of strawberry sauce off her fork.

Daniel laughed. “I would never stoop so low as to prey upon your food-whore tendencies.”

She tossed her cloth napkin at him. “Liar.”

Marcus stole the last bite of their shared dessert and pointed his fork at Daniel. “Tell her what’s next while she’s still on her sugar and champagne buzz.”

She eyed the two men, a little twinge of anxiety going through her. “What are you two up to?”

Daniel grasped her hand across the table. “Sweets, I know we haven’t brought it up since our little discussion in South Padre, but Marcus and I have noticed you’ve been on edge for months.”

“Oh, come on, not this again,” she complained. “I told you I’m fine, Doctor. Totally stable.”

He shook his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Chill out. I’m not psychoanalyzing you. You’ve just been a tad bit . . .”

“Bitchy?” Marcus offered before sipping his drink.

“Hey,” she said, shooting him an offended look.

“I was going to say tense,” Daniel said, bumping Marcus with his shoulder. “I really do think it’s this whole celibacy thing getting to you.”

She blinked in surprise, the subject catching her off guard. Now they were discussing her lack of a sex life at dinner? Her earlier hint of nerves ratcheted up to dread. “Wait a second, what does that have to do with what’s happening next?”

“Well, we thought for your birthday we’d help you with that little issue,” Marcus said, obviously fighting a smile.

“My issue?” Her mind took a moment to fully process the words. “Wait, with my celibacy issue?”

Daniel grinned. “Exactly.”

She pulled her hand from Daniel’s and stared at the two of them in disbelief. How in the hell could two gay men help her with her celibacy issue? They surely weren’t going to volunteer to go bi or straight for the night. She almost laughed at the notion, but then a disgusting thought hit her, making her choke. “Oh, no. No way.”

“What?” Daniel asked in a tone worthy of a halo and wings.

“I swear to God if you paid for some escort or something, I’m seriously going to kill you two right here at the table.”

Daniel leaned back in his chair and sipped his coffee with a casual elegance that had Evan ready to throw something more damaging at him than her napkin. He set down his cup. “Evan, we would never do that to you. You deserve better than that.”

“Definitely,” Marcus said, sliding an envelope onto the table. “Like a membership to The Ranch. Three months fully paid.”

She stared down at the little white envelope and the red R emblazoned on its wax seal. The thing looked innocuous enough, but she had a feeling the gift inside was far from innocent. She raised her gaze, hoping she was wrong. “Is that some sort of spa or something?”

Daniel’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “Not exactly.”

“Jesus, Daniel, tell me it’s not a brothel.” She had no idea if they even had brothels with dude prostitutes, but she wasn’t putting anything past her two friends. They were kinky bastards.

Marcus rolled his eyes. “Stop messing with her, D. You’re freaking her out.”

“Oh, neither of you are any fun,” Daniel said, motioning to the waiter for a coffee refill, then looking back to Evan. “It’s not a brothel, for God’s sake. It’s a resort where people go to live out their fantasies, explore their . . . inclinations with each other.”

“Inclinations?” she repeated. “Like figuring out if they’re gay or straight? ’Cause, no offense, but I don’t have any doubts there.”

His eyebrow arched. “I’m sure some go there for that. But this is more about venturing into things you may not have access to in your day-to-day life. Fantasies. Role-playing. Multiple partners. Bondage. In your case, maybe just a confidential sexual partner.”

Her hands turned sweaty against the booth’s leather seat as she replayed his list in her head. Role-playing. Bondage. She parted her lips, but the words stuck to her tongue.

Marcus pushed the envelope closer to her. “I’ve been a member for a while. The place is top notch—safe, exclusive, uber private—and has very strict membership requirements.”

Her brain began to spin. A sex club? They wanted her to go to a sex club? The boys were out of their freaking minds.

“It’s all very confidential,” Daniel added. “I don’t want you to reveal our situation, but members will know you’re engaged and that your fiancé approves of you being there. People there won’t blink an eye at that. They’re used to unique situations.”

She looked back and forth between the two of them as her ability to form sentences returned in a rush. “You seriously expect me to just go there and have sex with strangers? Are you nuts?”

Marcus gave her a sympathetic look. “You can do whatever you feel comfortable with. No one’s going to make you participate. But don’t shut yourself off to the possibility until you see the place. You may be surprised how things change in that kind of environment—how your mind opens up. They specialize in BDSM, but I’m sure they can accommodate whatever situation or fantasy is most enticing to you.”

Her mind automatically rewound to the day in the seminar room—Jace tying her hands and being in control, touching her. She’d accessed that scene in her head countless times over the last two weeks, had touched herself as she filled in the blanks of what could’ve happened if they’d been alone and had no past to contend with.

And still, despite the constant fantasy rerun, the effect hadn’t worn off. Even now, heat built low in her belly at the mere thought. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, a champagne headache starting. “Guys, really, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I don’t need this. I’m fine.”

“We’ve already packed your bag, and there’s a car waiting for you outside,” Daniel said, causing her head to snap up. “Grant Waters, the owner of the place, has set up a tour for you tonight so you can see it before people start arriving for the weekend retreat tomorrow. We’ve also reserved you a private cabin.”

“Daniel,” she demanded, trying to keep her voice low enough so that it wouldn’t garner the attention of the people at the other tables. “You can’t actually expect me to go to this place.”

He frowned. “Look, if you go on the tour and decide not to participate in anything, then take the weekend to enjoy the scenery and the cabin. It’s beautiful out there and surrounded by vineyards. Plus, I think they do have a masseuse on staff if you really want to do the spa thing. I think the break will be good for you regardless.”

“And Daniel and I are going to be doing press for the next few days. If you’re on a ‘spa’ weekend, it will save you from having to be a part of it,” Marcus added.

She kept her eyes on them and gulped the last of her champagne, shocked to find herself actually considering the whole thing.

A weekend away from the press—and the boys, for that matter—did sound kind of tempting. And she hated to admit it, but for some reason, the whole celibacy thing was suddenly driving her mad. Going solo with her vibrator hadn’t fixed anything. In fact, it’d only made her fantasize and want sex more. It was as if seeing Jace again had tripped some wire inside her.

She blew out a long breath. She could throw herself into her work like she had planned, but deep down she knew this restlessness wasn’t going to go away so easily. Wasn’t this what she’d really been yearning for? A bit of physical indulgence without all the complications.

And at least at this place the guy would know she wasn’t cheating, but doing it with her fiancé’s consent. That helped. Felt less seedy to do it under the pretense of being kinky instead of being a lying cheat.

Maybe if she could have a real live man to warm her bed for a few days, she could cleanse her mind of these stupid Jace fantasies. She’d been infatuated with him when she was a teenager, weaving daydreams about what it would be like to be with him. Apparently her mind had gone straight back to that old place—forgetting how awful it had been after she’d actually gotten what she thought she wanted. Stupid.

She needed an exorcism. And this might be just the thing to do it. She grabbed the envelope off the table and nodded at the guys. Resolved.

“Okay, I’ll go. But”—she jabbed a finger at Marcus then Daniel—“if this turns out to be creepy or gross in any way, I’m holding both of you responsible. I will seriously dig out all those toys I know you guys have and beat you with the most painful ones.”

Marcus snorted. “Daniel might actually enjoy that.”

She rolled her eyes.

Daniel ignored Marcus’s comment and smiled at her. “Happy birthday, sweets.” He lifted his coffee cup. “Here’s hoping you have fun. It’ll be like losing your virginity all over again.”

Oh, God, she hoped not. Losing it the first time had been the worst mistake she’d ever made.

SEVEN

Evan’s palms were damp against the arms of the overstuffed chair as she waited for the owner of The Ranch to meet with her. The limo drive to the place had been long, and as the minutes had slipped away, so had her resolve.

She glanced around the well-appointed sitting room, trying to focus on anything but her reasons for being here. Dark, rustic furniture, wood floors, artwork displaying Texas’s varied landscapes, and a large stone fireplace, which she was sure was more for show than practicality in this climate. If she didn’t know better, she would’ve guessed she was in some high-end ski resort and not a retreat specializing in kink.

She tilted her head back and groaned. This was stupid. Ridiculous. She wasn’t the type of person to go to a sex resort. Was she really that desperate? She’d lived without sex for over a year. Why was it suddenly such a big deal?

There could only be one reason.

Goddamn Jace. He’d always been able to stir up that part of her without trying. Even when she’d first met him and hadn’t totally recognized the feeling as desire, she’d been drawn to him, wanted to be in his sphere of attention as much as possible. He had a way of making her feel like she was the only one in the room, and after years of being invisible to everyone around her that feeling had been heady, addictive. She should’ve been immune to it by now. But after a few seemingly harmless touches on that stage, Jace had flipped the switch and had her engines firing on all cylinders again. Man, she was screwed.

A massive wooden door on the opposite side of the room eased open, and an impossibly tall man with wavy dark hair stepped inside. He gave her a smile that seemed to warm the whole room. “You must be Ms. Kennedy.”

The deep twang in his voice matched the cowboy boots peeking out of the bottom of his faded jeans. The image totally didn’t fit with what Evan had imagined the owner of this type of resort to look like. She hadn’t expected head-to-toe leather or anything, but a handsome cowboy hadn’t been on her radar of possibilities either.

She smiled. “That’d be me. But please, call me Evan.”

He crossed the room in two long strides and put his hand out to shake hers. “Welcome to The Ranch, Evan. I’m Grant Waters, the owner and operator.”

She shook his hand, hoping he didn’t notice just how sweaty her palm was. “Nice to meet you.”

He held her hand for a moment longer, holding her gaze, no doubt evaluating her, and then stepped back to sit on the couch across from her. He crooked a thumb at the door. “Would you like something to drink? We have everything but alcohol here.”

No alcohol? Well, so much for plan A on how she was going to get up enough nerve to do this. She shook her head. “No thanks. I’m fine.”

“So, I hear your fiancé surprised you with a membership.”

She crossed her legs to keep her knee from bumping up and down with nerves. “Um, yes. I’d never even heard of this place until tonight.”

“Well, we don’t exactly advertise.” He braced his forearms on his thighs, leaning forward a bit. “Interesting choice of a gift—to give you a membership and not get one for himself. Any ideas on why he would do that?”

The timbre of his voice was low, seemingly casual, but she didn’t miss the sharp glint in his eyes. This man was making sure she was on the up and up. She squirmed a bit in her seat. Despite how often she had to do it, she hated lying, especially to someone who looked like he could smell bullshit from thirty paces. She scrambled for some plausible explanation. “I . . . Well, I haven’t been all that sexually adventurous in my life, and I think he’s worried if I don’t sow my oats or whatever, I’ll always wonder after we’re married.”

Grant seemed to chew on that for a moment. “Just because you get married doesn’t mean you’re locked down to non-adventurous sex. Lots of couples come here for ménage or to switch partners. Or even if they only engage with each other, there are lots of things a couple can do between themselves to spice things up.”

She wet her lips thinking of threesomes, couple swaps. The ideas should have appalled her, but instead her body awakened as all kinds of illicit images flooded her mind. “Daniel’s not exactly into any of that stuff.”

Grant gave a sage nod. “Ah, I see. Vanilla guy marrying a girl who may not be so traditional.”

She sighed. “I honestly don’t know if I’m traditional or not. I haven’t really explored very much.”

His lips curved into a kind smile, one that eased the tension that had filled the room a few seconds before. “So what are you hoping to experience here, Evan?”

She twisted her engagement ring round and round on her finger. What was she hoping to experience? She’d had naughty fantasies in her life—who hadn’t? But what would she actually want if giving carte blanche? “I’m not sure.”

He rubbed a hand over his five-o’clock shadow, considering her. “Why don’t we walk around the main building? I’ll show you some of the activity rooms and we can see what appeals to you. Maybe it’ll help us tease out what desires are hiding in there.”

She smiled. “Okay, that sounds good.”

A few minutes later, Grant led her up a flight of stairs and into a long, quiet hallway. Sconces provided soft lighting, but the maroon walls and dark wood floors gave the impression of entering a secret lair. She had the urge to whisper her question, but the guy was so damn tall he probably wouldn’t hear her up there in the stratosphere. “So no one’s here right now?”

“No, we close a few days once a month to do general maintenance. Everyone will start arriving tomorrow.” He slipped a hand onto her lower back and eased her forward. “Go ahead. Each window gives a view into a different room.”

She took a few steps and turned to look through the first large window that flanked the right side of the wall. A dreary, stone-walled dungeon, complete with manacles and a host of other tools she didn’t recognize came into view. If not for the little security camera tucked into the upper corner of the room, the place could’ve fit into any ancient castle. “Wow, this looks authentic.”

Grant stepped up next to her. “As I’m sure you can imagine, this is one of the more popular rooms since so many of our guests practice BDSM. We have a number of dungeon areas throughout the resort, including a few larger ones for group play.”

She nodded, anxiety twining through her.

“This one makes you nervous.”

She peeked up at him, surprised by his spot-on assessment. “A little. Not sure I’d want to jump right into that.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough.”

They walked past a few other themed rooms—a doctor’s office, a classroom, a barn, a decadent boudoir, a strip club scene complete with a pole. The sheer level of detail of each room boggled her mind. They were not fooling around here. Some big money had been spent.

Every scene affected her on some level as her mind automatically placed her in each fantasy. The naughty nurse. The stripper. Her skin had flushed well past the point of comfort as they traveled down the hallway. They crossed in front of the window to the next room, and her heart picked up speed.

She stared at the mock police station setup. The desk. The jail cell behind it with a narrow bed. What would it be like to have a guy play bad cop? To handcuff her and have her at his mercy? To pass her off to his partner to share her?

The vision of two cops hauling her into the room, arresting her with plans for their own satisfaction, filled her head. Two above-the-law officers handling her however they pleased. Bending her over that desk and shoving her skirt over her hips, taking her from behind while the other used her mouth for his pleasure.

Whoa. Where had that come from? She tried to wet her lips, but her mouth had forgotten how to make spit; all the moisture in her body had rerouted much, much lower. Jesus, what was wrong with her? That shouldn’t turn her on.

Grant’s voice was like dark whiskey as he leaned closer to her. “Tell me why this one appeals to you.”

“How do you know—”

“Darling, you’re breathing faster, your face is flushed, and your nipples are so hard, you’re getting me hot and bothered.”

She ducked her head, wanting to cover her face with her hands, but he put a finger under her chin, forcing her face toward him. “No shame here, Evan. You’re not going to get judgment from me or anyone else who comes here.”

“It’s just . . . I . . . ,” she said, stumbling over her words.

“You feel uncomfortable that this turns you on,” he said, his tone gentle. “This room is usually used for scenes that involve power play.”

“Is that a fancy way of saying ‘pretend rape’?” she asked, her stomach knotting.

He frowned. “No, not at all. What’s speaking to you is not a rape fantasy. Rape means non-consensual, and I doubt you desire a true loss of consent.”

She shuddered. “No way.”

“So, it’s a dominance/submission fantasy. A cop is a classic role of authority and dominance, the prisoner the counterbalance to that. It’s role-playing mixed with D/s—like most of these rooms. Nothing to be ashamed of.” He laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “As long as everyone is aware of the risks and it’s consensual, you can embrace whatever desires you have here. Even the dark ones.”

She nodded, absorbing the power of his words, the freedom of such a concept. Maybe this was the answer to her present situation. Exploring her most forbidden fantasies in a no-strings-attached, safe environment, while still keeping her comfortable situation at home.

She cleared her throat. “So does this mean I should try the BDSM route?”

“I would say it’d be a good place to start,” he said, amusement glinting in his eyes. “The important question is, in your fantasy, which role are you playing? A cop or the prisoner.”

Her eyebrows scrunched. Huh. She hadn’t even considered being in the cop role. That didn’t seem nearly as enticing. She glanced up at him. “The prisoner.”

He smiled. “Well, that answers a lot. I think The Ranch is going to be able to provide exactly what you need.”

“Really?”

“No doubt,” he said, ushering her back toward the door they’d come in originally. “And I already know a few members who could be perfect at providing it for you.”

Anticipation rippled through her. This was either going to be the most exciting or the most idiotic decision she’d ever made.

Unfortunately, based on her track record with men and sex, odds weren’t in her favor.

EIGHT

Jace tilted back his root beer and watched as other members started to drift into the main room. It would probably be a busy weekend considering The Ranch had been shut down for a few days this week.

Andre flipped through the packet of papers he’d picked up for them at the door. “There are five new female subs tonight. Well, Tessa isn’t new. She apparently had a falling out with her boyfriend and wants a new master.”

Jace set his bottle on the table. “Are the other four guests or new members?”

“Two guests, two new members. So only two are going through the mandatory public display of submission,” Andre replied, still going through the pages. “Are you up for that tonight?”

Jace shrugged. “I’m not a big fan of demanding submission before I’ve even talked to the chick.”

Andre chuckled. “Conversation, then fucking. Got it. You’re such an old-fashioned guy, Jace.”

“Bite me.”

Andre cocked his head, his smile challenging. “That could be arranged. But only if you beg.”

“Uh-huh. Why don’t you hold your breath and wait for that to happen?” Jace had never been one for limits and labels, so he had no issue being sexual with Andre within the ménage dynamic. But after living a childhood with a father who dictated every damn thing in Jace’s life, he didn’t do submissive. “Just tell me about our two possibilities.”

Andre turned the page. “Okay, candidate number one has been in a D/s relationship twice before, but is currently single. She has very few limits and is really into pain play. Open to ménage. She’s hoping to find a long-term master but is fine with short-term things as well.”

Jace leaned back in his chair and grimaced. “Ooh, I don’t know.”

“Yeah, if she wants serious pain stuff, neither of us is the right kind of dom for that.”

“Plus, the open-to-relationship ones always have an agenda. Even if they say they don’t. I’m not here to spend the weekend cuddling and getting to know each other.” He didn’t come to The Ranch looking for relationships. He didn’t go anywhere looking for that.

Andre smirked. “You know, not every woman here is out to trap you with her white picket fence. You’re not that great of a catch, anyway. Now me, on the other hand . . .”

Jace flipped him off. He knew Andre was open to finding a steady relationship eventually, but his friend’s bisexuality and penchant for ménage tended to get in the way of any lasting plans. It was only a matter of time before Andre would figure out that the whole “till death do us part” thing wasn’t meant for people like them. Plus, why put your heart in someone else’s hands and give them the power to crush you?

Jace had learned his lesson on that one and didn’t need a refresher course. D/s would never again be anything more than fun and fucking for him. Period. “Just tell me about the other woman, smartass.”

Andre turned another page, reading for himself before saying anything. A smile crept to his lips. “Here we go. This woman is a D/s virgin. Shows tendencies toward the sub role and is looking to explore that. Grant wants her to have a master who has gone through the full training here—score one for you. She has a cop fantasy—score one for me. Not seeking anything permanent because she’s already in a committed relationship.”

“Uh-oh, is she married?”

He shook his head. “Engaged, but it says she’s here with her partner’s consent.”

Jace leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, sure she is.”

“What, you think she’s lying?”

“If she’d been married for a few years and was doing it with consent, I may be able to buy it. You know, getting bored, wanting to branch out. But engaged? That’s when people are shitfaced in love with each other. No dude willingly lets the girl he’s engaged to go fuck around on him on her own. Could you imagine Reid sending Brynn out here by herself to fool around?”

“Reid would burn the place down first. But you never know. I’ve heard some guys get off on that whole girl cheating on them thing. Cuckoldry or whatever it’s called.”

Jace sniffed. Maybe guys who’ve never actually had a woman step out on them could get off on that, but he knew there was nothing remotely sexy about the humiliation of the real thing.

Andre lifted his hand at someone behind Jace and waved him over. Jace turned in his seat to find Grant sauntering their way.

“Evening, fellas.” The owner shook each of their hands. “Good to see y’all out here. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, things have been crazy,” Jace said. “But we figured we’ve earned a break.”

“So what can I do for ya?” Grant asked, turning to Andre.

“This new member, Sasha. Her bio says she’s engaged but is here with the guy’s permission. How do we know that’s true?”

The corner of Grant’s mouth hitched up. “I don’t have them put anything on that sheet that I haven’t verified. It’s unusual, but the fiancé is actually the one who purchased the membership for her as a gift. Apparently, he prefers vanilla, so he’s letting her work a few kinks out of her system before they get married.”

Jace snorted, almost choking on his drink. “Seriously?”

“You bet.”

Jace set his bottle down. “Is the guy an idiot? If this woman discovers that she truly is a sub, she’s not going to want to go back and be vanilla for the rest of eternity.”

Grant shrugged. “I know that. And you two know that. But I figure it’s better for them to find that out before they take the plunge instead of after.”

“Well,” Jace said, “you’re better than anyone I know at determining it. Is she really a sub or just playing around?”

“She’s sub. I’d bet the vineyard on it.”

Andre grinned. “Guess we found our girl for the night.”

“Ah, fellas, not so fast,” Grant said, tapping the papers on the table. “You must’ve not read all the way down. She checked no for ménage.”

“You’ve gotta be freaking kidding me,” Jace said, grabbing the packet to read it for himself.

“You could always take her on yourself,” Grant suggested, a hint of challenge in his eyes. “She’s over there in the back corner chatting with the other available subs.”

Jace grimaced, the idea holding no appeal. Since his divorce, he hadn’t had any interest in taking on a sub solo. One-on-one just felt too serious, too intense. He came here to have fun and ménage ensured that things stayed light. “We’ll just find someone else.”

“Have a nice night, guys. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Grant said, moving away to go talk to another table.

Andre smirked. “I’m guessing that doesn’t rule out much.”

Jace tossed the papers back on the table in frustration. “Looks like we won’t be taking on a newbie tonight.”

“No big deal. I saw that Melissa chick earlier, and she was hinting that she’d be interested in joining us later. It’ll still be a fun night.”

Jace rolled his shoulders, trying to fight the tension gathering there. He wasn’t interested in Melissa. She was a pretty girl, but he knew none of it was God-given—fake tits, fake lips, spray-on tan, and enough makeup to put a porn star to shame. That didn’t do it for him. He preferred women who had that natural, girl-next-door type of beauty. Girls who you’d never guess had a kinky streak if you saw them out in the world. Unfortunately, that was sometimes hard to find at a place like The Ranch.

“Here we go,” Andre said, pointing at the front part of the room.

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