Tangled in Tulle

Mission: Build a new life. Confront the past. Plan the wedding of the man she loves. Tulle and Tulips, Book 1 Lori Mull...

Author: Duncan Nikki

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Mission: Build a new life. Confront the past. Plan the wedding of the man she loves. Tulle and Tulips, Book 1 Lori Mullins yearns to shake off her past and live free of shadows and fear. Yet her only shot at obtaining the capital to launch her business rests in a man she met during a lie. A man whose voice alone turned her from jaded escort to giddy schoolgirl. A man who almost died because of her. Trevor Masters can call off his search for the woman he loves. The woman he dreamt of while comatose. The quest for her heart, however, is only beginning. The trick will be convincing her he doesn’t blame her—and that she deserves to accept herself as the woman who holds his heart. Business negotiations land Lori in a heavenly hell. Heaven that Trevor is close enough to touch. Hell that she’s planning her first designer wedding. His. And something’s not quite right. The kind, compassionate man she fell for all those months ago, the man who’s engaged to another, seems intent on wooing her… Warning: This title contains a balloon-toting rodent, a hero scheming for love, a heroine evading complications, and hot sex.

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B Cincinnati OH 45249 Tangled in Tulle Copyright © 2011 by Nikki Duncan ISBN: 978-1-60928-593-7 Edited by Tera Kleinfelter Cover by Kanaxa All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: December 2011 www.samhainpublishing.com

Tangled in Tulle Nikki Duncan

Dedication

To CIS, for indulging my Big Red habits. To Tera, you scare me a little with the things you know. I love it. To Lori and Misty. You ladies are pure fabulousness, and I love you.

Chapter One

“I can’t do this.” Lori Mullins reached over and pushed the button to lower the top on her best friend’s convertible despite the chilled Miami air. A Christmas carol jingled from somewhere in the distance, though it was over a month away. Inside the car-fume-scented parking garage fear squeezed her lungs faster than walls moving in on a claustrophobe. She needed fresh air, reassurance, courage. The confidence she’d had as an operative for a clandestine arm of the CIA had dehydrated into a pea-sized shell and been squashed. “You can,” Misty didn’t acknowledge the cooler air sweeping away the heater’s warmth as she pointed toward the automated doors across the parking garage. “Just go into the lobby, walk to the elevator and push the ‘up’ button.” “Then when the doors open…” Lori trailed off, lost for a moment in the squeals of tires, the slam of doors and beep of an alarm, the stink of exhaust and rubber. She may not have been the highest level Whitestone operative, her final mission as an escort may never make sense, but she’d had a one-hundredpercent success rate on her jobs. Self-doubt had never been in her cache of attributes. Until now. Until the last one, which had cost her the man she’d loved, ended her career and nearly claimed her life. “You see the man who can grant your dreams,” Misty put in when Lori said nothing more.

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“If only it were so simple.” Past success meant nothing. For that matter, few things from the past mattered beyond their power to impact her future. “You shouldn’t be afraid of this.” But she was. Maybe if she’d talked about why asking Trevor Masters for help was so tough she could’ve convinced Misty to pitch the business plan. The fact remained that while Misty was interested in working with her as the head floral designer, Tulle and Tulips Designer Weddings was Lori’s chance for a new beginning. A new life and talking about Trevor meant thinking about the part of her past she was trying to escape. “You’ve covered every angle of the business plan. Your projections are smart and conservative.” “But…” Misty speared her with a hard glare, cutting off her arguments. “If Trevor Masters is half the businessman you claim, he’ll see your brilliance and will have no choice but to back you.” “Except wedding planning has absolutely no relation to technology.” And he has every reason to want to turn me away. “I shouldn’t have contacted him.” Not that she’d gotten past his new assistant. “Successful, smart business ventures are one and the same no matter what name you put on them.” Misty reached over Lori and opened the door. “Get out. Go. I’ll be here when you’re ready.” Putting into words what could happen, why facing Trevor was so painful, hurt more than thinking about it—and that was plenty debilitating—so Lori nodded once and swung her legs from the car. The click of her heels on the concrete vibrated up her thighs. The vibration reminded her of the first time she’d taken this same path to see Trevor Masters.

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The assignment to accompany the CEO to a business dinner had seemed simple, yet her life had been forever changed. Misty reached for the button to raise the car top. Holding Misty’s certainty close, Lori grabbed her briefcase and torture forged determination. “You can be a real pain in the ass.” “Eh. What good’s a friend if she can’t give you a kick in the keister on occasion?” “No good at all.” The Misty inspired, cheek-stretching smile erased Lori’s concerns and fears. Misty was the single person who’d stayed permanent in her life, and had known she worked for the government. She’d been the one to help her heal and discover a sense of freedom from the past. Even if the freedom wouldn’t last, Lori laughed. Feeling stronger, she crossed to the doors and approached the elevators. Three times she stopped, turned and contemplated running away. A bell chimed. The doors opened to reveal the posh marble elevator she’d once felt comfortable in. Comfortable. She smirked and stiffened her spine. As the doors closed, cutting off her retreat, Lori’s mind slipped back to the last time she’d pushed that button to take this ride. The knee-length, form-hugging cocktail dress finished off with delicate jewelry and rhinestone covered stilettos whispered seductive power and made her feel strong. Or maybe that came from the anticipation of seeing Trevor again. He captivated her. Had from their first meeting. Still did. Serious-minded with a reputation for caring first and foremost about business, he’d allowed her glimpses of his melted-fudge heart. He’d laughed

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with her and shared casual dinners with her. He’d pulled her in until she cared more about the man than the job. He’d become emotionally dangerous. That last night together, with the city lights caressing the waters lapping at the beach, while they sat on the couch in the apartment off his office sharing pizza and tingling from sex, she’d become the dangerous one. The weapon. She’d almost gotten him killed because she’d failed to discover Madame V’s goals or how far she’d push things to win. Only after she’d returned to the Elegant Entertainment mansion had she overheard Madame V, her boss of the moment, boasting about how Lori had helped ensure that Trevor would sign a high-profile contract before the night— and his life—were over. She’d only barely managed to get back to Trevor’s office in time to stop his suicidal rush into traffic. The elevator chimed with the announcement of Lori’s arrival. Her heart slowed to a crawl. I should have found another backer. The doors opened. In slate-gray suit pants, a crisply pressed, pale blue shirt which matched his eyes perfectly and a tie a shade darker stood the man she’d longed to see. Dreaded to see. Trevor. She took a step. Stopped. Her heart trembled within its shrinking cage. Hopes, doubts, fears coalesced and lodged into a word barricade in her throat. His long, narrow face, frozen in an I’m-on-a-mission-and-won’t-be-swayed stare, captivated her as quickly as it had the first time. Like the first time, she knew the secret to his success had to lie in part in his skill at hiding his thoughts, because knowing he was on a mission didn’t help without knowing what mission.


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Not knowing made erecting defenses impossible and she needed all of them she could muster. “Lori.” Her name, soft and even, with no inflection or hint of emotion, served as a backhand to the cheekbone. Sharp. Blinding. She shouldn’t have come to him. She should have listened to the fifteen banks unwilling to take a chance on her in the current economic climate. “Trevor.” The elevator doors began closing. Moving quickly, she stepped out, determined to be equally unreadable. He didn’t move. As the doors closed behind her, she was again cut off from escape with maybe a foot between them if she measured generously. Her belly tightened. “I almost didn’t believe it was you when I saw your name on my schedule.” Had he wanted her to be someone else, or had he been happy to see her name? Angry? Resentful? She wished she could read him, but as skilled as she was at reading people he’d always been the exception. “I won’t take much of your time.” “So this visit isn’t personal?” “No.” Did he want it to be? Could he really want anything personal with her again? Not that it mattered. She wouldn’t travel any road with a personal relationship until her life was on a path less littered with sinkhole memories. “Right.” He stepped back and gestured toward his office. “Come in and tell me what this is about.” She followed him across the plush waiting area decorated with subtle touches of fall and past his watchful admin. Each step closer to Trevor’s office and the connected apartment where they’d spent chunks of their alone time— paid and non-paid—had Lori’s muscles contracting.

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She shoved the thoughts back and without waiting for him to close the door, headed to his desk to claim one of the guest chairs. Rather than sitting in his chair, he took the second guest chair. Her chest burned. She’d been certain he’d showcase his power on his turf, but sitting at her side equalized them. Or he was calculating ways to keep her on edge. “I have a proposition.” She plunged forward to keep things away from personal topics. His brow quirked with humor. “I’m listening.” Business needed to be the theme. Only business. No innuendo. She’d have to choose her words with more caution. Ignoring the distraction of his nearness, or trying to because completely tuning out his magnetism wasn’t happening, she reached into her bag for the bound portfolio she’d put together and passed it to him. “As you may know, I’m looking to start a new venture.” He said nothing. He didn’t glance at the proposal. “I’ve always loved design and weddings, so I’ve decided to put the two together.” She paused, but again he said nothing. He only regarded her with the same unwavering gaze. “Specifically, I am looking to start a full service wedding planning business. I have experts in every area of weddings lined up to come work with me. Clients can hire us for individual aspects or for the entire event. If they cannot find what they want, we’ll design it. To ensure their day is everything they want we’ll work within the client’s budget on each aspect.” Again she paused. Again he didn’t speak. His silence and lack of questions unnerved her, put her on the defensive when she played better offense.


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“A woman shouldn’t have to run all over town or second guess herself when she’s taking such a monumental step in her life. She should be able to focus on the reason she’s visiting us.” His mouth curved in a small, victorious smile that shifted his face into warmth. The first time she’d seen that smile they’d been dining on veal and wine with classical music in the background. Whatever she’d just said pleased him. Why? How? Maybe he’s just humored by your ineptness. “You feel qualified to plan weddings, Lori?” She squished the insecurity and defenses springing to her tongue. Arguments that working as an operative for the government, always having a different assignment, had prepared her for anything and everything loitered, but she suppressed them. He’d met her as an escort and didn’t know, couldn’t know the rest of her story, so maybe his question was valid. “Planning the perfect wedding takes organization and the ability to recognize the importance of a lifelong commitment. Yes, I’m qualified.” “And you’re here for…a loan?” “Yes.” He nodded and receded into silence. After studying her for several moments, staring until her skin itched with the need to squirm, he lifted the proposal and skimmed the pages. He gave equal attention to the pages with sample designs, her ideal building layout complete with square footage requirements, the projected budget outlays, her available cash flow and how much she would need. Occasionally he made a noise low in his throat, but she couldn’t tell if he was impressed or shocked or thought her projections to be somehow out of line. The need to squirm grew.

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She’d done this dance with every banker she’d met. Each time they’d kept a copy of the proposal, taking weeks to study, analyze and consider before handing back her application stamped with a large REJECTED. The second hand of her watch ticked in the silence. Tick. Tick. Tick. When Trevor closed the proposal and sat it on his lap, finally, a glance at the clock showed Lori thirty minutes had passed in silence. His eyes sought hers and held her arrested. Tick. Tick. Tick. He’s. Tick. Gonna. Tick. Say. Tick. No. “I will not give you a loan.” On autopilot, having heard what would come next and aware it would hurt more coming from Trevor, she stood with a quick nod. “Thank you for your time.” He grabbed her hand when she’d have moved past him. His thumb brushed over her pulse. The grip was gentle and full of earnest command. “Sit back down, Lori.” She looked down, a little over her shoulder, and met his gaze. “I don’t need explanations, Trevor. The no is enough.” He regarded her, unblinking, until she felt certain her deepest secrets were exposed.


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“Sit down.” His command was unavoidable. He would not be ignored. When he released her hand she fought back her ingrained urge to argue and instead obeyed. “I will not give you a loan, but will offer an alternative proposition.” His humored smile was back. She didn’t like the feeling it gave her any more than she liked feeling vulnerable. Whatever he was planning, she was sure she wouldn’t like it. “What?” “A partnership. I want twenty-five percent ownership.” “What? Why?” What could he want with a wedding planning business? “Your proposal is very well thought out.” “Thank you.” “But there’s more to getting a business off the ground than a plan on paper. And we both know things that matter rarely work according to plan.” That last bit hinted at something deeper. Something she wasn’t thinking about. “Listen, Trevor, I appreciate what you’re offering, but I can’t agree to your terms.” Ignoring his reference to the future they’d half-planned, she focused on the present. He may know business, but she had no desire to have him sticking his nose into hers. Coming to him for money was one thing. A loan she could pay back and never have to see him or face their past. His way would keep him in her life. “I need to do this according to my vision.” “I have no intention of stepping into the design side of your business, but with me as a partial owner, you would not be limited to a set figure. I will bankroll your start-up costs, including construction, decorating, supplies and marketing to ensure a strong launch.” You see the man who can grant your dreams. Misty’s conviction-filled words rushed Lori and shoved their hopeful way into her hammering heart.

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“What’s the catch?” There had to be a big one. “I ask to be involved in the choice of location and the selection of the construction crew. I know of an empty space with more than adequate room for what you’ve lined out. Also, I have some contacts in construction who may fit your needs. With them, you can rest assured they’ve been fully vetted and are properly insured.” “The final decision will be mine on where to open and who to use.” “Okay.” She knew better than to believe he was giving in. He negotiated contracts every day. Her specialties were intel gathering and hand-to-hand defense. He was certain he would make her see things his way. “What else?” “The first month the business turns a profit, twenty-five percent of the income will be mine.” Was he kidding? She could have an unlimited budget to set things up her way and she didn’t have to pay back a loan or deal with interest? As for the twenty-five percent, it could take a year or more before he saw any return on his investment. Unless she was missing something, he wasn’t getting the best deal. “Ten percent,” she countered. “It is, after all, my sweat and blood going into it.” “Twenty.” “Fifteen.” She was testing him sure, but she also wanted the best deal she could get. “Eighteen is the best I’ll give you.” “Fifteen,” she repeated. “Or I say no. And I want a detailed contract. I’ll have my own attorney read it over before I sign.” “Deal.”


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Hesitant, almost too afraid to believe the offer, Lori extended her hand. “Thank you.” He took her hand into his slim-fingered one and squeezed gently. Sparks zinged through her, inciting every banked fire of desire he’d ever aroused. “There’s just one other catch.” She tugged on her hand, but he held firm. Damn if his face hadn’t resumed the indiscernible mask. She’d known there was a trap somewhere. “What?” “I want to be your first client. I want you to plan my wedding.” Her eyes widened with her plummeting heart.

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Chapter Two

Fighting back a satisfied grin in the face of Lori’s shock wasn’t easy, but Trevor managed. Barely. Her tanned cheeks flushed and her eyes trembled just a bit at the corners. She didn’t know how to respond. When he’d first seen her name on his schedule he hadn’t known what to think. Feeling though... Feeling had been easy. Months of wondering where she’d been and worrying what had happened to her, of missing her and hoping she was safe had snapped to an end. Distracted moments of loving her when he couldn’t have her had slammed into him with the pleasurable anticipation of seeing her again. Lori Mullins had spellbound him within moments of their first meeting. She’d aroused the playful side he’d lost track of between business deals. When the conspiracy that almost cost him his life imploded harder than a Trojan infested CMOS she vanished. Gone until his FBI buddy’s team found her. Breck had assured Trevor she was okay, but she’d stayed silently hidden…beyond his grasp. Not the kind to be caught off guard more than once, he’d done some checking to see why Lori was coming to him. It had taken more cajoling than effort to learn about her new venture and why the banks had turned her down. The economy had been their excuse. He saw the unspoken truth. Her unwillingness, or inability, to divulge her professional background made her an unsafe bet. He was betting on her.

Nikki Duncan

“You want me to plan your wedding?” “Yes.” Betting on her in a way he’d known he would agree to before hearing her pitch. Of course, his original plan had been to attach the condition of dating him to the deal. He’d reconsidered that angle. She was trying to put her life as a call-girl in the past and such a condition would stink of blackmail, or worse, as payment for companionship. This was his chance to start fresh without the stigma of prostitution lingering in either of their minds. It was his chance to prove he loved her for her. “When is the big day?” “The date hasn’t been set, but if things fall into place for us, I hope before the year is out.” “It’s already fall. You’d have to get the planning started immediately.” She tried to keep her tone modulated, but he heard the miniscule shaking. He just wasn’t sure if it was from an uncertainty of her ability to plan a wedding on such short notice, or a little fear at how quickly things were turning for her, or if it was from the thought of him getting married in light of how much they’d felt for each other. The jealousy idea pleased him most, especially if it helped in his planned negotiations. “I know some of what I want. It shouldn’t be too big an affair, but not too small either. Maybe fifty people or so. Possibly at my parents’ estate, so outside with the water in the background.” “Sounds lovely if you don’t freeze your guests.” “We can see the water from inside the great room too. Nothing will be as lovely as the bride in what I’ve no doubt will be a classy gown with embellished simplicity.”

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“I suppose you know what flowers you would like as well?” She responded with a snarky disdain he’d seen hints of before, but each time he’d expected it to be revealed she’d pulled back. He didn’t want her pulling back, so he chose a response intended to prick her defenses. “Eh, whatever she wants, but I do have a preference to pale purple roses.” “Sterling roses.” “Yes.” Lori’s favorite. “Oh, and the traditional cakes. Chocolate groom’s cake with chocolate covered strawberries and the tiered white cake. Melt-in-yourmouth light and fluffy for them both.” “Are you really interested in those kinds of details?” Her monotone question wasn’t the reaction he’d hoped for. “It’s my wedding too, but my mind can easily be swayed by the bride I’ve chosen. And I guess with only fifty people we could do with only one cake.” He smiled slowly and captured her milk chocolate gaze with his. “There’s nothing about her I don’t want to know. Nothing I don’t love.” “She’s a lucky woman.” He didn’t blink or look away. “I’m a lucky man to know her.” “Do you want to talk details now, or at another meeting?” His vote was now so he could spend more time with her, but going for later gave him more time to plan. This was one merger he couldn’t afford to miss a step on. “It’s going to have to be later.” “Fine.” Lori stood and smoothed the seam of her pleated slacks. “I have someone waiting for me, and you and I need to finalize the business deal first or I have no reason to plan anyone’s wedding.” “Of course.” Except this one. He followed her to the door, almost placing his palm at the small of her back, just a small touch, but he resisted the suggestive intimacy. “I’ll contact you as soon as the contract is drawn up.”


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“I look forward to hearing from you.” Without a trace of personal meaning in her words, she shook his hand tersely, then strode to the elevator. He couldn’t see her face, but the rise of her ears and the shift of her scalp told him she grinned. It wouldn’t be the last time he put happiness on her face, and she wouldn’t always hide it from him. “Lori.” She stopped, but didn’t turn. “Yes?” “Would you begin sketching a dress? Anything you would love will be more than suitable.” If she found his request for sketches odd, she kept it to herself and only nodded once. “Of course.” Smiling, as much from the sad quiver in her voice—he’d bet on jealousy—as from seeing her again, Trevor turned to his new assistant. “Gina, would you get Bill from legal and Randy from maintenance up here? Warn Bill we’re possibly in for a long afternoon and let Randy know her maintenance team is in for some overtime.” He had the perfect space for Lori’s shop and it was conveniently located. For him. “Yes, sir.” “And once they’re here, take the rest of the day off. Maybe go to a salon for a massage or facial or something. Use the company card. You’ve put in your share of long afternoons lately.” They both had since he’d taken the company back from Breck, because no matter how fancy his degrees or how great his intentions were, his best friend was better suited for leading his FBI team than for running a large corporation. And since returning with a new drive and hiring Gina, Trevor had been intent on erasing the damage Edwin had caused the company—publicly and

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internally. Thankfully, things were smoothing out, new securities and policies were being implemented. He was still scouting for the right person to head up security, but now was as good a time as any to shift some of his focus to Lori. She wouldn’t see him coming.


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Chapter Three

“Ms. Mullins.” Damien Spencer, her attorney for the last fifteen years, smiled as he held her hand in his firm and slightly over-friendly grasp. Because he’d been privy to some of her secrets he thought he knew her and mistakenly believed they’d make a sensible merger. “I’m not sure where you found Mr. Masters, or how you got this deal put together so quickly, but you couldn’t have asked for better terms.” Except the part where I now have to deal with him on a permanent basis. “He’s been more generous than I’d hoped.” “Well, congratulations. Let me know if I can do anything else for you.” “I will. Thank you for being available today.” Extricating her hand as casually as possible, she nodded and pushed the down button on the elevator. Damien’s work here was done, but Trevor had asked her to stay—probably to talk about his wedding. Her belly bottomed out at the idea of Trevor marrying another woman. Images of standing mid-ceremony, listing the reasons he shouldn’t get married swam in her head in a dizzying swirl. “Anytime.” His voice dropped to an intimate level. “What?” She shook her head and looked at Damien. “Anytime.” Again she thought he’d like to see their relationship travel a less professional path. Even with Trevor off the market she wasn’t interested. Damien was a nice man, but he did nothing for her. Even if he did, a merger he thought would look

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good on paper for the sake of his political goals wasn’t for her. Hell, the reporters would rip into her past and Damien’s dreams would shatter. Some of her skeletons could never be cremated. She waved as he stepped into the waiting elevator and headed back to Trevor’s office. He sat at the small conference table where he’d been throughout their afternoon-long meeting. The table where he’d once spread her out like his buffet. And then they’d switched places. “Are you satisfied?” “Excuse me?” He’d asked the same back then, in the same tone. Could he know where her mind had traveled? “Are you satisfied?” he repeated with a quizzical tilt to an eyebrow. “With the contract?” “Of course.” She moved back to the chair she’d vacated and picked up her copy of the contract left by Gina. The papers bound at the top with a heavy blue cover, with initials, signatures and notary seals on the pertinent pages rested between her fingers with a heavy freedom. It was real. Her dream was real. “Do I want to know how you knew who represented me? I might have liked to call my attorney myself.” “It’s nothing as underhanded as you think. You and Bill spoke about him. I took a chance and called to see if he still represented you.” “Which could have put me in an awkward spot if he didn’t.” “But he does so there’s no problem.” “You’re arrogant and take too much for granted.” “And you were eager to get this contract finalized.” “Apparently so were you, but that doesn’t mean I appreciate the liberties you take. It makes me wonder if I’ve made a mistake taking you on as a partner.” If perhaps he wasn’t primarily driven by his wedding plans, because the sooner


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she was set up for clients the faster she could work on his special day. And meet his fiancée—an inevitable event she dreaded. “You won’t regret me, Lori.” “Mr. Masters.” Gina stepped just inside the office and folded her hands in front of her, not quite demure so much as proper. Lori much preferred her to Trevor’s last, and very pompous, assistant Edwin. “Randy is ready for you.” Taking the announcement of Trevor’s next appointment as a dismissal, Lori began gathering her things. She almost missed the pleased grin flirting with the corners of his mouth, and damn if it didn’t have her pulse pumping harder for a beat and her heart wishing she was the cause. “Lori, leave that.” He moved around the table and pulled her from her chair. “I’d like to show you…something.” Something slid off his tongue like a secret she shouldn’t trust. Surprises had never been friendly to her but operative work had taught her how many insights could be gained by following without argument. “What are you up to?” “Business.” “We agreed—” “That I could pass on contacts to you. I’m only going to introduce you to someone.” “Then why say you had something to show me?” He was leaving out details. “Poor word choice.” A harsh laugh almost burst free. Trevor always had the right words for any situation. It was a skill that had irritated her even while attracting her. It was the attractive part which intrigued her, and had her being led to the elevator with his hand flattened at the small of her back. Her heart leapt. Maybe from his touch or from the idea he still felt something for her. The latter, whispered her hopeful heart. Why else would he walk with her

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as he always had, touching her in some small way or another? And just like every time before his warmth seeped into her, awakened her arousal, made her feel cherished. He’s engaged. The argument held more weight in her mind than with her body’s reactions, and damn but her detail-specific brain reminded her Trevor didn’t habitually walk the same way with all women. In an attempt to avoid complications he put tremendous effort in avoiding casual touches a woman could misconstrue. He held himself apart from people he didn’t consider close. He still thought of her fondly. Her cheeks and neck warmed and before long she would be flushed red with excitement. He’s off limits. She shouldn’t be aroused by him or allow herself to believe for a moment he was being anything less than a gentleman. He was in a relationship. He’d moved on and released the dreams they had once talked about. Sure, she hadn’t expected a rekindling of their relationship, and it was true she’d decided to focus on business until her life was back on track, but it felt as if he was essentially rubbing his happiness in her face. It was sort of…cruel. “Lori?” He looked down at her with tender concern. “Are you okay?” “Yep.” How she held back the confused “huh?” that popped into her brain would remain a mystery, but she was glad for it. Maybe some of her spy training or time with Madame V, the dominant and domineering head of Elegant Entertainment, had given her more skills at concealing thoughts than she had realized. If she’d ever needed to hide questions or reactions from anyone Madame V, always ready with a violent hand, had been that person. In the end, Lori’s restraint hadn’t mattered. “Who are you taking me to meet?”


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“You’ll see.” “I don’t like surprises.” “Pity.” In the elevator, he pushed the button for the lobby floor and fell into a silence which left her too long to wonder what he was up to. With each kindvoiced announcement signaling a passing floor her hand fisted against the urge to chew off a nail. It was a habit she’d picked up in captivity and after recovery she’d resorted to acrylics to save her fingers. When the doors opened again, they were met by a petite woman built much like herself clad in snug jeans, a curveloving T-shirt and work boots. Her blonde ponytail enhanced her face to perfection. “Trevor.” The woman smiled warmly at him and then offered her hand to Lori with a gleeful twinkle in her blue eyes. “You must be Lori. I’m Randy, and I can’t wait to see what you come up with for the big day.” The fiancée. Lori uncurled her fingers and took Randy’s hand in a brief shake. “He’s told me so much about you.” Excitement bubbled off the woman as her gaze danced between Lori and Trevor. He cleared his throat, effectively severing whatever Randy may have said next. Not that it mattered. Lori didn’t believe for a tenth of a second Trevor would tell his betrothed about the call-girl he’d hired for more than companionship. And if he’d known she was undercover at the time… Well, lies layered upon lies didn’t uncomplicate matters. “Randy manages building maintenance. You have it ready?” Trevor asked Randy. “The crew just finished.” She turned away from the main lobby and headed toward a hallway behind the elevators.

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Trevor once again placed his hand at Lori’s back. Instead of accustomed warmth, the touch shot through her, as if each fingertip was an acid-dipped needle. She stepped aside and broke the contact. “Lori?” “You’ve changed,” she whispered so Randy wouldn’t hear. Or maybe he wasn’t the stand up man she’d always thought him to be. “What?” He genuinely looked confused, as if he was doing nothing wrong in touching her with Randy so close. Even if he wasn’t unavailable his philandering attitude made him undesirable.

A few steps ahead, Randy pushed open double, frosted glass doors and stepped inside. Trevor seized the moment and halted Lori with a hand on her elbow. “I don’t know what you’re suddenly upset about, Lori, but I haven’t changed.” “Clearly you have.” She pulled her arm free and pointed toward the doors. “I assume we’re following Randy.” Her voice hardened on Randy’s name. He wasn’t sure if he imagined it as partial pain, but she wasn’t in the mood to talk, and he wouldn’t get into it with curious ears around. Whatever spun in Lori’s gorgeous mind would go unhalted until he found a better time. “Trevor. Lori.” Randy poked her head back into the hall. “You coming?” “Yes,” Lori answered as she stepped around him. “Though I’m still unclear what’s going on.” That makes two of us.


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He followed her into the recently vacated office space he’d had Randy’s crew clean out and waited for a reaction. Lori had slipped into the shroud of unreadable blankness she easily and frequently donned. It had taken six dates— personal, not business related—before she’d begun showing hints of the warmth and generosity of her real self. And a touch of vulnerability he’d failed to fully understand before running out of time. “What’s this about, Trevor?” “He’s not always good at explaining himself,” Randy said with a roll of her eyes as she moved closer to Lori. “Hell, he sucks at it.” “Thank you, Randy.” Trevor glared at her—a betrayal of frustration he was expert at hiding. “I’ve got it from here.” “As you wish.” The woman patted Lori’s arm and headed toward the door. “See you around, Lori.” “Yeah.” There it was again. The note of what he suspected to be pain, yet there were no traces of it in her eyes or on her face. Was he imagining it? Once Randy was gone, Lori linked her hands before her. “I’m waiting for an explanation.” “I see how you are now.” “Yeah?” “All business.” “Yes, so get to it.” “Fine.” Since his weak attempt to lighten the mood failed, he opened his arms to indicate the space. “This is about a thousand square feet larger than what you outlined in your proposal. It has a loading dock and large warehouse space complete with a walk-in cooler perfect for keeping flowers fresh. As a building tenant you would have access to the main mailroom for mail and package

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receiving as well as supply orders. Building maintenance, Randy’s team, handles cleaning and repairs. It is available immediately, and I think you’d find the lease terms agreeable.” She didn’t move. Her face didn’t change as she glanced around the large, open space. Her body language didn’t shift. “You’re trying to control every aspect of this aren’t you?” “No. I only want to see you succeed and this space has everything you could want.” Including free rent if it meant she was just downstairs from him. “Really?” “Yes. We’re surrounded by some great shopping, we have a private parking garage, so the walk from other downtown garages isn’t an issue, and our security keeps people and their belongings safe. You would have free rein of the build out, with restrictions only applying to structural concerns.” “Signage?” “On the building menus in the lobby and garage entrances, as well as on the outside of the building and on your space windows. It must be approved though.” “Rent?” “Due the middle of the month beginning the first month you’re open.” “Cost?” “Negotiable.” “Utilities?” “Not included. The space is wired with the ability to patch calls through the main lobby if you choose to use it.” As guarded as she’d been at times, she’d never seemed distrusting. Until now. It may be a result of whatever had gotten to her in the hall, or it could be something entirely different. Regardless, he suspected himself to somehow be the cause.


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“This is going to overextend my budget.” “If you want to do it right…” “It’s going to cost.” “Two large weddings a month would cover it.” Distrust wasn’t her issue. No. She was suddenly ruled by fear even though the space would be well within her projected budget. “You’re the landlord?” “It’s my building.” “Is that why the price is negotiable?” He lifted a shoulder going for nonchalance. He’d give her the space for nothing if he thought she’d take it. “I want to read the lease.” “I have one in my office.” Did her lack of argument indicate an agreement or would bad luck or a desire for distance from him have her choosing a space elsewhere? “You were planning this from the start.” “It pays to think several steps ahead in business. Besides, you’re not likely to find a better deal.” “You say you’re thinking ahead. Can you still see what’s right in front of you?” “I do.” A gorgeous woman who needs wooing. He closed the distance between them and cupped her cheek. The claim that he could be part of this better deal clamored at his tongue’s tip. “Can you?” Seconds hummed into minutes. She stared into his eyes. He stared into hers. His fingertips vibrated. Awareness vibrated.

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“What do you say, Lori?” Yes, he saw what was in front of him. The opportunity to win back the woman he’d loved from their first meeting. It may take patience and some creative business, but he would win Lori back. “Is my proposal favorable?” “I’ll look at the lease.”


31

Chapter Four

“I can’t believe how easy Masters has made this for you.” Elegance in stilettos, Misty dropped into one of the two butter-smooth leather chairs that had just been placed behind the half-moon shaped reception desks in the lobby. Her skirt slid up her thighs, the blouse draped even as she slouched and her hair looked flawless despite the labor she’d been putting into her warehouse space where she’d create her floral arrangements. “All the more reason I think there’s a catch he hasn’t yet revealed.” Exhausted from the exhilaration of progress made in a few fast weeks, Lori dropped her sketch pad and clipboard to the desk and claimed a cream-colored chair of her own. Before opening, an ivory satin skirt embroidered with the business logo would be mounted to the front of each desk. “I still worry he’s going to show up to micro-manage everything given how much control he took of things in the beginning.” “And yet he hasn’t shown himself since handing you the keys.” Misty grinned a grin that bordered on lecherous as two hunky delivery guys carried in a couch. “Which is sort of sad because I still want to get a look at him.” “You’d have a better time with one of these guys.” Trevor played too many games even in absence. Mind games. He sent emails and flyers about sales or marketing samples from competitors. Dropped off quick notes of congrats on her progress, which made it obvious he was checking in. Left voice mails with wedding-related thoughts. Always ended the notes and voice mails the same way. Yours.

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The information was helpful though it all had her wondering if he was shopping the competition. The notes made her wonder if he was spying on her. The voice mails… The voice mails held the most power and had her listening to his voice over and over, envisioning herself as his bride, as a woman worthy of him. Imagining a deeper meaning to his parting word. Yours. Damn. She hated insecurity. Trevor wouldn’t have signed his name on the line by hers if he didn’t believe in her. He wouldn’t have risked the money. Without him, she wouldn’t be waiting for sample dresses or new entry doors etched with her logo to be delivered. She certainly wouldn’t be watching her furniture get set up. “It’s shaping up to be everything you imagined, Lori.” “More. It’s so much more.” She still struggled to believe her dream was coming true, and almost said as much, but Misty would only tell her she was crazy. The construction crew, currently on lunch break, had been working monster hours without complaints, screw-ups or mishaps to quickly transform what had been barren space. Individual doors led into private, glass-fronted suites for consultants to meet with clients for planning. Each suite’s door would have an etching suitable to the wedding element—dresses, flowers, invitations, tuxedos, cakes, catering, music, venue, registry, jewelry, hair and makeup. The back wall curved gently, with private dressing rooms and attached waiting rooms surrounding Lori’s office. A small break room opened onto the wedding dress sample room and flower cooler section—separated by a free standing, glass wall—complete with rows of tables for arrangement work. Each dressing room had a back entrance leading into the warehouse and alterations area for the sales associates. Lori was eager to get the dresses in and work with brides to find their perfect choice, or make it for them. Misty had


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claimed flowers, and other specialists were either already on board or were being trained to handle the other planning areas. Whether clients came in for one aspect or several, the specialists would work together, updating one central database for each wedding so everyone knew at a glance what plans had been made to ensure everything stayed on track and fit together beautifully. The groundwork was exhausting, but surprisingly enough she already had brides calling to book appointments. Being busy kept her mind from straying to her feelings for Trevor too often. “You have another delivery, Lori.” She looked up to see Mitchell, from building security, carry in a giant bouquet of balloons. Neon pink, sunshiny yellow, teasing teal and passionate purple, the helium filled orbs danced in delight with their strings held in the outstretched fingers of a giant, stuffed white rat, standing on its back legs and dressed in knight’s armor. A snort of laughter nearly erupted from Lori. Misty didn’t manage to hold hers back. Lori’s exhaustion lifted away as her spirit was buoyed by the cheerful gift. “Who sent that?” Mitchell shook his head and placed the ridiculous rat on the floor by her chair before leaving. Few of Trevor’s security experts—all former military—had a sense of humor. A note was pinned to the rat’s collar. From one rat in the race to another I can’t wait to see how you’ve transformed the place. Be back soon. Yours. “How is a woman not supposed to fall for a guy who does these things?” “She doesn’t fight it if she’s smart,” Misty said.

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“He’s engaged to someone else.” Misty snorted again. “He isn’t going to marry Randy.” “And yet she came by the other day to see sketches of the wedding.” That visit had come when Lori had just settled down to work on some dress sketches she intended to frame and hang throughout the store. Taking the chance to get the bride’s insights and opinions had been an exercise in frustration. Randy deflected every question with something like “I think Trevor’s got the right idea” or “I’m just not a flowery kind of girl, so I’d trust you with that.” When Lori had shown her the sketches of the dresses for the bride and wedding party she’d been working on Randy claimed to love them all and once again deflected with “which is your favorite?” Predictably, whichever one Lori suggested was the one Randy fell in love with. “Did she tell you straight out it was her wedding?” “She didn’t say it wasn’t.” She’d liked Randy, but spending time with her had Lori wondering why Trevor had chosen her. They seemed to have little in common and Randy would never see the humor in being sent a giant rat. Fingering the rhinestone bejeweled collar winking at her, Lori smiled. It was entirely like Trevor to deliver a note in some unexpected way. Or it had been when she’d been at Madame V’s. More than once she’d found notes hidden in her clothes or car after leaving him. Once he’d programmed a message to appear on her phone’s main screen and another time he’d found her laptop in her car and set a message to pop up like an error message. Only it had said how much he’d enjoyed their time together. It too had been signed “Yours”. She’d never figured out how he pulled them off. He claimed outrageousness kept people guessing and that wasn’t always a bad thing. “Are you going to go to him?”


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Misty’s laughing question pulled Lori back to the present to find her friend swiveling her chair left and right with a sex-me-up smirk cocking her cherryglossed lips for the benefit of the delivery men. One of them would surely take her up on the offer before they left. They’d also believe she was as shallow as she played. “Of course you will,” Misty went on. “No one else could thrill you and hurt you all at once and without appearing.” Lori pulled her hand away from the gift. “I am neither thrilled not hurt by Trevor.” “Says the woman wiping the grin off her face and trying to mask the upset in her eyes because she stupidly believes the man she loves is marrying someone else.” “I do not love him.” Can’t. “If I’m upset, it’s thanks to my business partner’s disregard for his fiancée.” “Doubtful.” Lori slitted her eyes at Misty. It was a look she had mastered in her former life, a look that always got her the truth. “What is that supposed to mean?” “Simply put, it means I’m not sure I believe you. In fact, I know I don’t. Which delivery guy do you think I should ask out?” she asked in a rapid and hushed sidebar as the two guys headed out again. Lori opened her mouth with defenses dancing on her tongue. Misty raised a single finger, effectively silencing her. “Never mind on all counts. I know you’ve had a rough, hell, a downright shitty life until recently. I’ve known you longer than anyone. Long enough to have an idea of what happened in the job you had, the job that almost killed you. I accept you have secrets you’ll never share.”

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“But?” She didn’t want to think about what Misty had gleaned, so she zeroed in on the moment and what Misty would say next. Misty never let an argument go when she thought she was right. There’d be no stopping her now that she’d started. “But I’m not as dense as you try to pretend.” Misty rubbed the rat’s raised paws before twining one of the many ribbons around the same finger she’d shushed Lori with. “Trevor is more than your business partner.” “No.” “He’s the man you were falling in love with a few months ago.” “You’re wrong.” They hadn’t talked about what had happened, about Lori being held captive and tortured on a mission, but Misty’s word choice suggested she knew more than Lori had divulged. “He’s the man who knows you well enough to know a traditional bouquet of flowers wouldn’t impact you.” “You spin pretty tales.” “He’s the man helping to make your dreams come true.” “It’s business.” She wouldn’t buy her own arguments if she stitched them in hidden seams of satin and tulle. “Not entirely on his part.” Misty stood and set a balloon to dancing with a thump. The others instantly joined in. “But you keep lying to yourself if it helps.” “He’s asked me to plan his wedding. If he has any feelings for me or his fiancée he won’t send me anything else.” “A point I’m sure you’ll make clear. Just know which side of it you’re hoping is true before you blast him.” Misty sauntered out with her parting shot hanging in the air. Lori’s heart sped as her blood hammered faster and faster and faster. Misty was right. It was time to set Trevor Masters straight.


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“He asked not to be disturbed.” Trevor glanced up from his computer, eavesdropped on Gina in the outer office. He’d intended to shower off the week of travel, but had been sidetracked by a panicky phone call and the need to send an emergency email. Closed in the privacy of his office he only bothered wrapping a towel around his waist. Now sidetracked again, he waited to see who Gina was speaking to and how she’d handle it. He only waited a couple beats. “Then he shouldn’t have insisted on a partnership with me.” He grinned, easily picturing the scene in his office waiting area. Judging by the shift of their voices, Gina had positioned herself between Lori and his door. And if Lori’s tone was a clear indicator, she was rediscovering her fire. She certainly didn’t sound like the uncertain, nearly defeated shell of herself she’d been the last times he’d seen her. “I’m sorry,” Gina said. “You will have to come back later.” “No.” After hitting “send” on the email, he tightened the towel at his waist and moved around the desk, eyeing the door, half hoping Lori listened to Gina and half hoping she bulldozed inside. Something about her gave him the impression Gina would never know how she’d been bested and why he thought that was one of the many mysteries of Lori he wanted to solve. “Ms. Mullins.” “Gina,” Lori stated, mirroring Gina’s calmly modulated tone. “I have my orders.”

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“And still I suggest you move. Or I will move you. Either way I am going in.” She paused for a long moment between each statement, giving Gina a chance to respond. Trevor glanced between the main door and the door to the bathroom which led to his private apartment. Lori was one of few people privy to the set up. Mostly naked, there would be no escaping her if she got past Gina. Assuming he was interested in escape, which he wasn’t. Again calculating the distance he knew well, he considered darting to the bathroom and dropping the towel. If she was going to disturb him she may as well be disturbed. “I’ll tell him you put up a good fight,” Lori said from just beyond the door. Silent and slow, the knob turned. Glancing down at the towel, he shrugged and leaned against the nearest chair. If she had issues seeing him without his clothes she’d learn to listen to Gina. He’d have to consider how such an issue played into his plans. His brideto-be couldn’t take issue with his nudity. “Trevor.” She addressed him before she was even in the office. “I need—” Her words died as she flung the door wide. Her mouth dropped. She stumbled to a halt. For the first time since her return she failed to hide her reaction. Instant arousal, judging by her eyes. Gina silently closed the door, essentially imprisoning him and Lori together. He restrained himself. Instead of reaching out to her and answering her desire, he crossed his arms over his chest. Instead of listening to the wails of his body calling out to her, he sought her gaze as directly as he would any opponent. “How can I make your day better, Lori?”


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Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Closed again. She stuck her hands in her pockets where she fisted and unfisted them judging from the shifting of her pants. Trevor said nothing. Only waited, more pleased than a wolf scenting his life mate. Like a wolf, his body quivered until each hair follicle became a sensory receiver in the chilled breeze from the air conditioner. Lavender and mint. As if she’d just stepped from a garden or kitchen, her sweet scent sauntered around him, brushed teasing caresses over him until goose bumps took over his skin. “You need to stop.” She sounded far from strong in her conviction. Whatever her conviction was about. “Stop what?” Dreaming of you? Wanting you more than before? “Stop whatever it is you’re up to. You sent me balloons.” The last was a verbal foot stomp. “Ah.” He’d confused her. “I can’t do that.” The woman who’d testified against her former bosses and tormentors before slipping into darkness—he’d coaxed a few more details out of Breck—deserved to find joy again. “Do it anyway.” Her tone strengthened. She advanced on him—slowly—no longer distracted to the point of wide-eyed speechlessness by his near nudity. “You have me planning your wedding. You shouldn’t be sending me gifts or trying to lure me into falling for you again.” Her voice rose fractionally with each syllable of her tirade. “What is so wrong with falling for me, Lori?” He raised a brow, thrilled at how quickly his gift had gotten her riled. Damn if he wasn’t going to poke the lioness a bit and dare her into revealing her feelings. “You never complained the first time.”

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“This is different. Randy wasn’t around then.” She blanched and rocked back as if she’d been struck. “Was she?” Disgust darkened her demand. “Was Randy around? Were you playing us both? Is that how you came to be engaged so soon? That’s it.” “It makes sense.” She shook her head and sneered. “You bastard.” She lunged, landing a solid uppercut to his jaw before he could defend against her. His teeth clacked together. “Lori.” He grappled for her wrists, barely thwarting a second hit when the towel slipped and he grabbed for it. “Stop.” “You son of a bitch.” She punctuated her driving words with punches, some of which he blocked one-handed. Others he let go for the sake of keeping the towel secure at his waist. “I thought you were a better man.” More than a little surprised by her hand-to-hand abilities, and a little tired of defending against her, he released the towel, gripped her arms tightly just above her elbows and yanked her forward. The towel loosened, but until he let her go it would stay in place. “Stop.” He pinned her close, fighting the urge to roll his overly-aware-of-her dick against her. “You suck.” Not how I’d like. “You’re wrong.” “Bullshit. You’re only a player. A lousy, predictable, pus—” He seized her mouth in a kiss and held nothing back. He let his hurt and loneliness, love and confusion, desire and sadness pour forth. When she gasped for a breath, his tongue sought the inner haven of her mouth, where he found a slice of heaven he’d been missing, and thwarted any insults remaining in her arsenal.


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She’d

misunderstood

his

intentions

about

the

wedding,

but

the

misunderstanding had led her here. Into his arms with fire flashing inside and igniting her spirit. Damn if he’d let her go. When the tension in her petite curves finally uncoiled and she relaxed into him, when she allowed herself to enjoy his touch, when she began to kiss him in return, he straightened. Only an inch or two separated their mouths, a space easily conquered again, yet it felt more like miles. Not sure he could trust her to resist wailing on him some more, he retained his grip on her arms. At some point she’d rested her hands on his hips, just above the towel. Though she probably gave the contact no thought, his body noticed and responded with racing tingles radiating from beneath her hands. “I’m not a player, Lori.” “Bull.” “Yes, I asked you to plan my wedding.” “No shit.” He rolled over her. “But Randy is only an employee.” “One you’re very friendly with.” “I’m friendly with all my employees, but I’ve never been friendly with any of them.” Definitely not as friendly as he’d been with her. Or wanted to be. Friendly enough to be rewarded with her smile, her laugh, the humor she shared with few. Friendly enough to be granted mornings, nights and stolen afternoons to pleasure her and make the birthmark on her hip dance with her quivering skin. She leaned her torso away to see him better. Suspicion glared up at him. “Then who are you marrying? I’ll have to meet her before we go much farther in the plans.” Here it was. The risk-it-all-though-the-house-didn’t-hold-the-strongest-cards moment. The moment he’d thought he’d be dressed for. Now, his vulnerability

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was huge. If she ran he couldn’t give chase. If she refused him with any finality in her tone… He’d have to honor her wishes. He loved her too much to not, even if it meant shredding his heart. Both scenarios sucked. “You, Lori. I intend to marry you.”


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Chapter Five

You, Lori. I intend to marry you. Trevor’s words, spoken as plainly as when he’d agreed to back her business looped in her buzzing brain. Around and around and around they flipped and flopped, zipped and zagged through her head mixed with the cacophony of her slamming pulse. Lori locked her eyes on the indentation at the base of Trevor’s neck. You, Lori. She needed to clear her mind. I intend to marry you. The words wouldn’t leave her and she couldn’t think of a response. He had to want a response. A specific, agreeable response. His throat rippled where she still stared. He was going to speak, add something to what he’d just said. He had to stop. Her head swam with possibilities of what may come next. She quaked, every tissue deep inside, with the need to escape. She tugged against his hold, tried to move away. He wasn’t a giant man with seriously sculpted muscles, but he had a solid six inches and fifty pound advantage. And he was strong. Freedom would only come when he allowed it. “I love you, Lori.” Stop talking please. The unspoken plea drew out like a desperate whine, but remained unspoken because she knew on some level she liked what he was saying. She liked his confidence and his plan, even if acceptance was impossible.

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“You have a lot going now.” His thumbs rubbed tiny circles on the insides of her arm. “You may not be ready to hear me out, and I understand.” You just think you do. Her chest was becoming increasingly tight and uncomfortable. She wanted to rub it. Her eyes were beginning to sting with the pricks of tears. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow him to see. “Lori. I respect you too much to force anything on you.” He kissed the corner of one twitching eye. “But I’m not going to make it easy for you to deny me.” He kissed the other eye. With renewed desperation for escape washing through her, she pulled again at her arms. His grip broke. He caught the towel at his waist just before it fell. Just before it revealed his arousal in three-dimensional naked glory. I’m not going to make it easy for you to deny me. She stumbled back. I intend to marry you. Shaking her head, unable to form a word of denial or rebuttal, she backed to the door, cautiously guiding her way with a hand outstretched behind her. “I’m going to woo you, Lori.” Oh hell. Men didn’t talk like that any more, and damn but it turned her on. She edged through the sitting area with escape in her mind and hunger clawing through her belly. She wanted what he offered, craved everything it entailed, had dreamt of it during captivity and months in hiding. Trevor was one wish she’d marked off her list though. I love you. Acceptance of his claim as a truth, a reality, existed beyond her realm of possibilities. Especially since he didn’t know her like he thought he did. She twisted the doorknob, seconds from freedom.


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I’ll win your heart again, Lori. I’ll make you want me again. Trevor, thank God, hadn’t moved to follow. Only his haunting words pursued. If only those were her issues. She needed to figure out who she was without her operative job to define her and somehow she had to come to terms with the wrongs she’d committed in the name of work. Wrongs like getting an innocent man killed and Trevor hurt. She turned and fled, choosing the stairs over waiting for the elevator. Gina said something, but her questioning sympathy went unheard beneath the tearful tirade seeking release. Lori held them back by a force of will until she’d run down the nine flights and sequestered herself in the privacy of her office. Sinking to the newly carpeted floor behind her locked door she broke. I intend to marry you. Weeks of not seeing Trevor, of thinking he’d hired her to plan a wedding to another woman had pressed in on her slowly and consistently. Each day her imagination tormented her with images of fitting Randy for a gown, of guiding her and Trevor through the other aspects of their wedding. Worst had been the moments when she’d allowed herself to recall his caresses or reflect on the security she’d only ever found in his arms. His caresses and security were sensations she’d never know again. Yet, now he was offering her those things and she’d run away. Scared. Hurt. Confused. She saw where she’d gotten the impression he was engaged to Randy. She’d allowed his vagueness to lead her down the path of misunderstanding because she simply wasn’t ready for any other truth. The kiss in his office…the feel of his body against hers…the promise of his claims… She wanted them all. She could have none. I love you.

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Her first relationship with Trevor had been built around a lie. Her whole life had been. Regardless, he only thought he knew her and where she came from. He knew only what her cover had allowed, very little of which was true. Revealing the truths would mean divulging all her secrets. He could never know all that she’d been and done.

Programming, office politics and security issues commanded Trevor’s attention for the next few days. The security issues had him longing for an applicant worthy of a management position, but everyone he’d tried failed to share his vision and respect his decisions. Still he sought excuses to head downstairs in hopes of seeing Lori or stealing a few moments with her. He called hoping to hear her voice, never knowing what he’d say. Each attempt ended in failure. She was either off-site or in a meeting with the privacy drapes pulled over her office windows. He’d had lunch or dinner delivered to her every day with a thornless, sterling rose with a note ending in “Yours”. She never responded. She was denying him the chance to woo her. Pity for her, he’d just broken out a new play. In the event she’d won over someone in the building to warn her of his movements, he took the elevator from his private apartment—the one no one could monitor—and approached her space from the back of the building with a gift he was certain would bring a smile to Lori’s lips and position him one space closer to her private world. He peeked around each corner, looking and pulling back fast before looking again for potential interruptions or barriers to getting Lori alone. At the second turn he laughed at himself.


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I feel like a teenager sneaking past a girlfriend’s parents to reach her bedroom. Damn if the excitement didn’t quicken his blood and make him feel as alive as he had during those horny teen moments. Lori. Lori made him feel alive in a way nothing and no one had before loving her or after she’d disappeared. She made it feel natural to sneak though his building carrying a large basket of surprises. Whatever had her holding back, he wasn’t going to lose. At her open front doors, he found the space empty. Empty of people anyway. The furniture had been pushed away from one wall of the newly carpeted room while a fresh coat of paint—a cheerful shade of pale lavender that contrasted the ivory tint on the other walls—dried. He’d heard through the building grapevine that the previous shade had come out several shades too dark, and Lori had an eye for the details. Walking through the space, boxes neatly labeled with identifiers such as vases, paper stock, veils, etc. were piled along the glass wall of each private meeting suite, waiting for their time to be unpacked. Lori’s office, the kitchen area, and the dress stock room were each found in a similar state. The space felt…anxious for its anticipated opening. Somewhere in the sequined sea of satin, lace, and who knew what other fabrics, faint carols and muttering reached him. The warehouse had been transformed and filled with dresses covered in clear hanging bags. Weaving through row after row of ivory and white bridal dresses, as well as bridesmaids dresses of unlimited colors, ranging from size zero to who knew how big, he finally found Lori in a row of eights checking things off on her clipboard.

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Her normally tidy hair had been pinned up with a giant clip that didn’t quite control it. Thick chunks fell loose to brush her neck and face and her makeup was a little smudged, but otherwise she looked crisp in a satiny top, pleated slacks and strappy heels. Studious. Sexy. He moved the gift behind his back bracing the handle in both hands. “This is a bride’s orgy in the making.” She spun on her heel and tilted precariously off balance before regaining her composure and glaring at him. “Not a good time, Trevor.” “You work too hard.” “Says the man who lives primarily in an apartment attached to his office and travels weeks at a time.” “But I’m forming new habits. Taking more time off. More breaks.” “Congratulations.” Unconcerned with his presence, she shrugged and turned back to her list. “Thanks.” He stepped closer, close enough to inhale her lavender and mint scent. The base of his back tingled as his body responded to hers. Leaning in, he positioned his mouth at her ear, careful not to touch her despite his body’s urging. “You should take a break too.” She jumped sideways and pivoted toward him again. “Not now.” Shoving a hand through her mussed up hair, he noticed the dark circles marring her eyes beneath the makeup. “I have to figure out just how many ways they’ve screwed up this shipment. As if they think every bride is going to be a ten or less, or that a complete order isn’t necessary.” “How long have you been in here?” “Since this morning?”


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Her absentminded uncertainty reminded him of the rush he’d thrived on in the beginning of his company. Some of the exhilaration had returned after his hospitalization. “Food?” “No time. I’m alone and need to get this order correction in today.” The stress in her tone rose with each frustrated word. Her eyes flashed a little wildly. “Or I won’t have the samples I need in time for the planned opening.” “Let me help.” Shifting the gift he carried to one hand, he pulled the free hand from behind his back and took her clipboard. “I don’t have time to teach an old-monied rich boy the complexities of taking inventory.” When she grabbed for what was clearly her lifeline of the moment he held it out of her reach. “How hard can it be? Each dress has a tag.” He glanced at the pages on the board. “You match the tags to the shipping invoice and then to your original order.” “How do you know about inventory?” “I haven’t always owned a company.” “But your parents are rich.” Genuine confusion colored her words, as if the idea that anyone born into money wouldn’t know how to work. She’d never divulged her story, yet he suddenly understood that even before she’d gone through her career-ending trauma she hadn’t had an easy life. Though he hadn’t seen it before, the effects of a less-than-privileged life were all over her. In her pride, her work ethic, her hesitancy to accept his proposal. She wanted to prove herself to herself. “I wanted a car and spending money. My parents wanted me to understand the value of earning my own things.” “Hmm.”

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“Take a break and get something in your stomach before you faint. Even if it’s only this.” He revealed the gift and was rewarded by the smile he’d hoped to see. Wide. Lots of teeth. Beautiful. “You’re kidding.” “Not even a little.” “You have to stop doing this.” A small chuckle and the glint in her gaze showed her surprise as she reached for the pale purple basket filled with Dr. Pepper and Baby Ruth candy bars. Another rose was tied with a darker purple bow shot through with gold to the twisted handle. Christmas cheer and caffeine. He winked. “I’m wooing you.” “How did you remember—?” “Your favorite junk foods?” “Yeah.” “I remember everything about you, as a man should of the woman he’s going to marry.” “Trevor.” “Think of it as an early Christmas gift. Go take your break.” He cut off her warning before she could argue. “I don’t need a date to know I’ll have you in a dress and heading down an aisle before long.” With that, he turned and took up the task he’d watched her grumbling over. She was gone less than ten minutes but she returned with a drink for both of them. She’d also taken the time to straighten her hair and freshen her makeup— neither of which would she have bothered with if she wasn’t interested in him. “How badly have you messed up my lists?” She traded him a drink for the clipboard and frowned as she flipped pages. “What’s the verdict, Boss? Do I pass as an inventory taker?” “Passably,” she admitted with a pleased smile.


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“Good.” He took the clipboard back. “Why don’t you get another board? We’ll finish in no time.” “Don’t you have a company to run?” “It could be argued that’s what I’m doing here.” He smiled, already having called Gina to clear his afternoon unless something was an emergency. “Except you’re a silent partner.” “I’m offering free labor, not opinions. Though if you want an opinion, I will say I love what you’ve done down here.” With an exaggerated sigh she moved to a table near the door for another clipboard. “Don’t fool yourself into thinking this is winning you any points.” “Of course not.” Handing her half the pages still needing to be checked, he suppressed another smile. She may not like it, but she was softening. Maybe it was the sugar and caffeine. Maybe it was the assistance on a stressed afternoon. He couldn’t claim to care what had her softening, as long as he made progress.

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Chapter Six

Lori sent off the re-order form and received confirmation just before her supplier closed for the day. Leaning back in her chair with a huge sigh of relief, she looked around and realized Trevor had slipped out. On the edge of the desk near the vase she’d been collecting his flowers in was a note. I hope you’ll come up for dinner when you’re done. Yours. He’d anticipated her need and filled it without hesitation or complaint. He’d helped until the task had been finished and then left the business dealing to her. He didn’t remind her that he was funding her. Instead, he remained true to his word and made the perfect silent partner. More surprising was how comfortably they’d worked together. The easier he made things the harder they became. He couldn’t have planned a better way to mess with her mind or erode her defenses. Assuming that was his intention. Rubbing the headache pressing against her temples she went to the elevators. How was she not supposed to love a man who filled a basket with her favorite vices and then rolled up the sleeves of his two-hundred dollar shirt to help her check inventory? Loving him, how was she going to resist whatever else he had up his sleeve? He wouldn’t stop at candy bars. Mitchell waved from his post at the main desk in the lobby. Sometime during the day Randy’s team had transformed the lobby into a quaint Christmas scene complete with a giant tree and a Santa throne chair. Blue Chip people worked fast, and their work reminded her she needed to get her shopping done.

Nikki Duncan

Lori ignored his knowing smile and waved as she stepped into the elevator. Joining Trevor for dinner would likely nip her in the nether regions—it would certainly bring memories back just as every visit to his office had, especially the last one where he’d worn only a towel. Please let him be dressed. The elevator dinged its announcement of her arrival. She closed her eyes and begged any higher power tuned into her. “Please let him be dressed. Please.” In the darkened waiting area that had been transformed into a Christmas wonderland, Gina’s computer hummed quietly while blue computer chips danced across the monitor in random dance moves—hip hop, ballroom, street, ballet. Each female chip wore a skirt made of the company name—Blue Chip Technologies. Chuckling, she turned toward the muted light coming from Trevor’s office. A few steps later she realized it wasn’t coming from his office but was flowing in through the bathroom connecting to his private apartment. “Crap,” she muttered. In the office she could convince herself they were only business partners. The office held fewer memories of a personal nature. It was in bed in the apartment overlooking the ocean where she’d explored his body, lost herself in the name of a job which had turned too personal almost instantly. At the threshold of the bathroom, with a pulsing song she couldn’t allow herself to remember coming from beyond, she almost turned back. Every time she’d gone into his apartment business had been left behind. Every personal experience had grown more intimate. Run. She stepped back, ready to obey her inner voice. He wouldn’t know she’d taken the coward’s approach. As long as he didn’t find out she could escape

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explaining why she needed to avoid him. Unless Mitchell had called to announce her. Damn. She moved forward. It wasn’t the idea of Mitchell calling ahead that decided her. Rather, her own self-pride propelled her on. Living with cowardice didn’t fit in her life. It was one lesson her mother had taught, during a midnight dash toward freedom. Once safely away from her abuser, Mom had called the cops and then testified against him. The peace of mind and lack of bruises had made up for leaving her few treasured belongings behind. Until her mom had died from pneumonia and she’d been sent into foster care. It hadn’t been a bad situation. She’d liked the family she spent her life with. They just hadn’t been her family, and without that connection she’d never really fit in. No. The easy road had never been hers. So with a raspy-voiced crooner she and Trevor had voted for on a televised talent show singing about loving arms, Lori entered the den of temptation and arousing memories. Trevor stood behind the bar in the kitchen with a cold beer in hand and an all-too-wise grin spearing his face. He’d shed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt’s top two buttons. The sleeves were still rolled up like they’d been downstairs where he’d held dress after dress aloft with a comment on how great it might suit her. He was pushing, but the man had taste, she’d give him that. “I wondered if you would come in or leave and pretend you hadn’t been here.” “I almost left.” The truth fell from her as easily as lies once had. The change crawled greasily along her skin. She couldn’t afford to lose the ability to lie. Some secrets needed to remain hidden.


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“I’m glad you accepted the invitation. Drink?” “To dinner only. I want to thank you for your help this afternoon.” She nodded at his beer bottle. “I’ll have what you’re having.” “Really? I have a nice merlot.” He pulled a second bottle from the fridge. “I’ll enjoy the company even if you did feel obligated.” “I actually prefer the beer.” It was another truth she’d never shared. Beer just wasn’t as sophisticated as a finely developed taste for wine, and only the best had been acceptable in Madame V’s eyes. He handed over a cold bottle with narrowed eyes. “What changed?” “Everything, and with it I won the ability to be me. Or learn what that means.” What was with her and the truths? She was only giving him reasons to believe she’d accept his proposal. He led her to the living room area and sat his beer on the scarred table. “I always wondered what parts of yourself you held back.” “Held back? Now that’s one I haven’t been accused of before.” She sat in the large recliner. The couch… She couldn’t sit there without recalling the things they’d done on it. “The list is small.” He sat on the table and slid over until his knee bumped hers. “But there were moments when you seemed to be wearing an ill-fitting façade. By the way, I ordered pizza. Pepperoni and pineapple.” She laughed. “If Madame V had ever known I ate that with you…” “She’d have thought I forced it on you,” he finished with a flirtatious wink. She directed the conversation away from the past and particularly away from Madame V. That topic too easily reminded her of the three-month-long assignment as a call-girl, the lies she’d told to maintain her cover and the almost deadly ending.

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An hour of comfortable conversation later, with the pizza sitting between them half gone and mostly cold, Trevor grew silently reflective for several minutes. “If I ask a question will you answer it?” “That is a question. My answer would be a suggestion that you ask a direct question.” I’ll figure which evasion to go with. “You’re not agreeing to give me an answer.” “No, I’m not.” Regardless of how she still felt about him, and the relief she’d found when learning he wasn’t engaged, some answers could never be given. It was an inescapable fact of her life. “When we were together, before, how much…” He dropped his face into his hands and dug the tips of his fingers into his scalp. “How much of what we shared was real for you?” “Trevor,” she whispered over the pain his doubt inflicted. String that tightrope a little higher next time. “All the times we lay in bed or sat on this couch talking… The dreams we shared… Were those things real?” Saying yes would lead to him asking if they were still. Saying no would break his heart, and hers. Both scenarios sat uncomfortably heavy in her shrinking chest. She really had grown into a bad liar over the last few months. “A lot has changed since those nights.” “But not everything.” He stood, took her hand and led her to the sofa she’d avoided earlier. “You’re free of Madame V, and that life. You’ve come back to me. Something from then had to have been real.” She couldn’t tell if it was desperation shaking his vocals or if his conviction was simply too strong to remain level. “I can’t get into a relationship with you, Trevor.”


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He tugged her down beside him, keeping her close. “We had a relationship beyond business from the start. Then and now.” Charm sparked in his gaze, compelled her to stay focused on him. He erased the distance between them, smudged the line of her resolve. Her belly tightened low and deep. Her sex trembled. “Trevor.” “Then.” He kissed the left corner of her mouth. “And now.” He kissed the right. “We were never just business…” He kissed her nose. “Though I’d have paid any price to get you away from Madame V a lot sooner.” He kissed just between her eyes. “I’m damn glad you escaped.” Escaped. Ha. Near death with starvation, she’d been dumped in a gutter a few hours before the FBI raided Madame V’s mansion. Which of Madame’s lackeys had been her dumper would likely remain a mystery—one she didn’t care to solve now that she was safe. “Thank you.” It sounded more like a question, but the man was messing with her mind again. Her free hand inched across her lap toward Trevor’s. Her brain held out for distance but clearly her body wasn’t interested in caution. Her brain won and stopped her hand. “I’m proud of you, Lori, and I find myself not caring what I don’t know about you.” You would if you knew. He took her mouth with his and drove thought from her mind. Her body, suddenly a heated, prickly-skinned mass of need, held the controls.

The small insights he was gaining, the tiny glimpses of pieces he was putting together, made words unnecessary for him to understand why she’d avoided the

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couch. The hours they’d cuddled on the cushions had banished any lines. She was likely reminded of them again with their new arrangement. They’d met when he was hiring high-class escorts to attend business functions because they came with the benefit of zero drama and complications. Or they had until Lori. Rules and expectations fled where she was concerned. Brushing his lips against hers, tasting an intriguing mix of innocence and experience, he rediscovered some of what had called him to her from the beginning. “Do you remember our first date?” She dropped her head to the side as he trailed kisses along her neck. “We went to an awards dinner.” “And walked through the downtown art festival.” He nibbled on the lightly protruding line at the front of her neck, the tendon running from her collar bone to her neck, a spot he knew would make her shiver. “You kept a hand on my back.” “You appealed to me. Your intelligence.” He slid a hand behind her, flattening it at the small of her back and holding her close. “The way you tolerated the public part of my job.” She shook a little. “Touching you, even before I’d tasted you, filled a void in me I hadn’t noticed.” Lori sighed and moved deeper into him the way she had that first night walking, the way she had each time since. Whenever he’d touched her she’d shifted a fraction closer. “You made being with someone easy.” No woman had ever made a relationship easy. And none had seemed to enjoy him for him without seeing the zeroes in his checkbook. Lori may see the zeroes, but more from a desire to avoid them beyond their business deal. “You made me feel safe.” She whispered the admission almost reluctantly.


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Surprise trickled along the tails of rising arousal as he nudged her back into the corner of the sofa. The biggest surprise was that he finally indentified the void she’d filled. Safety. She’d made him feel safe, just as she said he had for her. He slipped the pearly buttons of her blouse free one at a time. “You remember the times we spent on this sofa?” She stiffened, which told him she did remember. Each time had begun on a night he’d paid for her companionship and though they’d meant a great deal to him he hadn’t been able to take her in his bed on those nights. “Tonight is nothing like those nights, Lori.” The smooth, lightly freckled skin peeking at him from between the part in her blouse prickled with gooseflesh. After placing a lingering kiss at the center of her breastbone, holding himself back from devouring her, he tugged her top open to uncover the silvery lace bra cupping her breasts. “You’ve chosen to be here.” His dick jerked within his trousers, but he wasn’t rushing. “There is no business between us tonight.” “No.” She sounded breathy, like she’d run three miles, uphill, in the cold. “No business.” Yet she wasn’t calling it intimacy or even personal and the shadows in her sad eyes said she equated the couch with painful intimacy. He took the small allowance she granted and tasted her breasts through the elegant lace. “I’m going to erase those memories, Lori.” Her lids drifted down. She dropped her head to the couch, simultaneously arching into him. “Please, Trevor. Please make me forget.” Her voice broke at the end of her plea. A tear leaked out the corner of her eye. His heart trembled, vibrated up his chest and throat. She’d never asked him for anything more important and he refused to let her down.

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He slid his hand up her back and popped her bra clasps before moving to ease the shirt off. She moaned and writhed, just little lifts of her pelvis and breasts as her body strained to be closer. His own body tensed and coiled. After stripping her of her bra and dropping it to the floor, he leaned back to admire her. Tracing his fingers over her, teasing and tempting, he familiarized himself again with her body. Curves and straight lines. Petite. Teasing fingers. “I dreamed of you. Every night since I last saw you I’ve dreamt of you. Dreamt of touching you and having you beneath me.” Even the weeks he’d been in a coma he’d dreamed of her. Her eyelids fluttered open. A few of the shadows had left. “I dreamed of you.” The words whispered like a caress. Her quaking hand, as she raised it and rested it on his cheek, was a billowing breeze which buoyed his hopes. With a low moan, he dropped his head and pulled a nipple into his mouth. Laving her with caresses, relishing in the feel of her hands exploring him, her fingers working his shirt buttons free, Trevor delighted in banishing the remaining shadows from her eyes. From her soul. He explored her breasts, her tight abs, her belly button and all the skin between. On his journey back up toward her neck he noticed a narrow pucker of skin about an inch long that hadn’t been there before. Tracing the new scar first with his tongue and then with a finger he met her steady gaze. “What happened?” “A knife.” There was more to it, according to the vague tidbits Breck had shared, but the soft finality in her tone said not to ask for more. He wouldn’t. She would tell him when she was ready, about the scar, the captivity and her past.


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With another kiss to the pink line, he continued down her body, removing her slacks and boy-short panties. He left her strappy heels on. Some fantasies never got old. With her naked before him, knowing he wouldn’t maintain control if he joined her on the sofa, Trevor repositioned her so she was slouched into the couch with her hips resting at the edge. He knelt between her spread legs and fingered her neatly trimmed pussy. “You’re gorgeous.” Staring into her eyes he willed her to believe him. “With your hair messed up and dark against your flushed skin.” He glided his hands along her trim thighs and around to the tender backs of her knees. “I love having you spread out before me.” He kissed the inside of her left thigh. “Ready to be sampled.” Then the right. “Eager and willing.” He kissed higher up and on the left again. “Open for whatever I may do.” Then higher still on the right. Back and forth, left and right, higher and higher he edged closer and closer to her swollen sex. “Trevor.” She pleaded with him and shifted side to side, up and down, maneuvering for a better position. When he finally reached her mound, with his cock straining against his zipper and his body bellowing for completion, he only swiped the tip of his tongue along her pink folds before breaking contact. Lori cried out and strained upward. Instead of fulfilling her request immediately he waited until she’d relaxed back against the sofa, only wiggling slightly as her body hadn’t fully settled. Bending, he again eased the tip of his tongue up, pressing a tad deeper than the last time. Again she bucked up and again he retreated until she’d calmed. Rapture wrapped around his spine, gripping tighter with each slip of his tongue along her weeping sex. Patient and persistent he continued the routine

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until Lori could hardly relax between licks and his own blood throbbed within constricting veins and skin. She’d always been a responsive lover and though they hadn’t always rushed to the finish line he’d never taken so long to please her. Tonight’s lovemaking was a slow dance he hungered to draw out. Their breaths clashed in gasps of impassioned desperation when, unable to resist a moment longer, he pulled the nub of her clit between his teeth and gently nipped at her. She screamed, buried her hands in his hair and pulled him close. He nibbled and suckled on her, driving her nearer the edge of release. Just as her quivers amassed into an almost constant stream—and him along with her— he shifted from her clit to her pussy and drove her up again. Her fists yanked at chunks of his hair. She arched off the couch and with another scream vibrating out of her and bouncing through the room she pulsed and quaked around his tongue and spilled her creamy essence into his mouth. Neither of them would ever again equate the sex they’d had here with her past. Before she’d fully recovered, Lori edged off the sofa and pushed him to his back on the floor. “Now it’s my turn to please you.” “So you’re going to marry me?” It wasn’t what she’d meant, but he wasn’t going to pass up the chance to ask. She trailed kisses over his chest and smiled up at him. “No, but I won’t deny us this.” “I’ll take what I can get.” For now.


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Chapter Seven

The night on Trevor’s couch, then floor, then bed had been six days ago. Six days of seeing him coming from or going to a meeting, heading out at night with Breck and the guys on his FBI team, or sitting across from his desk while they discussed budget revisions and projections. Six days of casual or business contact and not a single mention of wedding plans or the night they’d spent together. Six days without a note ending in “Yours”. Neither had he made another move to renew the relationship he’d said he wanted. Brush offs and rejections were easier head-on, but when he didn’t raise the subject… Lori was getting itchy. “It makes no sense,” she muttered to herself. “What?” Misty asked from the doorway. Lori waved her off and returned to her sketches. “You’re thinking a man should make sense.” Ignoring Lori’s brush off, Misty moved in and plopped her silk-clad butt into a nearby chair. “That would be a crazy expectation.” But a nice reality if it could happen. “Then where is sense lacking?” Resting her pencil on the desk, Lori looked at Misty patiently. This conversation could too quickly head down dark lanes best bypassed. “Don’t you have a job to do?” “Don’t you have a man to do?” “No!” Though she’d thought for one night it would be a regular occurrence.

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“Ahh.” Misty studied her hot pink, open-toed stilettos and rocked the chair from side to side. “You want one. More specifically you want Trevor Masters.” “I don’t have time for a relationship.” “Everyone has time for the right relationship.” “There’s no right relationship for me.” Not anymore. Trevor’s shift back to business partner had proven that. “Oh come on. I saw your face when you got that ridiculous rat.” Misty pointed at the rat in the corner. The balloons had died but the smiling rat stuck around to offer its maniacal smile when she needed a pick up. “Trevor’s happy there.” Yeah, she’s named him in a moment of perversity. “You’ve named him and kept him there to remind you of the man you can’t let go. Just like you limit yourself to one candy bar from your basket a day.” “It’s an apt name as Trevor is a rat. The candy bars…” She shrugged. “That’s simply weight management.” “Says the short bean pole with an adolescent runner’s metabolism.” Misty plucked a candy bar from the basket, ripped it open and took a big bite. “I have to work out an hour a day to afford one of these a week and you sit here with twenty or so on your desk.” “I didn’t buy them for myself.” “No.” Misty drew the word out drastically. “The man of your dreams lured you to his bed with them.” “Oh please,” Lori admonished. “He isn’t the man of my dreams. I wasn’t lured with chocolate.” Pity she didn’t convince herself with the evasion. It had been his help in the warehouse that had nudged her over the line of resistance. “Don’t act coy with me. I’ve known you since preschool. I know when you’re lying and I know when you’ve been with a man.”


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“Your radar must be broken.” “No. If it wasn’t chocolate it was his inventory skills and pizza. It’s been six days since you walked in here with a distracted smile on your face, and even though you’ve learned the truth about Trevor’s engagement and his wedding intentions, even though you’ve rejected his proposal, you’re still working on sketches for the wedding.” She told Misty too much. “These are for my portfolio.” “And yet they’re exactly what you always said you wanted for yourself.” Lori looked at the scenes she’d drawn of a bride and groom standing beneath a gazebo with the ocean behind them, of a first dance with bridesmaids on the outskirts dressed in dresses of the palest lavender holding small bouquets of matching roses, of a four-tiered, white cake with thin piping on the second and bottom layers in the same shade of lavender, of the bride in an a-line dress with sterling threading woven along the bottom hem and up to frame the small slit in the skirt. So what if the groom looked like Trevor and the bride had her hair color and style. It didn’t matter that sterling roses were her favorite so much so she’d almost used one in her logo before deciding Tulle and Tulips had a more romantic ring than Tulle and Roses. “These images depict an elegant and simple wedding suitable for many women. I’ve also done ones of lavishly extravagant events, beach gatherings and small courthouse weddings.” “But those have been sent to the framer for the walls while you hoard these.” Misty took a bite of the gooey candy bar and then spoke around nuts and nougat. “Just admit the truth.” “What truth?”

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“You want to accept Trevor’s proposal. You want to plan this wedding and frame the actual photographs of you and him for your walls.” “You’re crazy.” She couldn’t concoct a believable argument for herself. How could she hope to convince Misty who was so right about her? Especially when she couldn’t tell her darkest secrets? “I’m not the one working at nine on a Sunday on a wedding plan no one will be shown.” “Nonsense.” “Well.” Misty popped the rest of the candy bar into her mouth and talked around it. “If it’s nonsense and I’m so crazy then you won’t be interested in hearing Trevor’s on his way here.” “You couldn’t possibly know that.” But damn if her heart didn’t kick with excitement. “Okay.” Misty tossed the wrapper into the trash. “But if you want to get back into his bed I suggest you unbury yourself from work and find some courage. The man’s only going to ask you so many times.” Misty headed toward the door completely unrepentant for her lack of finesse or her use of information Lori had shared. She’d always been honest, no matter how uncomfortable it may be. It was a trait Lori loved because it forced her to strive for the same. “He hasn’t called or made a move in six days, Misty.” She had really lost her ability to lie or hide her feelings. “How can you think he still wants me?” “And I thought you were smart.” “Hey!” “He’s using reverse psychology. The classic take-away,” Misty shrugged. “It’s all about you getting messed up so you realize how much you need him. Miss him. Love him.”


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“I don’t.” She stopped herself with a quick headshake. Her heart raced at the idea of Trevor still wanting her. “Do you really think so? You think he could be the right guy for me?” She wasn’t certain what she wanted to hear, and nothing Misty said would end her emotional wavering, but curiosity was a nagging bitch with a loud voice. “No,” Misty drawled with rare sarcasm. “I think he’s a horrible match. It makes no difference that you light up when you hear his name or see him walking by or when you look at one of the gifts he’s picked for you. It doesn’t mean shit that he can’t pass through the lobby without stopping and hoping to catch a glimpse of you.” Misty moved to the drafting table and rested a hand over Lori’s. She softened her tone. “I know you’re still healing from whatever you went through all those months ago, but maybe it’s time you risk something in your personal life.” “I can’t handle another break.” “Who says you’ll have to?”

Trevor leaned against the wall in the hall outside the double glass doors newly etched with a long-stemmed tulip, vibrant purple in hue with the petals just opening. The artist had balanced the bloom so perfectly it seemed to quiver at eye level with the stem stretching down, with three delicate leaves. The stems disappeared at the bottom of the floor behind white and ivory ripples of fabric and lace. The business name, Tulle and Tulips Designer Weddings, floated above the etched fabric with the tails of scripty letters just barely brushing the fabric. He’d seen a sketch of the doors, but what he’d visualized was drastically less elegant than the finished product.

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His banker—his dad—had practically wept at the amount of money he’d put into an account for her. Lori had only smiled, said thank you and set about turning her visions into reality. And much to his surprise, despite their blatant curiosity, neither his mom nor his dad had been by to check out Lori or her new venture. The time would come though. Soon. “If you’re waiting for her to come out,” Misty said as she exited the shop, “you should invest in a cot.” “Work that late will she?” “Yeah.” Glancing over her shoulder toward the out of sight friend she’d just left, Misty moved closer. “I don’t know you, Trevor.” “But?” “But I’m glad you’ve made this possible for Lori. She needed…” She trailed off, shifting her feet as if she wouldn’t continue. She didn’t for a long while. “Life hasn’t been kind to Lori. She’s more fragile than she seems.” He figured as much. “And putting this business together as quickly as possible is her current therapy.” Misty’s head popped back in surprise. “You say that as if you understand her.” “Life stopped showing me kindness for a while.” Until Lori walked back into it. “Work is a natural and relatively safe refuge.” Numbers and plans didn’t betray you and when you signed checks with enough zeroes people forgave most overzealous demands. Though from what he’d heard, Lori hadn’t quite reached levels he’d been known for and the workers on her job were as eager to get started each day as they were willing to stay late if needed. It made sense. According to a shared insight during dinner the other night, Lori’s granddad had worked in


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construction, so she understood the demands of the work. Understood them doubly since he had died when she was ten because a builder in a rush had cut safety corners. “If you know that then maybe you could help her see how closely she’s treading the line of burnout.” “Gladly.” He pushed off the wall and Misty headed toward the parking garage. Her challenge had been issued and accepted. He opened the double doors with a grin stretching his cheeks. It was time for Lori Mullins to rediscover another part of her life. “Oh, Lori. Come out, come out wherever you are.” Her muffled “here” came from her office near the back. He headed her way, calling out as he went. “Well get out here. We have plans.” In her silence he could picture her scanning her memory for plans they didn’t make. When she sauntered out, the confusion he’d expected was rife on her face. “What plans?” “Ones that get you away from work for awhile.” Light of heart and ready to play, he conquered the remaining distance—ignoring the suspicion in her stare— grabbed her hands and pulled her flush against him. Her head dropped back. Her mouth parted. She expected a kiss, and while her body, even her eyes, said it would be welcomed, a glimmer of her protective barrier—no more than a bracing of her shoulders really—stopped him from claiming her mouth as he’d planned. Instead, he kissed the pulse pounding below her ear, loitering for a moment to absorb the feel of her. Then he released her. “Get what you need to lock up, but you won’t want to mess with a purse.”

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“What are you up to?” She glanced down at her blouse, jeans and slipper shoes and then back at him still in his suit. “I’m not exactly dressed for the kind of scene you are.” “You’re perfect.” Rather than wait for an argument, he turned her back toward her office and gave her a little nudge. “Get your keys. Meet me out front.” He was almost to the entrance when she called out. “I don’t appreciate being given orders.” Too bad. He didn’t look back at her. He didn’t stop. He did shrug. “Don’t keep me waiting, Lori. Even Job had his limits.” In the outer hallway, away from anyone’s curious eyes, and Lori’s cautious ones, Trevor broke into a jog, pulling his tie and jacket off as he went. At his car, he pulled a blanket from the trunk and lowered the top. Step one in reminding Lori how to enjoy life—have her feel the wind in her hair. Step two—keep her off balance.


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Chapter Eight

Trusting the vacancy that had been in Trevor’s gaze was scary. If he’d had a glint of wickedness or hint of arousal she’d have known how to act. She should be prepared anyway, thanks to the government’s training, but Trevor rattled her foundations. Yet instead of second-guessing him she doubted herself. “Good evening, Lori.” Daniel, the night guard, smiled from behind the front security desk as he looked from her to Trevor waiting in a sleek Mercedes convertible at the curb outside and back to her. “Did Mr. Masters talk you out of your cave?” “I guess you could say that.” “Good. You work too hard. Though I’ll miss seeing you on my evening rounds.” “Try to manage.” She liked Daniel. He was cute and his flirtations did nothing for her, which made him the best kind of man. Safe. Trevor was anything but safe. A blast of cold smacked at Lori as she pushed open the giant lobby doors. She pulled her jacket closed. Trevor had shed his tie, but other than his suit jacket he sat with the car top down as if it was summer. Given his mood inside— playful, carefree—he wouldn’t care about the chill. He probably wasn’t even noticing it. “New car?” She remembered him having a four-door sedan suitable for driving business associates before.

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“Yeah.” He leaned over and opened her door from the driver’s seat. “I decided to shed a little of my practicality.” “Could we slip a little of it back on and raise the top?” He smiled and patted the seat. “Live a little.” She stepped closer and rested a hand on the door, but didn’t get in. “By freezing or by destroying my hair with windblown split ends?” “Nothing a pair of scissors and a trim won’t fix.” He took her hand and tugged her into the car. Lori pulled her knees up, lifting her legs before her shins scraped along the door. She slid a little on the leather seat and had to grip the dash to steady herself. Trevor chuckled as he leaned over her to pull the door shut. With his torso brushing hers, his lips lingering close, he stared into her eyes. Her slip-n-sliding belly skidded. Her teeter tottering heart trembled, transfixed on an upward totter. He was going to kiss her. She licked her lips and canted forward. Cravings crashed through her, dared her to suggest they head back inside for some alone time. “Buckle up.” Trevor patted her leg and sat up, leaving her hungry and confused. “Where are we going?” She reached for the seatbelt. That was twice now he hadn’t taken the kiss. Twice he’d riled her up, flipped the switch on her arousal, and turned away. There wouldn’t be a third. Trevor reached into the backseat and pulled out his silk tie and a blanket. “Cover up. Pull your hair back. Enjoy the ride.” Her heart melted into a clichéd pile of goo as the weight of his expensive tie, relinquished for scrunchie-like purposes, settled in her palm before he pulled away and headed in the direction of the beach.


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Tying her hair back, she turned to study him. Powerful and confident, relaxed and at peace, a smile danced on the edges of his lips. Wind rushed through his hair, passing Christmas lights and the moonlight kissed his skin. “You’ve changed.” “So have you.” Before, he’d been protective about his clothes. Cautious to the point he’d always folded his tie and jacket when removing them. And he’d never rolled his sleeves. Only after he’d changed into jeans or shorts had he relaxed. Now, still in his suit, he was more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. “A few rough months will do that to a girl.” Rough. There’s an understatement. “Make you more serious? Dark?” he asked. “And you more carefree?” she countered. A brightly lit fairground with a circling Ferris wheel loomed in the distance, growing larger each mile. Anxious with anticipation, her belly rose and fell, rose and fell and before long its circling and turning had synchronized with the wheel of happiness and fear. Happiness because the crowds drawn in by the bright lights were most often smiling. Laughing. Fear because crowds were unpredictable. A melting pot of predators watching for dropped guards. Dangerous. The circling lights blurred. “It’s about finding the balance.” “What?” She blinked free of the thoughts with bad memories trailing close behind. “Life is scary. There are good times and bad. Easy and hard. We need to find a balance which allows us to enjoy the experiences.” He took her hand, linking their fingers as he gripped the gearshift using their hands as a unit. “I learned that from you, Lori.”

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“How?” Their time together always revolved around work, with a little sex tossed in. They’d had a few intimate talks, though necessity of her life had kept her holding back. How could he have learned any life lessons from her? Trevor pulled into the fairground parking lot and found a free space. Lori’s gaze ping-ponged between Trevor and the Ferris wheel, the Ferris wheel and Trevor. Her stomach somersaulted. The shouts and screams of the crowds, the scents of greasy food, the clinging and clanging games and rides, Christmas carols blasting through static filled speakers blended into a cacophony of racket that danced dreadfully on the air closer and closer. Her turning belly raced end over end. Her heart clamored. Her eyes heated. She tugged at her hand but Trevor held firm. “We had a regrettable ending before, Lori.” “Is that what you call me almost getting you killed?” Trapped without escape between the rock of Trevor’s determination and the hard place of a carnival she wasn’t sure she could face, though she knew she should, Lori squeezed her eyes tight and willed the earth to consume her. It didn’t. The noises rose and moved closer. Her heartbeat sped. Then Trevor’s palm came to rest on her neck. Warm and settling like when he walked alongside her with his hand on her back the connection grounded her. The pulse points in her body still throbbed, but her ears cooled a degree or two. “The only part of my accident I hold you responsible for, Lori, is the prevention of it being worse. I understand your need to hold things back, but almost having everything taken away, losing you, reminded me of the importance of pleasure. I only want to give you back what you’ve given me. I want to see you happy.” His tone drifted with delicious sincerity on the air and soothed her. The terrifying edge of the noises receded. When she dared to open her eyes, scared to


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discover she’d read him wrong, she found an answering sincerity. She just wasn’t sure she knew how to be happy. Or if she deserved it. The parking lot of a fairground was not the place to face the past or reveal herself to Trevor, but the time for avoidance to end had arrived. “I wish I could explain everything to you as much as I wish I could accept what you’re offering.” It was another burst of unexpected truth. Rather than giving platitudes or trying to coax free explanations, two moves she fully expected, he released her with a slow nod. Easily and unhurried, he went through the motions of closing up the car. Then he got out. Sequestered in silence, Lori stared ahead. Her heart sped again with the unknown. What’s he going to do? She lifted a shaking hand to the door but before she could engage the locks, Trevor pulled the door open and extended a hand. “Don’t try hiding from me.” “I’m not going in there.” She crossed her arms and continued to stare ahead. Maybe if she acted mutinous enough he would change his mind about wanting to spend the evening with her because not going into the fairground was certainly her preference. “It’s a fun place. Stop being petulant.” He untangled her arms and pulled her out. He handled her gently, but his unwillingness to argue was clear. “I have…issues with this place.” “Noted.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her close. “I don’t like crowds.” Not since she’d tried to hide in one at this fairground. “Okay.” He led her away from the crowds and noises, away from the carnival and toward the moonlit beach. His hand drifted to the small of her back. “While being alone with you is a risk it’s one I’m willing to take.”

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“I have work I should be doing.” Where were these arguments earlier when she could have avoided the inevitable possibilities of this night? Why had she left her office? “Me too. It’ll be there later.” Relaxation should get easier as they moved away from the noise of the crowd. Oddly, the quiet was worse. It held more mysteries. The heat which had receded from her ears returned, spread down her neck, over her cheeks. All the training she’d had, every piece of advice on how to effectively lie, the practice of mastering her bodily reactions like not reacting to the being-watcheditchy-skin sensations… They all vanished leaving her as unprepared and unarmed as any civilian woman in the arms of an amorous lover. “Trevor…” She rolled her shoulders but the tough to reach spot between the blades continued to itch. It wasn’t the you’re-being-watched kind of sensation so much as a he-knows-your-secrets type. She hated both. “Lori.” “Why are you pursuing me?” she interrupted. “Why can’t you see how wrong I am for you?” He shrugged. “There is a better woman out there for you.” A quiver of jealousy threatened her composure, but she squashed it. “A woman who would love to go to carnivals with you.” One who isn’t a freshly peeled walking wound. “Sure.” He paused at the beach’s edge and toed off his shoes. His stare locked on her as he raised one foot and then the other to remove his socks and roll up his slacks. “You leaving those shoes on?” he asked with a glance at her heels. “I’m not walking on the beach with you. Besides, it’s cold.”


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“Okay.” He shrugged and began walking. “I’ll give you a ride home when I get back.” Again he didn’t argue or try to win her over. Damn, but he seemed perfectly content to leave her there. Alone. In the dark. She looked toward the car, now unseen. Toward the fairground, the cacophony of noise once again rising. Toward Trevor’s retreating back. Toward the dark path leading to a place bright enough to call a cab—not that she had her wallet or any cash. She’d apparently forgotten all her training. By the time she’d decided and shed her shoes, she had to run to catch up with him. “You have a strange way of treating the woman you claim to want to marry.” He shrugged again. “You bring me out here and then leave me.” “I brought you for a fun time at a carnival. You said you didn’t do that scene well.” “I don’t.” Lori found herself fisting her hand despite his apparent serenity. There was no way he could be as relaxed as he pretended. “Why not? You used to be lighthearted, ready for fun.” “I was taken…” She bit her tongue, surprised again at how easily she spilled truths to him. “From that theme park?” He spoke so quietly she felt rather than heard the question. His hand came to rest at her back. “I know you were taken hostage.” “What else do you know? What else did Breck tell you?” Clearly more than she’d thought. “That you were in bad shape when they found you, you needed time to recover, and you testified against the people you should’ve been able to trust.”

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His sympathetic tone, as if he felt sorry for or pitied her grated. She stiffened her spine and knew her voice would be hard. “Those people betrayed me. They lied to me, used me to kill men, then tried to kill me.” She had fallen for their claims, believed she was working for the government. She’d been a pawn in corruption. “You couldn’t have saved Channing.” Trevor stopped walking and turned to face her directly. “But you did save me.” “Not without landing you in the hospital broken and comatose. Those Channing left behind still grieve.” She still grieved. Channing Harris, a brilliant researcher and man with high morals, had become a friend. “That’s not going to change. Yet my involuntary attempt to kill myself led to an FBI undercover operation, which resulted in the arrest of everyone involved. It resulted in your freedom.” “You have some chatty sources.” A half-expected reality given the close friendship between Trevor and Breck. “Not chatty enough.” “You knew about my captivity.” “Because Breck grew tired of watching me hunt for you.” A shadow crossed Trevor’s face. “Not that his information helped.” His hands held her arms, warm and solid, saying he’d be there as long as she wanted. His unspoken constancy, his willingness to forgive her anything and his complete lack of judgment wriggled into a corner of her brain and heart and soul. Part of her canted toward the glowing warmth of the sentiments. The controlled part she’d listened to for years—and especially needed to mind now— pulled her away from sentimentality and entanglements. Pulled her away from Trevor.


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“I can’t handle what you ask of me. It’s too much. It’s too fast.” She stepped back, breaking his hold, and hugged herself. Trevor’s shadowed face darkened and his shoulders dropped. “I haven’t hidden my hopes or feelings, but I don’t recall having asked for anything.” Defensiveness crept along his tone, almost unnoticeable, but not entirely. “You ask even without words.” She turned away and walked along the surf. The chill gripping her bones wasn’t entirely due to the December night air. He followed. “What am I asking of you?” “As if you don’t know!” She sounded hysterical, her voice pitched so high she hurt even her ears. “Every look, gesture, gift, email, hell even your silent absence pressures me.” Trevor chuckled once. “And here I’ve been working to not push.” “Go ahead. Get your jollies.” “I’m not going to lie to you, Lori.” His hand rested against her back while he walked alongside. “I enjoy knowing you’re affected by me.” “Egotistical jerk.” “Just male.” The pads of his fingers flexed against her, pressing and easing. Her back heated and radiated comfort she didn’t understand or deserve. She’d cost men their lives even before Channing. With as close as Trevor had been to dying… Forgiveness was too high a reach. “You aren’t just anything.” “I am. I’m also just a man concerned for the woman he loves.” “Well stop it.” “Being concerned or loving you?” “Pick one.”

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“Can’t. So why don’t you try talking to me instead of hoping for things you’ll never get?” “Talk about what?” A fist of fear gripped her throat, tightened with a thickening of tears until she hardly recognized her own voice. The debate burning in her brain centered over her real fear. Was it that he couldn’t really forgive her or that he could and would love her anyway? The latter meant she held all the hang-ups. “About your captivity. How were you caught? What made you run after my…?” “Hypnotic trance-induced suicide attempt?” “Yeah.” He smiled a little ruefully. “I’d like to know more than Breck shared. Why you can’t release your guilt when you weren’t the cause.” Lori dropped to the sand, wrapped her arms tight around her knees and stared across the rolling waves. Maybe telling him some of what had happened would get him to step back and give her breathing room. She doubted it. Maybe he’d decide she wasn’t right for him. She hoped not. Either way, he deserved to know he hadn’t suffered alone. “Gullible, with no one of importance left in my life besides Misty, and she was going to school across the country, I was recruited in college by a branch of the government, or so they led me to believe. Whitestone turned out to be a private firm filled with corrupt people whose moral compass was more than a little warped.” Trevor said nothing as he sat beside her, not attempting contact, as if he knew she wanted none. “My missions in the beginning were standard enough assignments. Information retrieval, ops support. Between assignments I was constantly being


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trained. Hand-to-hand combat, firearms, seduction, history, pop culture, politics.” They’d covered it all, turning her into a female chameleon as adept at saving herself as MacGyver. Well, except that last time. “Each mission became more dangerous with less intel being shared.” And each one had chipped away another piece of her spirit as she’d sunk to the bellyslithering levels of Whitestone. “By the time I was assigned to Madame V and Elegant Entertainment I had learned my intel was being used to kill innocent people. I wanted out.” She gnawed on her lip, weighing the wisdom of continuing. “You made me believe escape was possible.” “Lori.” She waved him off to keep from getting sidetracked or grasping at an excuse to stop. She started. She had to finish. “That last night… I didn’t know I’d been turned into a weapon, how vulnerable I’d made you.” “But you figured it out.” “When I got back to the mansion I overheard Madame V talking about you and some contract.” The chilling dread from those eavesdropping, eye-popping moments flooded her again. “She laughed about how you’d been maneuvered more easily than Channing and how you’d have signed the papers and killed yourself within the hour.” “And you rushed back for me.” “I regret a lot of things. I never risked myself personally.” Had never seen anything worth fighting for. “The idea of you…” “You stopped me.” Trevor scooted nearer and circled her waist, pulling her tight to his side. “I’m still wondering why you ran.” “Madame V heard me as I left the mansion. She had me followed and when I yelled for you—”

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“They went after you.” “And followed me to that carnival—” she pointed toward the Ferris wheel, “—where I’d hoped to get lost in the crowd. Instead, they used my distraction, my worry over you, against me.” The distraction of wondering if she’d successfully stopped Trevor because she hadn’t had time to see if he’d stopped before walking into traffic. She’d only heard squealing tires. “When I woke, I was in a dark room. No more than a closet.” She shook her head to knock back the emerging memories. She’d finally reached a point where she controlled them, but talking it out diminished her power. “I’m not sure how long they held me, or even what they did to me. Some of it.” She gripped her head as remembered agonies ripped free. “It doesn’t matter now.” Trevor kissed her temple and sat with her for a long time. Neither spoke or moved beyond the beats of their hearts and the blinks of their eyes. Finally, Trevor stood and hauled her to her feet. “You’re free and while your work at the store is an understandable refuge it’s time to face one of your lingering fears.” With his palm flat at the base of her back, telling herself to argue, Lori walked with him toward the carnival.


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Chapter Nine

Around and around, with Lori pinned close to his side, the Ferris wheel circled. Around and around, wondering how long he’d wait until she accepted him openly, his thoughts circled. Around and around, fighting for victorious dominance, his desires to give her time and seduce her circled. As concerned as Lori had been about the crowds, she’d only tensed up a few times. Once, near the house of mirrors, around the corner from the Ferris wheel, she’d stumbled to a stop. Staring and shaking, pulling against his unbreakable hold, and gasping in wheezy, sawing breaths, she’d battled back whatever darkness had groped for her until she’d finally been able to walk on. “You’re awful quiet for a man claiming to have come here for a good time.” “Just thinking about the babe in my arms.” He tucked her head beneath his chin as they passed the ride operator again. “She must inspire morosity then.” “Never.” Though she certainly wasn’t happy. “Says the man weighted down with seriousness.” No one said honesty was easy or lightweight. “If my thoughts took a depressing turn it was only momentary and to be expected given some of what we’ve been through.” Especially when he thought of the atrocities he’d been told she’d suffered. Atrocities she hadn’t spoken of but that had obviously changed her.

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“You’re right.” He nuzzled her, inhaled her lavender and mint scent enhanced by the fresh air at the top of the Ferris wheel. “Beautiful view. Gorgeous woman. I must work on my priorities.” “Do, because you’re a little depressing.” Faster than a breaker flipping, her tone lightened. “Let me correct that.” Giving her no chance to argue or prepare he turned her head and claimed her mouth. “Mmm.” She melted. Opened. Their tongues danced, advancing and retreating, leading and following, as the world rocked and rolled. She likely still had reservations, but they no longer ruled her. She rubbed against him, purring low. His cock swelled, ready, eager for another night buried deep. Lori swung a leg over his, enticing him to explore her more intimately, and drove thoughts of propriety backward in his mind. He flattened a palm on her thigh, kneading the lean muscles, easily imagining them wrapped around his waist or thrown over his shoulders. With his other hand he pulled her flush to him and delved deeper into her mouth. Tension amassed at the base of his spine, slowly spreading in an outward radiation, gripping and squeezing, tighter and tighter. He massaged her thigh and back. She thrust her tongue against his. The bucket rocked. The gruff and knowing chuckle of the operator reminded Trevor where they were. The reminder, though, did nothing to cool him off. “We can’t stay here,” he mumbled against her lips. “Mmm-hmm.”


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The wheel stopped as the bucket in front of them emptied. “Let’s go to my place.” “Okay.” Her slurred agreement carried him back to the one full night they’d spent together. When she grew tired or became hyper-aroused her words bumped drunkenly into one another. The ride operator released the safety bar with a grin. “Have a great night.” Trevor grinned in return and lifted her leg off his. “Plan to.” He kept Lori close on the way to his car. The scents of the park grew richer. The cacophony of carols and games blended into a melodious tune intended for seduction. Desire danced down his spine and as badly as he wanted to take her back to his home—not the apartment attached to his office but the beach house where he spent weekends—it was too far away. Hell, even the elevator ride up to his work apartment would take too long. At the car, he went to open her door but instead pinned her between him and the door. Wanton, freer than he’d ever seen her, Lori rolled her hips, rubbing her heated crotch against the erection shoving at his zipper. His fingers dug into her hips, pressing until they were whitened tips. He nibbled her lobe. “I want to taste you, Lori.” “Okay.” She bit his neck lightly. “I want to strip you naked and feast on you.” “Sounds delightful.” She slipped her fingers into the waist of his pants. His dick strained closer to her seeking fingers, but no contact was made. “I want to spend every night for the rest of our lives loving you.” “Sounds tempting.” “Good.” Calling on the last of his restraint, he released her to open the door for her. Once she’d slipped into the seat and reached for the seatbelt he rounded

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the rear, using the time to calm his system. His heart slowed three beats a minute if he was lucky. Then he slid into the small space beside Lori. The aroma of her scent tantalized. No. He wasn’t going to make it to the house or his office apartment. “Where’s your place?” He started the car, giving notice to the rumble of power only because it echoed the hum inside him. “Past the office” She turned in her seat with her left arm outstretched and resting at his neck. “But my roommate is there.” Her slender fingers slid into and out of his hair while the fingers of her right hand popped a button loose and fiddled with the hole. In and out. In and out. Her touch on his neck. The slide of her pinky through the button hole. In and out. In and out. “Damn.” “We could be at the office in ten and go through the back of the shop.” In and out. In and out. His blood revved. His foot pressed the gas pedal down. His mouth went dry. His balls tightened. He didn’t even have her naked and she had him ready to launch. Pressing the pedal lower, he swung the car toward their offices and cursed the remaining two blocks. “Get your keys ready.” Her pinky tangled in her shirt, ripping it open so the next button popped. Her lace-clad breast winked at him as she dug in her pocket for the key. A line from a romantic comedy he’d seen snapped into his brain. Hello. Put me in your mouth. I taste good. He twisted the steering wheel in a tight grip. Lori arched her hips off the seat to dig deeper in her pocket. His cock bellowed that he pull over, bury himself in her, claim her. Damn he wanted to.


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He shook his head roughly, hoping to straighten himself out, and slowed enough to pull into the garage and park. She didn’t wait for him to turn the car off before she was out and headed toward the back entrance into her warehouse. He caught up to her as she pulled the door open and wasted zero time closing them inside. With rushing fingers, she tugged and pulled at his clothes, busting a few buttons loose as she pushed his shirt off and to the floor. “We should slow down.” She should be savored. “We’ll slow down next time.” She shoved at his trousers, panting heavily. “And the time after that.” Sweet hell. She intended there to be next times. He’d obsess later over how many.

They stumbled free of their pants and shoes, slowing a tumble to the floor with some shaky grabs at a nearby work table. Fabrics and drawings fell into heaps. They may well be ruined by the time she finished with Trevor, but she only cared that they provided cushioning on the hardwood floor. “Inside. I want you inside.” She clutched at Trevor’s hips and arched into him. Her ears rang beneath the heated rush of raging blood. The tenderness and patience from their last time was gone. In their place raged lustful hunger and a desperation for satiation. Their first time had been a mad dash to the finish line. It had actually been their most common approach. She loved the madness as much as the tenderness. She especially loved that tonight hadn’t settled on the tender side. Whether it had been opening up on the beach, remembering how to relax in crowds, or feeling the thrill of his passion on the Ferris wheel, Trevor had

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cracked the shell she’d been hiding behind and she desperately wanted to feel alive. Crazed. He nuzzled his nose at her neck and thrust. Filling her, rubbing her clit as he thrust and withdrew, thrust and withdrew, he took her soaring to skin tingling heights. She arched off the floor with a scream gurgling in her throat. He thrust again. Her heart hammered. Her face flamed. “Trevor.” His name sounded more like a groan as she strained toward the building orgasm. “Lori.” He withdrew. Hovered. “I want you to enjoy this.” “I am.” She clawed at him. “I want more of this. More of you.” “Me too.” Arching up again, she tried to take him back in but he moved back with her. “Not just sex, Lori.” “I know.” She would agree to anything he asked if it would mean another thrust into her, because another thrust would mean an orgasm. “Please, Trevor.” With an answering grunt he drove his hips forward and filled her. Her inner walls quaked and quivered. He responded with short pumps, bumping her gspot over and over until her eyes rolled back and she screamed. His answering bellow joined hers as he followed her over the ledge where the scent and sight and sound fused into a mass of feeling which fluttered deep inside even after the orgasm eased and they settled together on the satin. He’d reminded her who she was, of the self she’d locked away for the sake of professional survival. The self she’d known briefly before Whitestone. The self she didn’t want to lose again.


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He’d freed her. “You’re very thoughtful…” He propped himself on an elbow and twined a lock of her hair around his finger. “Is that a bad thing?” “Maybe.” He kissed her softly. “Unless you’re thinking of anything other than how you want to spend the next hundred years or so with me.” “Definitely not that long.” “Then how long? Be specific.” Though his tone and touch remained casually relaxed, his mood spoke of seriousness. He’d already laid his intention of marrying her out there. Hell, he’d laid it on a brightly lit light table so she had no way of missing it. A part of her, a big part, clamored that she accept him. The idea was so tempting and decadent and rich, the words trembled so near the edge of her tongue she feared they’d spill over. Hundreds and hundreds of years. Through this life and all to come. “Lori.” He rolled to his back, taking her and the satin fabric caught between her back and his hand with them. “I’m not letting you go.” “I’m not asking you to.” “But?” “I can’t give you what you want. I can’t marry you, Trevor.” The seriousness of his mood poured onto his face and into his gaze. He stared for silent seconds. Then silent minutes. He stared until her skin began shrinking and her heart trembled, afraid he would take her rejection and walk away. Not being ready for marriage didn’t mean she didn’t want a relationship with him. Neither did she know how to explain herself in a way he could, would, accept.

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“Do you have any plans for—” Her chest ached. Whatever he was about to ask she wasn’t sure she was ready for it. “—the next week?” A week? That she could handle. “No.” “Spend it with me. Wake up with me every morning. Go to sleep with me every night.” “Okay.” It was an easy thing to agree to, as it was something she’d never stopped wanting regardless of how she’d thought she shouldn’t. Apparently satisfied with her answer, he fell into a long silence. When he spoke again, a vulnerability she’d never have expected vibrated his voice. “Is there a chance, even a small one…? Do you think you might change your mind one day?” He was grasping for a sliver of hope and she found herself eager to appease him. “There’s a chance.” She rubbed his side, just above his hip and smiled. “I’m not ready to get married. I still have things to learn about myself. But I don’t want to lose you.” “You’re asking for a full-on assault, Lori.” The hope he’d been losing grip of buoyed and danced in his eyes with schemes of mischief. “I’m strong.” “Me too. I’m going to convince you to marry me.” He tugged at the satin and nearby tulle and pulled them over her. “And when I do, you’re going to make your dress from this fabric.” She laughed and rolled her eyes. She didn’t say as much, but the idea was a delicious one.


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“And after I’ve married you and danced with you, thinking about this night all the while, I’m going to get you alone, strip you of your dress and make love to you again on this bed of satin.” “Mmm.” She kissed his neck, already looking forward to the night he described. “You talk pretty.” “I’ll show you pretty.” With laughter rumbling his chest, he rolled her over and kissed her long and deep until the laughter turned to naked emotion and she felt his feelings as deeply as her own. “I love you, Lori.” “I love you, Trevor.” “Christmas is a few days away.” “I seem to remember something about that.” Though it kept slipping her mind when she buried herself in work. “I want to take you to my parents’ for Christmas. I want them to meet the woman who killed my streak of carefree relationships.” “Umm.” “My mother in particular is going to love you.” She licked her lips. “Breck will be there with his new fiancée.” “Actually, that doesn’t make it easier for me.” She wasn’t sure she was ready for his family scene, especially with Breck there to remind her of her past, but for Trevor… “Okay.” It may not be long before she was ready to accept his proposal, but in the meantime she would enjoy his promised assault.

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About the Author

Heart stopping puppy chases, childhood melodrama and the aborted hangings of innocent toys are all in a day’s work for Nikki Duncan. This athletic equestrian turned reluctant homemaker turned daring author, is drawn to the siren song of a fresh storyline. Nikki plots murder and mayhem over breakfast, scandalous exposés at lunch and the sensual turn of phrase after dinner. Nevertheless, it is the pleasurable excitement and anticipation of unraveling her character’s motivation that drives her to write long past the witching hour. The only anxiety and apprehension haunting this author comes from pondering the mysterious outcome of her latest twist. More can be found out about Nikki at her website www.NikkiDuncan.com. Nikki is also on Twitter www.twitter.com/nduncanwriter and Facebook at www.facebook.com/nduncanwriter.

Look for these titles by Nikki Duncan

Now Available: Sensory Ops Sounds to Die By Scent of Persuasion

Coming Soon: Sensory Ops Illicit Intuitions

Between her eyes and his ears, there’s a world of sensory overload…

Sounds to Die By © 2009 Nikki Duncan

Sensory Ops, Book 1 Rookie FBI Agent Kieralyn Beckett is in a delicate position. Her team refuses to buy into her theory that a string of kidnappings is connected. If she pushes too hard, they’ll discover the latest victim was her college roommate and boot her off the case. A garbled recording is the only evidence, and there’s only one man who can decipher it. The hard part will be convincing him to take the case. Blinded as a child, NSA “listener” Ian Cabrera spends the majority of his time analyzing data while secretly searching for his father, a missing CIA operative. His plate is full, but Kieralyn’s passion and determination, as well as the erotic beat of her heart, spark his interest. So does the mention of his father’s code name on her recording. There’s only one way to follow this new crumb-trail of clues without tipping her off about what he’s really after. Convince her she needs him to be her undercover partner, despite his handicap. Between her eyes and his ears, they make one beautifully orchestrated team. Every time they touch, though, the arousal they generate creates one red-hot element of distraction… Warning: This title contains a blind hero who knows his way around a woman’s body, steamy kitchen sex, verbal sparring, kidnapping evasions, fiery near-death experiences, and heart-pounding sensory overload. Enjoy the following excerpt for Sounds to Die By: Time was running out. Every minute of the clock on the sea blue wall ticked with a spine-tingling intensity. Returning to the office empty handed, losing that

stupid bet, and proving to her unit that she didn’t belong with them was not an option. She’d already tried a power play and failed—you had to have power to pull them off. It was worse since the guys on her team were too set in their ways. Like Ian Cabrera and the security guard—Dante, according to the sign on his desk—blocking the way to the inner sanctum of his lab. Dante’s militant bearing might intimidate some—likely anyone who came into contact with him—but she was here. She was determined. They wouldn’t block her forever. She would use any tool at her disposal to see Cabrera. “Dante.” If flattery didn’t work, she’d wait him out. “Please call him and ask.” “You’ve heard his answer.” “Not in person.” Cabrera’s refusal to help, passed through Dante and paperwork stamped Reject, had every man in her unit goading her. “I’m sorry, Agent Beckett. It is policy that all requests be submitted in writing. He is not to be disturbed.” Her jaw clenched painfully. She drew on the patience she’d worked so hard to maintain since starting her job a year ago and bit back her instinctive smartass reply. If working in the FBI Specialized Crimes Unit had taught her one thing it was how policies worked. And how they had to be manipulated in certain cases. “I submitted the paperwork.” “To which he responded.” “I understand that Mr. Cabrera doesn’t see anyone without an appointment.” Desperate not to fail, Kieralyn ignored the internal feminist that insisted on women’s equality and pulled out the big guns. Affecting her sweetest smile, she leaned forward on the granite-topped cedar desk and hoped her charm worked on Dante. His pupils flared. His dark gaze shifted briefly to the V of her sweater.

“It’s a matter of life or death for at least six women.” “Every case is life and death.” He shook his head sadly. “You have his answer, Agent Beckett.” “Dante.” Beginning to feel desperate, she reached down and grasped his hand. When he met her gaze, she creased her forehead in concerned interest. “Do you have a family? A wife? A daughter? A sister?” His eyes narrowed. His head cocked to the side. “Yeees.” He may be suspicious of her, but she had his attention. “If they went missing, wouldn’t you do something? Something possibly against regulations, but that you knew to be right? Something that could mean getting them back?” He hesitated. His dark eyes and chocolate-skinned face softened. Yes! She mentally pumped her fist in the air. She was close. “Mr. Cabrera is very particular about not being interrupted.” “It’s just a phone call, Dante.” She squeezed his hand and shifted a little closer. Intimacy, flirting, whatever. She wasn’t afraid to use her femininity for the greater good, which in this case meant finding kidnap victims and stopping others from being taken. It meant doing whatever was necessary to help Lana, even if her use of guile was one reason her teammates gave her a hard time. Some situations didn’t allow for pride. “I would really appreciate it. The women I’m trying to help could be depending on his expertise.” “He is not going to like this, and that argument will not work with him.” He picked up the phone and an instant later was speaking quietly. “Sorry to interrupt you. Yes, I know. There’s an… So you’ve said.” He cleared his throat. “There’s an FBI agent here. She insists on seeing you.”

Half the battle won, Kieralyn stepped away and surveyed the plush lobby complete with a flat-screen plasma on one wall for entertainment and deep chairs that would offer hours of comfort. Did they really have so many visitors to this small building, set apart from the others in the NSA business plaza, that they needed such luxury? Or did people have to wait that long to be seen? Tension pinched between her shoulder blades. She would see Ian Cabrera. He was the only person who could prove her right. Or wrong, as her unit insisted. If they were right, if she’d manufactured the theory for personal reasons, if her theory was entirely off-base it would be one more arrow in the target on her back. If they were wrong, she just might win a little respect. Finally. “Yes, I told her… She is.” Dante frowned and bowed his head slightly. “She insists… I will let her know.” She gripped the handle of her bag in her fist and bit back her anxiety long enough for Dante to return the phone to its cradle. Standing a few feet away, her stomach lurched as if she’d just jumped from a plane with no parachute. She swallowed the fear of failure bubbling in her throat. “What did he say?” He had to say yes. Just had to. Otherwise, she would be reduced to … Well, she wasn’t sure what she’d be reduced to in her mission for answers. “You have one chance to convince him.” The tightness eased between her shoulders. She was certain she could convince Cabrera to listen to her recording. “Thank you, Dante. Thank you so much.” “He is not pleased.” Dante moved around the desk and headed toward the hall. “I may not have done you any favors.”

“He’s not going to come down on you for this, is he?” She might have considered it earlier, but she’d been too focused on her end goal. On her need for answers. For resolution. Those needs still outweighed any sense of guilt. “On me, no.” He led her around a corner and keyed in a code on the keypad by the second of two doors. Possibilities and answers waited on the other side, closer than she’d expected to get. Cabrera could dish out whatever he wanted. She’d take it. She’d formed a thick skin thanks to her teammates. Good guys beneath gruff surfaces, they were set in their ways and entertained archaic ideas about where women belonged. She couldn’t change everyone’s opinion. Only one mattered at this moment.

In racing, you’re in or you’re out. Sometimes both at the same time…

Burning Rubber

© 2011 Pamela Britton Extreme Racing, Book 2 Go ahead, call Callie Monroe the queen of fools. She already does. After NASCAR slammed its doors in her face, she came up with the idea for the XTREME Racing League. Now she’s all but relegated to pit row while her business partner—aka XRL’s bankroll—takes the credit. One look at NASCAR champion Derrick Derringer red-lines Callie’s fantasy gauge. And when he actually notices her next to her Playboy-hot boss, he makes her sweat. Derrick has always been attracted to the studious type, but Callie’s got the cherry on top of her beauty and brains: she’s a gear head. She’s also scared to death of him. He’s never had to work hard to get a woman in his bed, but with Callie, he finds himself changing tactics for a prize he never expected. Her heart. Callie has no intention of being Derrick’s next “checkered flag”, but if she’s to lure him over to XRL, she’ll play the game. A dangerous one. Not only because his kiss sends her focus sliding out of control. There’s a saboteur who seems intent on putting XRL into the wall—no matter how many people have to die. Warning: The author doesn’t guarantee this book will help you “get lucky”, but does have documented proof that the love, laughter, naughtiness and hot, hot, hot sex in this book will leave you gasping for air. Dangerous curves ahead! Enjoy the following excerpt for Burning Rubber: It had to be a dream.

She couldn’t be lying on a bed, Derrick Derringer staring down at her, the remnants of his kiss still imprinted on her lips. “What’s going on?” she heard herself ask. He was blurry. “You fell asleep.” He drew far enough away she could see him. “I drove you to your hotel room.” There was something wrong with that scenario. She knew it, just as she knew she should be doing something right now—ordering him from her room, maybe. Yelling at him. About what? She didn’t know, she just knew something about this scene was all wrong, she was just too frickin’ tired to figure out what it was. And so, in the end, all she said was, “Oh.” “Go back to sleep.” She closed her eyes. Fingers stroked her forehead. She smiled. That felt good. Her mom used to do that to her when she was little. “Shhh.” Even though she knew she shouldn’t, she turned her head toward the hand, moaned softly. The fingers riffled through her hair. “Houston, we might have a problem,” she heard him murmur. “Hmm?” she asked, the darkness sucking her back down. “I promised myself I wouldn’t touch you, and yet here I am.” “Feels good,” she slurred, rolling onto her side. Why were her shoes still on? She shouldn’t be in bed with her shoes. She kicked them off. “Don’t do that.” “Wha—?” she mumbled. “Get undressed.” “Oh.”

Something touched her nose. A kiss. She was certain of it, and since this was a dream, she turned her head, waited. She sensed a whisper of a breath cross her cheek. It caused her to sigh, Callie decided this was the most delicious dream she’d ever had. So real. So lifelike. She didn’t want it to end. “I’m going to kiss you on the lips.” Her whole body leapt to life at the mere thought of it. Less than a heartbeat later, his lips lightly grazed her own and then, as if that wasn’t nearly enough for him, those lips came back again, this time pressing with an intensity that made her sigh in contentment. She opened her mouth, tired of waiting for him to take the initiative. His tongue touched hers. She wanted him. She wanted him bad. He slid onto the bed next to her. She liked that, actually turned in to him so they were belly to belly and, goodness, crotch to crotch. Any doubt he was attracted to her banished at the intimate touch. The bulge of his crotch sent a fission of electricity through her that made her whole body leap to life. She luxuriated in the feeling, embraced it, told Derrick without words she wanted more of him. He pulled his tongue away for a second. She wiggled against him, trying to entice him back. “You’re going to be the death of me,” she heard him say. She slid a hand beneath his shirt. He had taut abs, but she knew that, had seen him on a reality show once upon a time, knew he worked out. But to actually feel the hard contours of his muscles, to run her finger up the shallow valleys and the hard ridges. “Oh,” she breathed.

“Please tell me you’re awake.” He slid a hand beneath her shirt. The pads of his fingers grazed her abdomen, causing it to spasm. She wanted, oh how she wanted, for those fingers to glide higher, to slide underneath her bra, perhaps lift the tiny cups that covered her breasts so he could kiss her nipples. She arched into him again, rubbed her own fingers through the hair on his chest, trying to egg him on, and hoping he’d get the message. He did. She felt him shift, felt cool air hit her belly. Cool air? His lips touched her belly. She arched her hips. He nipped her flesh. It jolted her awake. It wasn’t a dream.

Tangled in Tulle

Tangled in Tulle

Tangled in Tulle

Tangled

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Tangled Up In Love

Tangled Up In Love

Tangled in Chains

Tangled in Chains

Tangled Up In Love

Tangled Up In Love

Tangled Up in You

Tangled Up in You

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Tangled Threads

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Tangled Web

Tangled Autumn

Tangled Sheets

Tangled Roots

Tangled Threads

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Tangled in Tulle

Tangled in Tulle

Tangled in Tulle

Tangled

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Tangled Up In Love

Tangled Up In Love

Tangled in Chains

Tangled in Chains

Tangled Up In Love

Tangled Up In Love

Tangled Up in You

Tangled Up in You

Tangled Up in You

Tangled Webs

Tangled Up

Tangled Tides

Tangled Threads

Tangled Webs

Tangled Web

Tangled Web

Tangled Autumn

Tangled Sheets

Tangled Roots

Tangled Threads

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