Tempting Trent

Tempting Trent Chloe Cole

Sequel to Naughty Godmother.

As far as Naughty Godmothers go, Mila is the cream of the crop. She’s never met a man she couldn’t seduce. When she sees emotionally wounded army Ranger Trent Beauford, she knows deep down she’s just the fairy to mend his broken heart and reawaken his dormant passion. The question is, will she be able to let him go once her job is done? Trent Beauford’s wife is dead and she’s not coming back. It’s been two years, and life without her is still hardly worth living. So when the sexiest woman he’s ever laid eyes on propositions him, he manages to say no…the first time. But his neglected libido can only stand so much. If he’s going to give in to the grinding need—and he is—he’s going to make it count.

Ellora’s Cave Publishing

www.ellorascave.com

Tempting Trent ISBN 9781419934216 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Tempting Trent Copyright © 2011 Chloe Cole Edited by Grace Bradley Cover art by Syneca Electronic book publication April 2011 The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing. With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502. Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

TEMPTING TRENT Chloe Cole

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Celtics: Celtics Limited Partnership Boston Celtics Corporation Chrysler: Chrysler Corporation

Chloe Cole

Chapter One “I need a favor,” Lucienne said, plucking at an auburn curl before resting her hand on the arm of her alabaster throne. “I have a…delicate situation with a new charge. One I would really like you to handle personally.” She seemed tentative, nervous even. A condition so out of character for the haughty Fairy Queen, it sent Mila’s shit-storm radar buzzing. “I’m flattered that you believe my skill worthy, Your Highness,” she replied. It had been over a year since she’d been out in the field. Her time of late had been spent training new fairies, so this request was out of the ordinary to say the least. She weighed her next words carefully. “May I ask what makes this assignment different than the others?” “You may. Rather than the typical charge who yearns for a mate but lacks the skill to obtain one, this charge does not want our help. In fact, he does not want a mate at all.” Mila flicked her gaze to the glass on the ornate table beside Lucienne. Maybe Her Highness was hitting the absinthe too hard again. “Then why—” Lucienne cut in, her reticence gone in a flash of annoyance. “Just because he doesn’t want our help, doesn’t mean he doesn’t need it.” True. And yet, the very process for selecting a charge was governed by want. If a potential charge was in her sector, a Naughty Godmother could feel him yearning and would be drawn to him. So if he wasn’t yearning, then who? Lucienne anticipated her question and let out an exasperated sigh. “His brother, if you must know. The charge’s name is Trent Beauford. He’s an Army Ranger specializing in search and rescue and hostage retrieval. His wife died two years ago and 6

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ever since, he’s unwilling to engage in another relationship. His brother Bryan fears Trent has lost the will to live. He takes reckless chances on missions that are far too dangerous because he has nothing to live for. He’s in the middle of a two-week leave right now, visiting his brother in their hometown. It was Bryan’s desperation that lured me. He yearns for a woman to reawaken the passion in Trent so that he’ll open his heart again.” She hurried on, as if the matter was already decided. “This is going to be difficult, therefore you’ll be given extra time to complete the task. Five days. A certain finesse will be required but I know with your vast experience and advanced level of magic, you can handle this one. And just as with a regular case, you don’t have to sleep with him. As long as he’s willing to open himself up to someone, it doesn’t need to be you.” All sounded perfectly logical. Except a part of it was notably absent. Why was Lucienne going so far out of her way to help this man in the first place? She didn’t give a rip about anyone but herself. Granted, she took running the whole fairy realm pretty seriously. And, granted, they did good work. But that wasn’t why she did it. It was pride and vanity that drove her. She wanted to leave a legacy. And while her lack of compassion made her a piss-poor Godmother, it really did help in her role as monarch. They couldn’t save the world, so she had difficult decisions to make all the time. It would have been near impossible to make those decisions if she had a conscience. In light of this well-known character flaw, it was more than a little strange for her to take a personal interest in a charge. So why now? And why him? Mila considered asking the questions, but thought better of it. She’d find out once the mission was under way. Besides, Lucienne’s reasons didn’t matter. Asking had been a mere formality. Mila would be expected to do as requested, regardless of her feelings on the subject. It was part of the whole fairy gig; obey the queen. People had tried to 7

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bow out of that clause in the past, but it wasn’t optional. You pledged your fealty, or you walked away. And walking away meant leaving your magic behind. Not going to happen, so back out in the field it was. At least temporarily. Resigned, Mila gestured to the scrying bowl that sat on a pedestal between them. “May I?” Lucienne gave a stiff nod. Mila took a step forward and peered into the shallow bowl of rippling water. She touched a finger to the sparkling surface, focusing her energy. Trent Beauford. A moment later an image shimmered into view. A shirtless man knelt on the floor of a large bedroom. His broad shoulders shook as he leaned forward to rest his head on clasped hands. He stayed that way for a long while as she stared, unable to look away. Then he straightened and with an enviable grace, rose to his feet. Mila drew in a sharp breath as she took in his erect form. He was huge, well over six feet tall. His abs were ripped to shreds. A large, black tribal tattoo started on his right side where his pectoral muscle ended, and covered the bottom half of his rib cage all the way down, disappearing into loose-fitting sweatpants. She willed herself to move away, to resume her conversation with Lucienne, but she was spellbound as he turned and gave her an unimpeded view of his back. Even with the jagged scar that ran from his shoulder blade across his spine to the opposite hip, his back was magnificent. He chose that moment to tip his face upward. A pair of tortured gray eyes seemed to lock onto hers and her heart skittered. In that second, she knew him. She knew his despair, his gut-wrenching regret, his furious helplessness. It was no fae magic, this. No, this was like recognizing like, and in the shadowed windows of his soul, she saw herself. He was broken somewhere deep down inside.

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Shattered. Just like her. Finally, mercifully, he turned away. Mila struggled to control her seething emotions as he padded to a door across the room. Something like panic gnawed at the edge of her consciousness, some defense mechanism setting off a riot of warnings screaming at her. Flee! Get out while you still can. SAY. NO. She sucked in a shallow breath, helpless to stop the words that tumbled from her lips. “When can I start?”

***** Forty-eight hours later Mila stood outside the door of O’Toole’s Tavern, freezing her ass off and questioning her sanity. Why hadn’t she at least tried to talk Lucienne out of this? She’d done her time on the front lines. This was a job for the young. Sure, there was a sense of accomplishment when she helped someone change for the better, become more confident and maybe even find love. But at thirty, most of her idealism had faded. People, as a species, were pretty shitty, and she’d had enough. She’d only continued as long as she had because she was a fairy and hadn’t known how to be anything else. Training the young, optimistic newbies of the magical world was a far better fit for her, and one she hoped to make permanent ASAP. But not until she figured out how to help a guy who wasn’t even receptive to the idea of being helped. It was going to be an uphill, awkward battle. An icy wind blew up her coat and she winced. It was time to buckle down and get the job done. The sooner she did, the sooner she could get back to her training facility and relative solitude. Straightening her spine, she stepped into the bar.

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The warm air stole over her, enveloping her in the yeasty smell of beer and the clean-oil aroma of freshly fried food. She glanced around the large open room, relaxing a little as she took in the scene. Not bad. There were only a few dozen people in the place, which was best-case scenario. She abhorred crowds, and the thought of being jammed in, yelling to be heard or fighting for a seat made her edgy. Striding toward the long, u-shaped bar, she felt the eyes on her but ignored them. It was part and parcel with the job. Fairies were attractive as a rule. And Naughty Godmothers? The cream of the crop. It was a matter of practicality, really. Their purpose was to help as many charges as they could. And a lonely man was much more inclined to believe that a magical being had come to turn him into a babe magnet and show him how to be a good lover when the declaration came from the lips of a beautiful woman. This time would be different, though. There would be no declaration or explanation from her, or even a contract with her charge. No, this time she was expected to deceive him. Mila tamped down the trickle of distaste that snaked up her spine at the thought. She hated liars. Not your call, she reminded herself. Besides, he would never sign the contract if she told him the truth, so she had no choice. She bit back a sigh and signaled the bartender. A white-haired man in his early fifties gave her a warm, open smile as he approached. Bright blue eyes twinkled appreciatively but without lechery. “Well hello there, lovely lass. Are ya lost, then?” She found her lips quirking in response. She wasn’t typically what one might call friendly, but something about the guileless face and the lilting brogue made him hard to resist. “If this is O’Toole’s Tavern, then I’m in the right place.”

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“Forgive me for asking. It’s just we don’t get many as pretty as you around here, darlin’. What’ll you have?” “Dirty martini, extra dry, four olives please.” As the puckish barman bustled off to mix her drink, she turned to face the rest of the room, scanning it for one Trent Beauford. Two waitresses dressed in cheery green button-downs looked happy to be there, flitting around tending to the patrons. Tables took up most of the space, an old-fashioned juke box hulked in one corner. In the center of the room there was a tiny dance floor. On the far wall, another wide doorway led into what looked like a game room. She could see a dart board from where she stood as well as a pinball machine. “Here you are, lass.” The Irishman set the glass down on the bar with a flourish. “Thanks. Can I start a tab? I might be here for a while.” “Sure thing. In fact, I have a feeling you might be good for business.”

***** “Eight ball, corner pocket.” Trent gestured to the hole in question with his cue, then bent low. Lining up the shot, he took two measured practice strokes before releasing. The ball made a satisfying snick as it hit its mark. “Whoo-ee boy, that was some fine shootin’,” Bryan crowed and let out a low whistle as he set down his own cue to execute a sarcastic, slow clap. “Whatever, wiseass. I’ll take a bourbon, neat.” “All right, all right. I’ll be a few, though. I gotta hit the head first then I want to check out the score on the game.” “You do that, but make it fast. Pool School will be back in session at nine o’clock sharp.” Bryan grumbled under his breath as he headed back into the main bar area to make good on their wager.

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Trent let the smile slip from his face once his brother left the room. He loved the bastard but the never-ending, full-court press to cheer him up was only on hiatus when he was trying to fix him up. It was exhausting. The harder Bryan pressed him to move on with his life, the more he realized that he didn’t want to do that. He couldn’t do that. His plans, his thoughts, his whole future had been tied up with Marisol’s, and when she died, she took it all with her. He picked up his glass and polished off the rest of his drink. Trent set down his glass then dropped some more quarters into the slot of the billiard table. Once the balls started rolling out, he popped a squat to start racking for a rematch when a husky voice called out. “Can I have next?” “Sure. My brother’s getting us a drink now, so we can pl—” The words died on his lips as he turned his head and encountered a damn near mile of shapely thigh not six inches from his face. The smell of lilacs hit him straight in the groin and he forced himself to breathe through his mouth. He stood up slowly, squeezing his eyes shut on the way to deny himself the rest of the view and didn’t allow himself to open them until he was standing straight. He looked down into the striking face of his challenger and tried not to flinch. She was beautiful. Painfully, cock-throbbingly beautiful. She was tall, five-ten maybe, but at six-three, he was still half a head taller. Black, glossy hair fell like a silk curtain around her face. Dark eyes framed by an impossible fringe of lashes met his, unflinchingly. Her full, unpainted mouth smiled up at him but the smile didn’t warm those unfathomable eyes even a little bit. “So we can play a quick one?” Trent took a reflexive step back and nodded. “Sure.”

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She slapped four quarters onto the side of the table. Who was she and what in god’s name was she doing at O’Tooles? It was mostly a neighborhood bar, especially at this hour, and he knew without a doubt that none of their neighbors looked like this woman. “Great. My name’s Mila.” She held out a hand. “Beauford. Trent Beauford.” He took her soft hand in his and was surprised by the firm shake. “Nice to meet you, Trent. You military?” “Yes ma’am.” He didn’t elaborate and she didn’t ask him to. “Is it that obvious?” “Well, if the hair wasn’t a dead giveaway, your enviable posture and the way you introduced yourself last name first would have tipped me off. Do you mind racking while I take my coat off and pick out a cue?” She didn’t wait for his answer as she went over to one of the small bar tables and set down her purse. He studiously avoided looking her way and focused on the balls in front of him. Stripe then solid, eight in the middle— “So, Trent, are you stationed nearby?” “No. I grew up here and come back to visit family when I’m on leave. I keep a house here as an investment property, and it gives me a place to come back to. You?” He made sure the rack was tight, lifted the triangle and slid it into its cubby under the table. Then he turned to face her. Her lips were moving, so he guessed she was responding to his question, but damn if he heard a word of it. The coat that had covered her from neck to thigh was now on the back of a chair and he was faced with the whole shebang. She was wearing what looked like some sort of oversized sweater. Surely not long enough to qualify as a dress, it skimmed over her body, only hinting at the sleek curves beneath, and hung precariously off one golden shoulder. Bare legs were capped with stilettos in the same

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color as the dress. He would have called it beige but Marisol would have laughed and corrected him, saying it was in fact nude, or café au lait, or some other— Marisol. Trent’s clamoring libido cooled instantly as the familiar ache in his gut pulled at him. Where the hell was Bryan with his drink? “So once I conclude my business here, I’ll head back,” his opponent finished with a tentative smile. “You okay?” “Yeah, sorry, just distracted for a second. You can break,” he offered. Typically, he would have given a lady a chance to win, but he had every intention of running the rack on her and getting out of Dodge, ASAP. He might choose to live his life like a monk, but he wasn’t a masochist. They’d play their little game and he’d head out to the main bar where it didn’t smell like lilacs and nobody’s thighs were on display. If she stuck around, he’d just head home and do the rest of his drinking there. No skin off his ass. She sauntered up to the table, pool stick in hand, and bent low. From his vantage point he could see about three inches of spectacular cleavage and came to the mindnumbing realization that she wasn’t wearing a bra. He pinched his eyes closed to block out the sight. Crack. When he opened them again, balls littered the table. It was a really good break, and she’d sunk two solids in the process. She reached an elegant hand toward the block of blue chalk then applied it to the tip of the cue with a deft twist. She took in the layout of the table with a practiced eye, walking first to one side then the other. He tried not to watch her, he really did, but she was like a magnet and

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he couldn’t tear himself away. She strode toward where he stood and he took a few steps away from the table to give her room. “Seven in the side,” she murmured, then bent at the waist, right in front of him, to execute her shot. If the view from the front had been amazing, the view from the back was mouthwatering. He bit back a groan as her dress rode high on her thighs, the material hugging an ass that wouldn’t quit. Don’t think about palming those cheeks, Beauford. Don’t think about gripping her hips and pinning her against that table and— “Hey, bro, who’s your friend?” Bryan stepped into the room with a drink in each hand and a goofy smile on his face. The maroon-colored ball slid neatly into the side pocket and Mila straightened. “Bryan, Mila. Mila, this is my brother Bryan.” He leveled a warning glare at his sibling and snagged his drink, taking a deep pull from it before continuing. “We were just going to play a quick game and then you and I can—” “Hey, by all means, don’t let me interrupt. Your godfather and I were in the middle of a heated debate about the Celtics’ new point guard and I cut it short because I thought you were waiting on me. Now that I see that you’re in good company, I’ll just head back to the bar and finish talking some sense into the old man.” Trent’s face burned as his brother gave him a broad wink and an eyebrow wriggle before hightailing it out of the room. Asshole. “Sorry about that. He thinks he’s funny, no matter how hard I try to convince him otherwise.” “It’s okay, he seems nice. Clearly he likes messing with you. So Seamus is your godfather? Five ball,” she said with a nod toward the far right pocket. “Yeah. My dad and him were best friends. You know him?”

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“Nope. Just met him when I got my drink. Seems like a sweet man.” She rushed the shot a little and the ball bobbled for a moment then hung on the edge. “Damn.” “Nice try. That pocket’s tough. Tighter than the others.” He paused for a long moment, his mind dragged into the gutter by his own words. Get a hold of yourself, man. It was long past time to end this silliness. He didn’t know what this girl was about, but she was far too distracting. “Fifteen in the side.” Snap. “Twelve, all the way down.” Snap. “Fourteen, right side.” I been really tryin’, baby Tryin’ to hold back these feelings For so long He miscued, not even hitting the intended ball as the silken voice of Marvin Gaye poured from the jukebox outside the archway where his brother stood grinning. Let’s get it on Ahhhh, babe, Let’s get it on-oh-on Fucking Bryan. A snort of laughter broke into his murderous thoughts and he shot an apologetic glance to Mila, who stood with a hand covering her mouth. At least she didn’t look mad. He wanted to get away from her, but he didn’t want to embarrass the woman or creep her out either. “I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say. My mother dropped him when he was small. A few times. Plus he’s a little out of it. He’s getting married next weekend and his bride-to-be is away for a few days with friends. He’s decided that this week will 16

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be his bachelor swan song so he’s dragging my ass all over town with him. Makes him feel like a rebel.” “It’s okay, really. It’s fine. I think it’s sweet that he’s trying to play Cupid. Not only that, he made you miss your shot, so really, he did me a favor.” Despite her letting him off the hook, he was still going to have to talk to Bryan. He was intentionally making an uncomfortable situation even less comfortable for him. Usually, he would cut him some slack. As stupid as it was, this was Bryan’s way of looking out for him. His brother was worried about his mental state. And he had every right to be, because his mental state was a mess and had been since Marisol’s death. Hell, even before that. Once she’d gotten sick, really sick, he’d ceased to be a rational, clear-thinking person. Sure, he tried to be strong, hold her up and keep her thinking positive thoughts. But in truth, even when the doctors told him she was going to die, he didn’t believe it. Wouldn’t accept it. He’d reassured her over and over, promising they would find a way to fix her. And that made him a liar and a failure. Because no matter how many second opinions they had gotten, no matter how many treatments they tried, she just kept getting sicker. Two years had passed since her death and for some reason Bryan was operating under the misguided notion that Marisol could be replaced by another woman and everything would be right as rain again. Like she’d never even been alive. Like Trent could just go on without her. Like her death didn’t change anything…everything. And that’s where he had it wrong. Marisol could never be replaced and the space in his chest that had once held his heart would remain empty. Because feeling just hurt too damn much.

“I’m going to try the five again.” Trent gave a curt nod but didn’t look up. Okay then. 17

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This was going to be a tough one. He was obviously attracted to her, but it was clear his attraction was nothing more than an unwanted nuisance to him. Almost like a reflex, the one thing he couldn’t just turn off with a little well-placed, military-grade discipline. She was unsure how to proceed, other than with a blatant seduction. Even then, she wasn’t sure it would work. Mila gave herself a mental shake. This was a first—a man she might not have the power to seduce. He must have really loved his wife to still feel that kind of loyalty, as misguided as it was. Surely if she loved him with the same passion, she would want him to allow himself to enjoy life again. He must know that, and still, after two years he hadn’t been swayed. A sort of grudging respect for her unwilling charge began to form and she squashed it down. She couldn’t let her feelings get in the way of her mission. And despite his admirable loyalty, his actions weren’t healthy. He needed a push to rejoin the living, and she was just the fairy to give it to him. Time to put the pedal to the metal. She shot the orange ball into the side pocket and continued to her next shot, making short work of the rest of the table. All that remained was the eight ball, but it was butted tight against the rail in a very difficult shot. Perfect. She made a show of eyeing it this way and that, before calling it, “Triple bank,” and indicating the corner pocket with her cue. “Yeah. Sure.” “Seriously. You don’t think I can?” “I guess it’s possible. Do I think it’s going to happen? No way.” “Well let’s make this interesting, a little wager then? If I miss, I buy you and your brother both a drink and give you back your table. I make it, you have to dance with me and then we play one more time.”

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“I don’t dance.” “Oh, come on, what are you afraid of? I’m not looking for Fred Astaire. I just feel like dancing and don’t have anyone handy to do it with. One dance?” “It’s early yet for O’Toole’s. Wait an hour, the place will be a lot busier and there will be at least a dozen guys who would love to dance with you.” “I want to dance with you,” she said in a low voice. He met her eyes and held her gaze for a tense moment before looking away. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” She closed the space between them, stopping only a foot away and whispered, “Chicken.” His stormy eyes narrowed as he stared down at her. “You really think that’s going to work? Are you going to double-dog dare me next?” Close. “No, no. If you’re scared to get shown up by a woman, it’s cool. I just didn’t figure you for that type of guy.” He let out a long, impatient sigh. “Okay, fine. Let’s do it. I don’t even know why I said no in the first place. That’s like a thousand-to-one shot. Go for it.” Mila tried not to show her elation. It was a thousand-to-one shot. If she played fair. In this case, that wasn’t an option. She had a limited amount of time to get through to this guy and the sooner she got her hands on him, the better her chance of success. She bent low and lined up while visualizing the desired path of the ball. As she released her arm, she let the magic flow. The ball caromed off three rails, landing neatly into the pocket. “Holy shit.” Trent’s eyes were wide as he shook his head. “I can’t believe you made that.” “I had a feeling.” She gave him a broad grin and laid the cue on the table then held out a hand. “Ready to pay up, soldier?”

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He nodded and hesitated, then took the proffered hand. His was so big and strong, it dwarfed hers and she resisted the urge to squeeze. She pulled him to the juke box to make a selection. The last strains of a second Marvin Gaye song rang out and she smothered a laugh. Sexual Healing. Bryan was nothing if not persistent. “What kind of music do you like?” she asked. The place had started to fill out a bit already and the quiet atmosphere was changing fast. She needed to get him to someplace where they could be alone. Dance first and then work on a plan to get him out of there. “I like all types of music, I don’t discriminate.” “Okay, then I’ll pick.” She browsed the selections and chose one of her favorites, then pulled him onto the tiny dance floor. He put both hands high on her waist and made sure he was a full foot and a half from her body as they began to sway. She swallowed back a laugh as she wrapped her arms loosely around his neck and leaned in. She inhaled his clean, masculine scent. As they shuffled in time, she inched her way closer until they touched, chest to chest. Her nipples hardened as she brushed against him. His hands tightened on her rib cage for an instant before he relaxed them, clearing his throat. “Did you say what brought you to West Chester?” “Business.” She wasn’t going to lie any more than absolutely necessary so she hoped he didn’t ask her to elaborate. She also didn’t want to tip him off to the rest of her plans for the week if he didn’t bite tonight. Still, it was time to make a bold move. “But I could be convinced to mix that with pleasure.” As she spoke she leaned in hard until her hips were flush with his. A shiver stole through her and she tried not to groan. He felt damn good. And that was bad. She was supposed to be trying to turn him on, not vice versa. He sucked in a breath and bowed his head.

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“Listen, you seem like a nice enough person. And there’s no doubt about it, you’re gorgeous. But I’m not in the market for a girlfriend.” “That’s perfect, because I’m not in the market to be a girlfriend.” He gritted his teeth and tightened his hold on her. “Well, I should tell you that I’m not in the market for a meaningless fuck, either.” She looked straight into his eyes and asked, “Why ever not?”

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Chapter Two Damn if that wasn’t the question of the hour. “I’m just not.” In spite of his protest, her bold honesty paired with that heated stare had gone straight to his cock. It thickened in response, urging him to reconsider that last statement. Mila’s eyes widened and she tilted her hips farther into his. Jesus, he had to put a stop to this madness while his big head still had some control over the little one. “Surely a pretty girl like you doesn’t need to resort to asking more than once. You can find a dozen willing and able men in the blink of an eye. Why me?” “Maybe I like a challenge.” It had been hard enough to maintain himself around her before the full-court press. Adding blatant sensuality and total candor to the mix was making it near impossible. The rapid crumbling of his self-control was starting to piss him off. “Yeah, well maybe I do too. And, sugar, you might be just a little too easy for my taste.” The lie curdled on his tongue and he looked away. There was nothing hotter than a woman who went after what she wanted and was comfortable with her sexuality. Not to mention she’d been nothing but nice to him. He’d wanted to drive her away, to remove the temptation, but that didn’t mean he had to be a jerk to her. He opened his mouth to apologize but then closed it with a snap. No, he needed to get away from her before he did something he couldn’t live with. If her self-esteem took a hit in the process, that was too bad. She had surely never been denied before, so it wouldn’t be a mortal blow regardless.

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Silence stretched between them until she leaned her head back, pinning him with her gaze. Mila didn’t look shocked, angry or even annoyed. No, instead she leveled him with the oldest of smiles and ground her pussy against his cock. She tipped her face up to his, her breath tickling his chin as she whispered, “You. Lie.” She punctuated her words with another roll of her lithe hips and he bit back a groan. “You can try to fool yourself, but you can’t fool me, soldier. I know you want it. What you choose to do about it is up to you, but we’re both grownups. Don’t bullshit me.” He closed his eyes against the onslaught, his cock insistent now, throbbing, aching. It had been so long. She let her arms slide away from his neck to trail down his chest. His muscles leapt and bunched in response and his breathing become labored, his head swimming with the smell of lilacs and warm woman. Just as he thought he’d either lose his mind or selfimplode from the strain of holding back, the song ended. He released her and stepped away, adrenaline pounding through him. Another sixty seconds in the web of this woman and he was toast. Desperate, he steeled himself. “Listen, I was trying to be polite. I went along with the dance and all, but you’re just not my type.” He raked her frame with his gaze. “And I hate to break it to you, but just because you’re rubbing your cunt against my cock and it’s responding doesn’t mean I want you. I could come in my own hand as easily as I could come in yours but that doesn’t mean I want to fuck myself. I’m sure you’ll find better luck with the next guy.” She sucked in a breath and opened her mouth to reply but was cut off before she began. “Hey, since he’s leaving, can I get in on that?” A blond pretty boy with all-gym muscles stood a few feet away eyeing Mila as if she were a juicy steak and he was a ravenous dog. He weaved in place a little, spilling some beer on the floor in the process. 23

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“Thanks, but I’m all danced out,” Mila responded, her tone cool and firm as she turned to walk off the dance floor. Pretty Boy set his beer on a nearby table and took her wrist, halting her progress. “You looked like you had plenty of energy left when you were dancing with him.” “She said no thanks,” Trent cut in, a cold fury jacking his already tenuous blood pressure up even higher. If the bastard left a mark on her wrist he was going to gut him. He despised men who abused women. “And sometimes a girl just needs a little convincing, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” “Listen, I’m not interest—” “The way you were riding up on this gentleman here tells me different. You sure were acting interested in something. He doesn’t want you, and I have the cure for what seems to be ailing you, so why not?” He was smiling, but his eyes had a hard glint to them that Trent had seen many times and recognized as cruelty. “Get your hands off her now before I do something I regret.” He stared into the younger man’s face and realized it wasn’t going to be so easy. Trent dodged right a second before a sloppy left came flying at his chin. The momentum of the missed swing carried Pretty Boy around in a one eighty, landing him flat on his face. Unfortunately, he didn’t stay down long, jumping to his feet and lunging at Trent with a snarl of rage. Trent stayed motionless until the guy was just about to barrel into him, then laid an open-handed blow to his neck. The guy dropped as if he’d been sniped by an unseen gunman, crumpling to the floor in a motionless heap. A bear of a man rushed forward, bleary eyes flitting from Trent to his buddy on the ground.

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Trent gave him a hard stare and shook his head one time. “Do the right thing, man, just get him out of here.” The big guy wet his fleshy lips and nodded, bending to help his fallen comrade stand. Trent reached out and took Mila’s elbow, getting her out of harm’s way just in case one of the two stooges started feeling froggy again. She held herself stiff in his grasp as he drew her back into the relative quiet of the game room then released her. “You okay?” “I’m fine. You?” she asked, her tone icy. “Yeah. Listen, why don’t I walk you to your car?” “No, that’s okay, I’ve got to call a cab. You go ahead with your brother, I can take care of myself.” His stomach knotted as guilt railed at him. The guy had clearly seen him dismissing Mila and then, even worse, talking to her in a disrespectful tone. Maybe he’d thought it would be cool to follow suit. What if the bastard had waited until she left to approach her in the parking lot? She might have found herself in serious trouble and it would have been his fault. “I have no doubt that you can handle yourself, but I don’t feel good about you being alone right now. Just because we’re not going to sleep together doesn’t mean I want to see you hurt. At least let me wait out front with you.” She gave him a curt nod but it seemed as if he had finally killed off any interest she’d had in him. Seduction was obviously the furthest thing from her mind now. He should have been thrilled, but instead an irrational disappointment coursed through him. Trent tamped down his regret and turned away to pick up her coat, holding it out as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. His knuckles brushed against her bare shoulder and he nearly snatched his hand away.

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Why did her skin have to be so soft? Why did his dick have to be so hard? He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the scent of lilacs and ignore the tingling in his hands. He truly didn’t need this shit.

After paying her tab and promising Seamus she would come back sometime, they headed out the door. Mila shivered as they stepped into the brisk night air. Things hadn’t gone as she’d hoped at all. Which meant tomorrow she was back to square one. Worse, really. Square negative one, because she had to undo the damage she’d done. He was wary of her now, and even more wary of his reaction to her. She’d played it all wrong. He was physically attracted to her, but dead set against acting on it. So rather than spending the night playing pool with him, befriending him and getting him to let his guard down a little, she’d gone for the blitz. Way to go, slick. She had almost a week. Chalking up the night to a meet and greet/getting to know you session would have left her plenty of time to seduce him without scaring him off. Instead, after all these years on the job, she’d acted like a rookie. What had gotten into her? The answer to that was a no-brainer. Trent Beauford. He was unlike any other charge she’d worked with. He was no shy guy who needed encouragement to come out of his shell. No bench-warmer with self-esteem issues who needed help with the ladies. Nope, Trent Beauford was the epitome of confidence. The fucking team captain. She’d never been with a guy who could hold his own against her. And it was affecting her, no doubt about it.

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“They’re right around the corner, should be here in a minute,” Trent said as he pocketed his cell phone. Might as well be an eternity. “Seriously, it’s well lit out here, I’ll be fine. Go back inside.” She needed some space, some distance from him to clear her head so she could work out what her next move would be. “Not going to happen.” They stood in tense silence as they waited for her taxi, which came a merciful five minutes later. Trent opened the door and she slid in, anxious to get some distance from him and the disaster of a night. “Goodbye, Mila, it’s been…interesting.” Indeed. “Enjoy the rest of your night, soldier.” She closed the door with a snap and the cab pulled away from the curb. She didn’t look back.

***** An hour later, Mila lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. She finally had the distance from him that she’d craved, but she was still no clearer on the situation or any closer to understanding how she was going to drag Trent Beauford back from the brink. Still, the night hadn’t been a total bust. He’d noticed her, and that was a start. The problem was she had noticed him every bit as much. The lines of his gorgeous face were carved in her mind. She thought back to how right his big, hard body had felt against hers and her nipples tightened. Enough. Daydreaming about a charge was ill-advised. And falling for one was flat-out against the rules. A good NGM was a single NGM. A woman whose heart was already spoken for couldn’t put hers into helping her charges or do what needed to be done to prepare them for the fairer sex. As soon as she was compromised in that way, she 27

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would be moved to another detail. Either to your garden-variety Fairy Godmother, or, if there were no openings, Tooth Fairy. Mila shuddered. Fuck all if she was going to collect germ-infested incisors from miniature people. That just wasn’t her bag. Until they officially pulled her off NGM duty and made her a full-time trainer, she wasn’t going to risk it. Still, she did need to come up with a strategy, so blocking him out of her mind altogether wasn’t going to work. Lucienne hadn’t been kidding when she said he was resistant to letting go and moving on. He was like a cinderblock wall of determination. She was sort of impressed. There weren’t many men who could have held up against the full brunt of her sexuality. She was an attractive woman in her own right but she had also spent years learning the art of seduction so she could teach it to her charges. No question, she was a force to be reckoned with. And still, he had prevailed. Regardless of his misguided reasons, his willpower was admirable. As was his almost reflexive reaction when that punk had tried to manhandle her. She could have taken care of the would-be Lothario, but it was tricky in public. Plus, she admitted ruefully, she’d wanted to see Trent’s reaction. Wanted to see what kind of man he was. And despite his attempt to scare her away with his razor-sharp words, Trent Beauford was a good man. A man running scared, prepared to pull out any weapon in his arsenal to resist her, but a good man nonetheless. And he needed her help. A man who had loved his wife so much that even two years after her death, he still mourned her so deeply deserved to find happiness. He had a lot of life left to live, and it would be a shame to throw it away. The type of woman special enough to inspire that kind of loyalty would not want this shell of an existence for her husband. The wave of envy that swamped Mila made her wince from ugliness of that part of herself. What kind of fairy envied a poor dead woman? The answer to that question was no prettier than her reaction. Because even though Marisol had lived an all too

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short life, she had known what it was to be cherished, and wasn’t that the sweetest thing. Mila thought she had known that feeling. But when she had come into her magic and her father had been summoned to the Queen for instructions, he had turned his back on her. Swore that she must be some sort of demon and walked away as if he’d never loved her at all. As if he’d never worn a silly hat and played tea party with her. As if they’d never danced the waltz around the living room, her feet snugged over his. As if he hadn’t tucked her in every night and told her she was his best girl and he loved her to the moon and beyond. An unfamiliar burning sensation made Mila blink. She cleared her suddenly clogged throat, then swallowed hard. Tears. Tears? She hadn’t cried in almost two decades. Tears were for the weak, and that sure as shit wasn’t her anymore. Get your head in the game. She steeled herself, disengaging from the emotional side of the equation. Instead she focused on the things she could control, and her mind began to swirl with plans and strategies. She was in a battle of wills with Trent Beauford. And just like every battle she’d ever been in, she was going to win.

***** Trent stood under the hot spray, letting the water sluice over his tense body. He wasn’t nearly as inebriated as he needed to be, and that bothered him. After Mila had left, he’d gone back inside with the intention of getting piss drunk. But after only one more bourbon, he found himself feeling restless, needing to move. Suddenly getting drunk hadn’t seemed all that appealing. In fact, the only thing that

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seemed appealing at all was having Mila underneath him as he worked his cock in and out of her pussy until they both came. Hard. Actually, not true. He’d be just as glad to have her on all fours so he could clutch those hips and watch her ass bounce while he fucked her from behind. He groaned and laid his forehead on the tile wall. Bryan had broken his balls mercilessly about letting Mila slip away, but hadn’t minded making it an early night. As much as his brother wanted to pretend he was all about these last few days of bachelorhood, he was in fact madly in love with his brideto-be. He was probably on the phone making kissy noises to her right now. Noises… What kind of noises would Mila make if he swept his tongue along her slit and then sucked her clit into his mouth? Would she whimper? Scream? Trent’s cock pulsed, aching for attention. He tried to think about something else, anything else, but it just wasn’t happening. He turned off the spray with a vicious jerk and then stepped out of the shower. Why couldn’t she have just left him alone? He’d been perfectly happy before she’d shown up. Okay, maybe not happy, but he was dealing just fine. Then she had to go wagging that tail around like a dog in heat and fucking with his mind. He dried himself off briskly, grunting when he encountered his traitorous dick. After giving it a cursory swipe, he stepped into his bedroom and threw the towel into the hamper. He didn’t bother with boxers, opting to just slide beneath the covers of his double bed. When Marisol was alive they had slept in a king. He was a sprawler, always ending up half on her side. If she ever wanted to get any sleep, they needed the space. No point in keeping a bed that big for one person, though. No point in keeping the house either, so he’d sold them both. Sick of thinking, he clicked on the TV. He flipped through the channels but one show kept playing in his mind, blocking out everything on the screen.

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Mila bending over. Mila making him dance. Mila tilting her chin to look at him, her lips parted, eyes shining. He tried to shut it off, but it just kept playing over and over in his head. The ache in his groin was insistent now and he was in serious blue-ball territory. That pain wasn’t going away until he got some sort of release. Defeated, he slid a hand under the sheet and wrapped it around his cock. A hiss escaped his lips as he worked up the shaft, squeezing the head before sliding back down. This wasn’t going to take long at all. Trent closed his eyes and stopped fighting the memory of Mila’s face, her body, as he stroked himself. He imagined her full, glossy lips closing on his cock. Her hot mouth moving over him as he wrapped a fist into her silky, black hair. She would look up at him as she sucked him off, her bold eyes never leaving his as she moved faster and faster. A thick heat pooled in his groin as the vision flickered and changed. She was on her back now, running a hand over her pussy, spearing a slim finger into her slit and writhing as she touched herself. Her golden skin glowed, her firm breasts displayed, nipples tight and hard, begging for his mouth. “Touch me, Trent,” his fantasy whispered. He groaned in response as the pressure built, his muscles tightening as he started to crack into a thousand pieces. She smiled up at him. “Yes, that’s it,” she murmured, rolling a dusky nipple between her thumb and forefinger. He roared, plunging over the edge in a mad rush of sensation. The vision faded as hot cum spurted from his cock, splashing his stomach and chest as he shook and jerked. As his heartbeat began to slow and the pounding of blood rushing in his ears subsided, the guilt came rolling in. Like black smog, dank and heavy, it smothered him in its familiar embrace. Marisol. 31

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His beautiful wife was dead, her last breath a whistling, agony-filled gasp. She’d refused the morphine at the very end, wanting to remember his face clearly, wanting it to be the last thing she saw. His face. Trent launched himself off the bed, heading for the bathroom to take another shower. It was a waste of time, really. Because even when he was done, he wouldn’t feel clean.

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Chapter Three The next evening, Trent spent the five-mile cab ride to The Naughty Kitty deep in thought. He’d had a shit night of sleep and then spent the day busting his ass at Bryan’s house. His brother had asked Molly to marry him in a gazebo the summer before, so he thought it would be romantic to surprise her by building one in the backyard of their new house. In the middle of winter. So Trent had lived up to his best-man moniker and stood out in the dick-shriveling cold to help his only sibling. They would finish building it the next day and then hopefully have time to slap a coat of paint on it before Molly got back. Trent had really hoped for some time alone tonight, but despite the long and physical day, Bryan had insisted they stick with the plan. They were going to see a burlesque show at some club that had opened up a few months back. He let out a frustrated sigh. How he was going to get through the next week and put on a happy face for his brother, he didn’t know. But he was damn sure going to try. This was Bryan’s time and he wasn’t going to ruin it for him. Soon enough this leave would be over and he’d go back to work and probably not see his brother for six months or more. He was up to reenlist next month anyway, making him eligible for another tour. Then he’d be able to ride into the sunset and stop the charade. No faking a happy face. No one bugging him to “plug back in”, whatever the hell that meant. Just peace and quiet…and war. Easy. He walked into the club, grim but determined. He didn’t relish the night ahead for more reasons than one. Mila had affected him, reawakened feelings he’d thought were long dead. Now something stirred in him, something dark and achy and he didn’t like

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it one bit. Watching a bunch of naked women writhing around wasn’t likely to quell the urge that was still dogging him, even after the release the night before. As he approached a sleek, walnut podium just inside the entrance to the club, the pretty hostess looked up with a smile. “Just one in your party, sir?” she asked in a transcontinental accent that reminded him of all those actresses back in the 1940’s. “Two, actually. Bryan Beauford will be meeting me shortly, if you can show him to our table.” She stepped from behind the podium and led him forward, down a few steps into the dimly lit lounge. She wore a fitted red dress that came to her knees, black high heels with ankle straps and black stockings with a seam down the back. A pillbox hat and red lips completed the enticing picture; tasteful, but sexy. Not at all what he’d been expecting. When Bryan had told him where he’d wanted to go for his second bachelor night out, he’d been thinking something a little more seedy. But it really wasn’t and he had a feeling that under different circumstances, maybe in a past life, he would’ve liked this place. The hostess placed the drink menu on a small, round table and gestured for him to sit. “Your waitress will be right over and the show will begin shortly. Enjoy,” she said, flashing him another, more lingering smile. “Thanks.” He kept his tone polite, but didn’t smile back. He waited for Bryan, nursing a beer as patrons trailed in. Surprisingly, about a third of the audience was female and there were quite a few couples in attendance. Fifteen minutes passed before the lights grew dim. Hopefully Brian would be able to find him once the stage lights kicked on.

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Burgundy velvet curtains swooshed open and five lovely women danced onto the stage to the tune of Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend booming out of the small orchestra pit. A pretty redhead dressed in a blue, floor-length gown and white gloves stepped to the forefront. She began to sing in a clear, pleasant voice. Her gloves came off with a flourish as the ladies around her harmonized and shimmied and danced their asses off. By the end of her number, the gown had come off, and the gloves as well, until she was left in only a blue baby-doll nightgown. Each of the girls went in turn, and before the medley of songs had ended twenty minutes later, all of Trent’s preconceived notions about burlesque had been totally obliterated. What he had assumed was going to be a hard-core event that made you want to wash your hands afterward was, in fact, an elegant nod to a simpler, almost wholesome time. The women on stage were entertainers in every sense of the word, and he was a little taken aback by the whole thing. When the last notes of the song faded away, he found himself clapping along with the rest of the crowd. The curtains closed and background music played as waitresses moved discreetly around the room taking fresh drink orders. He glanced around the room, but Bryan still hadn’t arrived. He texted him a quick “WTF?” and set his phone down as the lights flickered. A minute later, the curtain opened again. In the center of the dark stage stood a large dressing screen illuminated by a single spotlight. A lone trumpet wailed as the silhouette of a woman seated on a chair came into view behind the screen. Sensual music weaved a spell around the room, which held its collective breath as the figure moved, swaying and rocking to the music. Trent leaned forward on the edge of his seat when a sultry voice, thick as caramel, washed over him. He caught his breath as she stood, telling a tale of summertime and easy livin’, her form in profile. His breath stuck in his gullet. 35

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He sat frozen, gaze glued to the stage as the dancer slunk to the edge of the screen. A foot encased in a red stiletto peeked into view, followed by one long, golden leg. A trim, bare arm slunk down that sleek thigh and back up again. All the while, she sang, the husky timber of her voice tickling an elusive memory. Where had he hear— The answer came crashing into him. Mila. Totally ridiculous. It couldn’t be. But Trent knew it as surely as he knew his own name. The voice, that thigh. Unless his mind was totally addled, that was Mila. When she finally stepped into view, he almost growled out loud. The blood rushed from his head to his cock, leaving him momentarily disoriented. He strained forward, his chest flush against the table as he waited for her next move as her voice seduced him. She was wrapped in a black, silk kimono. The neckline plunged to her navel, and his mouth went dry as he realized she was naked beneath. Her hair was in a loose knot on the top of her head, the style emphasizing her long, graceful neck and the exotic tilt of her eyes. Her lips were slicked the same cherry red as her shoes, and her mouth looked luscious and totally fuckable. The lights in the room were so low, there was no way she could see him, and yet it seemed like she was looking right into his eyes. He tried to look away but was spellbound as her fingers closed over the sash at her waist. Her mouth still moved in song, but the pounding in his ears blocked out the sound as she loosened the knot and began to slide the silk robe over her shoulders. The air was sucked out of the room as the material slipped over her body, landing in an ebony pool at her feet. Not naked. Worse than naked.

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A black bustier cupped her breasts like a lover’s hands, plumping them forward for his ravenous gaze. Between them, a deep vee cut all the way down to just above her pubic bone, baring a path of sweet, naked skin. Her black panties looked like tiny triangles suspended by two pieces of string resting on her curvy hips. That was some hard-working string, because what she did with those hips was awe-inspiring. She swiveled, she swayed, she shimmied, she shook. And the whole time, Trent tried to remember why he couldn’t have her. And the whole time, it was like she was singing to only him. By the time the last notes rang out and she exited the stage, he was actually shaking with lust. A loud whistle ripped through the air, and he turned to see Bryan standing and hooting his approval. Trent hadn’t even noticed him come in. “When did you get here?” “About five minutes ago, not that you would have noticed.” “I was watching the show.” “Is that what you call it? You looked like a god damn cartoon character with your eyes goggling and steam coming out of your ears. Actually, you want my napkin? You have a little drool…” He began to dab playfully at Trent’s chin. “Back off, dickhead.” “Okay, okay.” Bryan put up a conciliatory hand. “Geez, touchy much? You’re so tense. You know what the cure for that is, don’t you?” “I swear to g—” “Massage. I was going to say we should go get massages tomorrow. What did you think I was going to say?” The waitress came by, saving him from having to answer. They ordered a drink and waited for the next number to start. He sincerely hoped it was soon. The last thing he needed was to get the third degree.

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“So, weird coincidence, her working here, huh?” Trent sighed. No getting out of it. “Yep. Weird. Actually, can we go? I don’t want her to think we’re stalking her or something.” What he didn’t say was that, if he stayed much longer, he was afraid he might end up doing exactly that. If he followed her home, would she welcome him with open arms? Legs? He shifted in his chair, adjusting himself in his suddenly too-tight jeans. “No way. This is the best show for a few hundred miles, and I have a couple days left of freedom. Besides, she’s not going to think that. You didn’t even know she worked here. Plus, she seemed to really like you.” “She hardly knows me.” “Who knows anybody at first? She liked what she saw. And I know it’s been a while, but that’s how relationships start. Chemistry. Attraction.” The pit began to play and the lights dimmed again. Trent let out a pent-up breath. Saved by the saxophone. He tried to be nonchalant, but his eyes were glued to the stage for even a hint of Mila’s form in the dim light. Then the stage lit up, and there she was, sprawled across a grand piano in a black tuxedo jacket with a long, tight skirt. A man played some bluesy chords and she sang. Trent was enthralled. Despite the fact Bryan was there watching his reaction, he just couldn’t look away as she planted her feet on the ground and started to dance. The skirt gave way to a smaller skirt, which gave way to the tiniest skirt in the world. Next, the jacket came off, leaving her in a white corset. Smoking. And again, she seemed to seek him out in the darkened theater, her gaze locking on him. “Can she see us?” Bryan asked in an exaggerated whisper. “Doubt it.” 38

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But as she stepped off the stage, patting men on the head as she passed, bestowing a smile or a wink here and there, she made a beeline for their table. His heart knocked hard and his throat felt tight as she moved closer. Finally, she stood right in front of him as the smell of lilacs saturated his senses. “Hold it a minute, would ya boys?” she shouted into her headset microphone. The music cut out. “How’s everybody doing tonight?” The crowd roared. “That’s real good. I’m doing all right myself. But I need a set of hands to help me. See, this last one’s a doozy.” She ran a tongue over her top lip and whispered, “What do you think, soldier? Can you help?” Again, the crowd clapped and whistled. She turned her exquisite back to him and lifted the mass of hair away. He hesitated for an instant, and Bryan yelled, “Hey, if he won’t do it, I will!” The crowd laughed, but Trent didn’t think it was funny. In fact, the thought of Bryan’s hands on her made him want to throttle him. He reached up and closed his fingers over the first of the tiny hooks that held her top closed. Her ass was a mere three inches from his face and it took all his strength not to flip up her little mini and sink his teeth in. His hands shook, so the first one took a bit, but she bantered with the crowd as he got his bearings. The rest went more quickly, and his pulse increased with every inch of silky skin he bared. He released the last fastener and held his breath. “Thanks, sugar,” she said, and turned to face him. One hand held the corset in place, and she dropped it to her side. The scrap of material hung on her full breasts,

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catching for a split second before dropping onto his lap. She was left in a barely there strapless white bra and panties. Trent’s cock was so stiff, he wondered if there was a drop of blood anywhere else in his body. Mile flashed him a feral smile then made a slashing gesture with her hand, causing the band to strike up once again. She turned and he realized she had on a thong. Her gorgeous, naked ass swayed before him and he nearly swallowed his tongue. She slunk back to the stage and finished her song to a standing ovation. The house lights flashed on and people began to stir. When Bryan excused himself to go to the bathroom, Trent took advantage of his absence and flagged down the hostess when he saw her walking by. “Excuse me, but will she be back on again?” “Who, Raven? No, there will be another set of girls for the late-late show. She was great, though, wasn’t she?” she gushed. “She’s a traveling headliner and we got her sort of last minute but it was a gamble that totally paid off. My boss is beaming. What did you think?” She leaned on the chair back, settling in for a gab session, but he cut in. “Yeah, she was great. The whole show was fantastic.” He thanked her for the great service, laid a hefty tip in her palm and excused himself. Trent pressed through the throng of people, moving toward what looked like a long hallway leading to the back of stage. Adrenaline pounded in his veins and his whole body was in overdrive. He was horny, he was pissed, he felt guilty and angry all at once. He half expected to get stopped by security as he entered the corridor, but passed without issue. As he walked, he scanned the names on the plaques outside the dressing room doors.

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He got to the last one which simply said “Guest”. Underneath, there was a piece of paper announcing the room’s inhabitant. Raven Bordeaux Mila’s stage name. When she’d said she was in town for business, it had never occurred to him that her business was burlesque. He paused, raising a fist to rap on the door, but then lowered it. Fuck that. She didn’t respect his boundaries, why should he respect hers? This shouldn’t take long anyway. The knob turned easily in his hand and he walked right in. There she stood, barefoot and buck naked, kimono in hand. Her shocked eyes met his and the little speech he’d been about to give her went right out the window as something inside him snapped.

She hadn’t even needed to scry him to know he was coming. She could feel him, feel the intensity of his need and yearning, the stinging bite of his anger and guilt. Never had she been able to connect that way with a charge once she’d accepted an assignment. It terrified her. And pissed her off. She was the one in control. She was the one with magic. So why was she trembling and fighting the urge to run? She had already washed off her stage makeup and begun to undress when she’d sensed him. Swallowing back her nerves, she continued to strip down until she was nude. At the last moment, though, panic seized her and she grabbed up the silk robe for some cover. Before she could get it over her shoulders the door flew open, banging against the wall as Trent strode in. He slammed it behind him, but it was the sound of the lock engaging that echoed in her ears.

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He didn’t take his fevered gaze off her for an instant as he padded closer. His expression was so intense, so pained, she wondered if he might be ill. “Why are you doing this to me?” His voice was thick with emotion and her stomach lurched as she took a step back. She swallowed hard and wet her lips before responding. “I don’t—” “Don’t toy with me, Mila. I can’t take it right now. I’m going to give you what you want. Because if I don’t, I feel like I’ll never get you out of my head. Now drop the robe and step closer.” His tone brooked no argument. Her heart pounded as fear laced with excitement winged through her veins. She shouldn’t be afraid. She shouldn’t be excited, either. This was a job. Just another job. “Listen, we don’t h—” “I’m through listening,” he ground out. She gasped as her bottom pressed against the cool oak of the wall. She hadn’t even realized that as he moved forward across the length of the room, she had been backing away from him. Running from him, like a scared little bunny. She lifted her chin and opened her damp fist to let the kimono drop. A grim smile ghosted his lips before disappearing and he nodded his approval. She tried to slow her pounding heart as he crowded her in farther, pressing the length of his huge, hard body against hers. He smelled of manly soap and beer and need. She couldn’t stop herself from inhaling deeply to breathe him in. The movement caused her nipples to rub against the nubby cotton of his sweater and she moaned. He wedged a hand up between them and cupped her breast, skimming the pebbled tip with his thumb. She arched her back and was rewarded as his thick cock pressed against her pubic bone. He growled and pushed back hard as he released her nipple and slid his hand upward to caress her throat.

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“Are you wet for me already, Mila? Because I’ve been sprung for you since the second I laid eyes on you,” he murmured, dipping his head lower until their mouths almost touched. Unable to speak, she nodded. “Should I check to make sure?” Heat suffused her whole body as she anticipated his touch. Jesus, she’d never wanted a man like this, and certainly never one of her charges. Her thoughts scattered as his firm, hot hand closed over her pussy. Electricity arced through her and she cried out, pushing herself more fully into his grasp. Trent froze, letting out a hiss. “You’re on fire.” He was right, she felt as if she was just minutes from going up in flames. Job. This is just a job. He kissed her then, touching his tongue to hers, exploring the sensitive inside of her bottom lip. He nudged her knees apart with his, and dipped two fingers into her pussy deep. Her legs quivered as he retracted and plunged in again, stretching her. His tongue mimicked the speed of his thrusts and the kiss got rougher and harder. She sobbed into his mouth, desperate to be closer, wild with the need for something more. She pulsed her hips, riding his fingers as the pressure became almost unbearable. She’d been here before, knowing she would never find release, but never this far gone. Mila clenched her teeth, biting back a scream of frustration as her body twitched. After twenty-four hours of thinking of him and anticipating his touch, she was so close. So fucking close. But there was no help for her and she knew it. She’d never been able to come with a man, and in the end, this time would be no different despite the promising start. She could take care of her need when he was gone. This was supposed to be about Trent.

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She tried to pull away, to touch him the way he was touching her, but he grabbed her wrist and held. “Later.” His voice was guttural and his muscles quaked with the tension of holding himself in check. A rush of power washed over her. The ever-present discipline that seemed to define him was close to splintering, and damn if she didn’t want to see that. She used all her strength coupled with a smattering of magic to snake away from his staying hand before closing hers unerringly over his jeans-clad cock. With a groan, he leaned in close, pressing his lips to her shoulder in an openmouthed kiss. She stroked him through his pants until he wrested her hand away and his teeth closed over her bare shoulder, hard. She drew back in shock and yelped. Even as she pulled away, a wave of heat blasted through her belly. What the hell? She met his gaze head-on, seeing the shock on his face that must have mirrored her own. She should be pissed, but instead she was spellbound. Almost trancelike, she watched as he leaned forward again, slowly this time, giving her a chance to protest. The anticipation was killing her, stretching her nerve endings to the breaking point. And then his teeth were on her, sinking into her shoulder. He nudged his fingers deeper into her pussy as he licked the flesh wedged tight between his strong teeth. The sharp pain shot straight through her as her nerve endings lit up. But right on its tail, there it was again, pure pleasure that left her breathless. He lifted his head and his already heated gaze turned molten. “You like it rough, Mila?” Did she? She only whimpered in response as he worked his fingers into her again. He released her and closed his strong hand over her breast, teasing her nipple as he thrust in and out of her pussy. She tossed her head, mindless with need, still hovering on the precipice. “You’re so fucking wet, it’s killing me.”

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Trent lowered his head and closed his mouth over her nipple and sucked deeply. “Please. Please finish it,” she begged, no longer caring that it wasn’t about her need. No longer able to see anything past the fingers driving into her, the mouth consuming her. Then he pinched her aching nipple in his teeth and tugged. Pain and pleasure crashed together in a riot of sensation. “Oh my god, yeah, don’t stop,” she cried as a climax bore down on her. He murmured low in his throat, encouraging her, fucking her with his fingers, nipping the sensitive tip of her breast— “Raven? You in there? Denny wants to talk to you about doing another show tomorrow night if you’re still going to be in town.” The door knob rattled and Trent froze. Mila sucked in a shuddering breath, her whole body quivering. The unresolved orgasm writhed like a beast inside her, so close she could taste it…so close that it hurt. Trent tore his mouth from her breast and slid his fingers from her. She bit back a moan as he did. “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t hurt you. That’s—that’s not me. I have to go, this was a mistake.” His voice was tight, his expression shuttered. If not for the pulse pounding in his neck and tiny beads of sweat on his upper lip, he might have actually had her fooled. He bent to retrieve her robe and slipped it over her shoulders before moving to the door. He paused for a moment, scrubbed a hand down his face, then opened the door with a smile. “Sorry about that. Just wanted to congratulate her on a great show. She’s all yours, ma’am.” Then he was gone.

*****

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By the time she got back home, she was drained, both physically and mentally. When she’d been preparing to take Trent on as a charge, she’d done some recon and knew she might have to go to the club to run into him that second night if she failed to land him at O’Toole’s. She’d considered just going into The Naughty Kitty as a patron, but didn’t want him to think she was following him. Stalkers weren’t sexy. Plus, she figured he would pay more attention if she was on stage. Getting the owner to agree to let her headline had been a breeze. Once he’d gotten a look at her in her costume, he would have agreed to just about anything. She was nothing if not persuasive. No, it was learning the group routines that had been the hard part. Luckily, she was in good shape and coordinated. She wondered how her friend Holly would have managed dancing like that in stilettos and chuckled at the mental picture. She probably would have ended up in traction. Her smile faded as she thought back to the rest of the night. Clinically speaking, it had been a success. Trent was a man on the edge. It was a short push to get him over. Tomorrow was the night, she had no doubt. The only question was, how to push him over without letting herself get dragged along with him? Because, somehow, she’d ended up perched on the ledge right next to him. Maybe it was the way he touched her. He was so manly. No weepy blather about making love and caresses. He wanted her in the most animalistic of ways and that sparked something deep down inside her. For all of her strength, and need to control every situation, it was freeing to have someone else take the reins. More than freeing, it was dead sexy. He wasn’t intimidated by her looks or her overt sexuality. He fought against it, but he wasn’t intimidated. He was a gentleman, protective and sweet in his way, yet totally confident and commanding. Her charges had all been lacking in the confidence department. And every man she’d ever dated had let her be the boss, in bed and out. If someone had asked her two days ago, she would have said she preferred it that way. 46

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But then this guy… This guy was something else. She wanted him. Not just because he was a challenge, or because she wanted to succeed at her task. She genuinely wanted him, even now, when he wasn’t touching her. She wanted to feel him moving inside her. To see his jaw tense and his eyes close as he came. To feel his fingers digging into her hips because he just couldn’t be gentle any longer. Her blood began to heat again and for a second she considered getting out her vibrator just to take the edge off. Resolute, she turned over and snuggled deeper into the covers. Trent needed her. And she was going to level the playing field by going into tomorrow needing him just as bad. She had a very specific itch and there was only one way to scratch it. She would have a night with Trent Beauford for both of their sakes. One night, and she wasn’t going to settle for less.

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Chapter Four “I can’t believe you walked away from her again. You’re a real shithead, you know that?” Trent let out a snort. “Yeah, says the guy sitting around sipping coffee while I finish painting his gazebo.” “Hey, I told you I just needed a quick break. My tennis elbow’s acting up,” Bryan retorted. “Tennis elbow, my ass. You probably spent all week jerking off since Mol is away and now you can’t even finish her wedding gift. Real nice. I don’t know why she’s even saddling herself with your lazy hide.” “It’s because of my winning smile. Well, that and my eight-inch dick.” Trent snorted with laughter. “You forget we slept in the same room for eighteen years, bro. The only way you have an eight-inch dick is if you managed to somehow get a four-inch extension sometime in the last ten years.” A wet paintbrush hit him square on the neck with a thwack. He turned to find Bryan grinning at him like an idiot. “You’re going to regret that.” He grabbed the nearest open can of paint and ran at his brother, who jumped to his feet. Trent had to give it to the little bastard, he still had wheels. By the time the paint war ended, their clothes were covered. They had called a truce and were just finishing up the gazebo when Bryan broke the companionable silence. “How are you doing, man?” “Fine.”

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His brother set down his brush. “I’m sick of hearing that. You’re not fine. And until you admit that, you’ll never be fine again.” Trent tried to quell the anger, but it couldn’t be contained. “Don’t try to fix me, damn it. I am sick of everyone trying to fix me. It’s not so easy, you know. She was my whole world. For ten years she was my whole world, and in six months she was gone. What if it was Molly?” Bryan blanched, but Trent pressed on. “You think you could just pick up and forget she ever existed? Just jump back into life? And if you did, what would that make you? I promised to love her forever.” Bryan shook his head slowly. “’Til death do you part.” “No. No. Not just my vows. What we lived. What I told her every day. I told her I would never forget her. That I would love her forever.” Panic was slipping in and he needed to get away. To be left alone. “I’m not saying forget her. I’m saying allow yourself to have a second shot at life. Being with someone else doesn’t mean that you didn’t love Marisol, you know that, don’t you? She knew that. That’s why she tol—” “Stop. I’m done. Finish your fucking gazebo by yourself.” He tossed his brush to the ground and stalked across the yard. His brother called after him, “People aren’t meant to live solitary lives, Trent. Mari loved you so much, she would hate the thought of you alone.” Trent kept walking and flipped his middle finger high in the air without turning around.

***** It was after ten o’clock that night before Trent finally caved. His brother’s college buddies had all flown in that evening for the wedding on Sunday and they were all supposed to get together for food and some mayhem. He’d already missed dinner and the first couple hours of bar-hopping. The guys in the wedding party had been texting

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him for the past three hours. The most recent salvo had been a sappy voicemail from Bryan. “Bro, I’m sorry. I love you. For real. This is my last night and it’s not the same without you. We’ll be at O’Toole’s for another hour or so, then we’re hitting Main Street. Please. I won’t bug you.” Trent shook his head and tried to stay mad, but Bryan was obviously already on his way to wasted, and his sloppy but heartfelt message made Trent realize he was being too rough on him. Bryan just wanted what was best for him. It wasn’t his fault that he was talking out of his ass. It had just been the two of them for ten years now, since their dad had passed away. They managed to stay together with financial support from Seamus, but he’d been living in Ireland at the time caring for his sick mother and it had been Trent who had taken care of Bryan until he’d finished high school. He sure as hell wasn’t going to abandon him now. Three more days before it was all over anyway. He could handle three more days. Besides, Mila had been asked back to the Naughty Kitty to perform that night. So as long as he stayed away from the place, and her, it would be a breeze. A small price to pay for one of the only people in his life who mattered. Then why are you going to re-up? To spend the next few years away from him again, if you even make it back? When Marisol had been alive, they had talked about starting a family. He’d had one more year left with the Rangers, then he was done. He’d been getting his ducks in a row to start a private, elite training facility where security specialists could come and get top-level instruction on self-defense and weapons training. He’d had a crack-shot team of guys ready to sign on as trainers and a facility in place when Marisol had gotten sick. He’d gotten an extended leave to care for her, but when she died, there was no point in leaving the army. His dreams died with her and he wanted nothing more than

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to just go to work every day and be surrounded by enough action that he didn’t have to think. He still needed that distraction. And Bryan was a grown man about to have his own family now. He’d be fine without Trent. His thoughts flicked to Mila as they had so many times in the last couple days. Something about her, the heat of her, just swallowed him up. It was like his motherboard fried whenever she was around. All rational thought flew out the window in the face of her unrelenting sexuality and the parts of himself he’d turned off for the past two years sizzled back to life. And that was before he’d even touched her. When he put his hands on her and rubbed her slick pussy, so hot and wet for him, it almost brought him to his knees. And when he bit her and she moaned, and he knew he wouldn’t have to be gentle—that he could fuck her hard and squeeze her tight, and wrap her gorgeous hair in his hand and pull, and she just might like it? He almost came in his pants. Even now his cock swelled at the thought of it. With a groan, he threw on his coat. He briefly considered driving, but Bryan would need someone to drive his car, and the walk to O’Toole’s in the cold would do him some good. By the time he got there, the place was packed. Seamus bustled behind the bar, but the old man’s eyes lit up when he saw Trent. “Ah, hey there, boyo! I was hoping you’d make it by. I hope you’re driving tonight?” “That bad?” “Oh no, just good, clean fun is all. He’s in great spirits. Hah! Get it, great spirits?” Trent couldn’t help but grin at the old man’s obvious joy over his little pun. “Good one. I’ll stick with a club soda, then. You have his keys, I hope?”

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Seamus reached under the bar and a moment later tossed Bryan’s keys to him. As he waited for his drink, he glanced around the room and saw Bryan in the game area. The juke box was in full swing and there were a crowd of people on the dance floor. Seamus handed him his soda and Trent made his way to the game room. As he passed by the dance floor, the profile of a familiar face caught his eye. He lifted a hand to wave. “Hey, Chuck,” he called. “Hey, Trent.” The guy was grinning ear to ear and pointed in front of him. Chuck was huge so Trent had to crane his neck to get a look around him. Mila. He was dancing with Mila. Shock warred with fury as he strode onto the dance floor. The smile slid off Chuck’s face and he stepped back. “Dude, you okay?” “Fine,” he growled. “The lady and I have something to discuss.” “Hello, Trent,” she said, her voice cool. “Listen, I’m not trying to get into the middle of anything,” Chuck said as he started walking backward. “It’s not you, we’re good. Tell Bryan I’ll be back in a few.” Trent took hold of Mila’s hand and pulled her toward the back exit. “Let go.” He ignored her and kept pushing through the crowd. They reached the door to the alley and he shoved it open and stepped out into the icy night air. “First of all, my coat’s inside. Second of all, what the hell are you manhandling me for?” He took a deep breath and blew it out in a stream of white. It was cold. He shrugged his coat off and wrapped it around her bare shoulders. “Who wears a tank top in the middle of winter, anyway?” He could have bitten off his tongue. Why did he even care what she was wearing? 52

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“I had a sweater on over it but got hot from dancing, not that it’s any of your business.” She pulled the coat closer around her. “What do you want?” “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at the Naughty Kitty again. Why can’t I seem to get away from you?” He knew how irrational that sounded since he’d dragged her out here, but he was past the point of caring. He only had so much selfdiscipline and it was disintegrating faster than a cookie in milk. “Denny and I decided it would be better if we did a second show on Saturday night instead. And in case you hadn’t noticed, I was here first. I didn’t know you were coming until I saw Bryan and even then he said he didn’t think you were going to make it. As for yesterday, you came into the club I was performing at, then followed me to my dressing room. Why am I on trial here?” She stared up at him, confusion and anger clouding her dark eyes. Then, like magic, her face cleared, and she took a step forward to lay a hand on his chest. “You know what? This is all bluster. The fact is, you need to make up your mind. This is your last chance, Trent. I’m in town for two more nights and I don’t want to be alone. What you need to decide is whether those two nights are going to be spent with you, or with someone else.”

It was a gamble and she knew it. Granted, he’d already shown signs of possessiveness, and there was no question that he wanted her. But if he walked away, it would be almost impossible to backtrack and pick up the gauntlet she’d just thrown. She focused on him and tried to appear confident. This had to work. There was no plan C. It all hung on this moment, and she was stunned at how much the outcome mattered to her. She held her breath as she watched the emotions play over his face. Silence stretched until it became unbearable. “Fuck it,” he finally growled, then swooped down, slanting his mouth over hers in a brutal kiss. Her senses seared with the heat of it and she clung to him, afraid if she let go, he might change his mind. He was strong, and she didn’t hold back. She sucked his 53

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bottom lip into her mouth and bit down into the plumpness. He groaned and grabbed her hips, dragging her closer so he could grind against her. Mila lifted one leg high to wrap around his thigh and tilted upward to give him better access. Her skirt bunched around her hips as he took her leg in a bruising grip, anchoring her to him. He stepped forward, pinning her against the brick of the building. His cock, long and thick, pressed against the thin cotton of her underwear and a rush of moisture gathered to ease his way. “I need you inside me,” she murmured into his mouth. “Right here, I can’t wait.” She reached between them and fumbled with his zipper. He stilled for a long moment and she wondered if he had changed his mind. “Are you on the Pill?” She nodded, still wild with need. Trent blew out a relieved sigh. She wasn’t, but it didn’t matter. Fairy pregnancy required ritual. There was no chance of her getting pregnant in this situation and she was immune to STDs. “I get checked every six months on the job and haven’t slept with anyone since my wife. I’m clean.” She started to reassure him that she was as well, but he’d already moved on, bending to kiss her neck. She realized with a twinge of sadness that he didn’t care. His only thought was for her safety. He’d been on a path of self-destruction for so long, his own health was of no concern. His roaming hand caressing her hip distracted her from her thoughts. “I won’t be gentle, Mila,” he warned, the stark need on his face giving weight to his words. “I can’t be. You’ve been haunting me, driving me crazy.” His zipper finally gave way and his cock sprung free into her waiting hand. He was so hard, so hot, suddenly twenty degrees felt like eighty. She squeezed the length of him, working him up and down just for the sheer pleasure of it. He let out a shuddering breath and pushed her hand away. He reached between them and pulled her underwear to the side, running a finger along her heat. “God, I can’t wait to feel that pussy pulling on my cock. I wish I could 54

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clone myself so I could lick you and fuck you at the same time. Tell me, Mila, do you taste as good as you smell?” He lifted his fingers from her pussy to his mouth and tasted the moisture that gleamed there. “Jesus,” he groaned, then took his cock in hand and pressed the thick head against her entrance. “You ready for me?” There was no job, there was no mission, she was just a woman who wanted this man so bad. She wanted to scream, to beat her fists against his chest until he did what her body was begging him to do. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. And then he was there, filling her. He stilled, letting her adjust to his size. “I won’t go deeper until you say when.” “When!” He let out a rather pained-sounding crack of laughter. “Damn, you’re good for my ego.” She’d made him laugh. It was a heady feeling and she tamped it down, not wanting to explore just why that felt so damn good. The laughter broke off as she lifted her hips tentatively. Oh yeah. Her whole body bowed around him as she took the length of him. Snug against him, she couldn’t move much but grabbed his ass with both hands and urged him on. He responded, slowly at first, each thrust long and deep. “If I knew it would be this good—Ah fuck, Mila, you’re so tight.” His words sent a thrill through her. She wanted to thrill him right back. “Next time I want your cock in my mouth. Can I do that?” He threw his head back, the cords of his neck tight as he gritted his teeth. “Oh yeah. The night we met, that’s all I could think about. I couldn’t take it. I jerked off like a teenager and imagined I was coming with those sweet lips wrapped around me.”

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His hips began to piston harder, taking her deeper, almost to the point of pain. It was overwhelming, it was sublime and every time he pulled away she had to bite back a sob. He tore the coat away from her chest with his free hand and cupped her breast, teasing her nipple as he flexed deep. She quivered as the heat pulsed in her belly, a hum building to a roar. “Take it, Mila. I want to feel your pussy clenching my cock when you come. That’s it,” he crooned as she edged closer with his words. “Yeah,” he groaned as he pinched her nipple, hard this time. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as the pleasure-pain shot straight to her pussy. “Oh damn, Trent,” she whimpered, gasping as wave after wave sucked her under, her pussy pulsing over his length tighter and tighter. He was relentless, his thick cock pounding into her, riding her through the storm as she shattered around him. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as the climax barreled through her. Aftershocks still rocked her when he stiffened and clamped his mouth over hers in a gnashing of teeth and tongue. He moaned low in his throat as his big, hard body tensed and quaked, his cock leaping and jerking deep inside her. Her arms were locked around him and he held her hips in his crushing grip. She reveled in his strength and tried not to think past this moment. “Are you okay? I’m sorry if I hurt you. It—it’s been a long time,” he said as he released her and stepped back. She groaned as his cock, still semi-hard, slid from her pussy. “It’s okay. I liked it.” That was the understatement of the year, but she wasn’t feeling herself at that moment. She fussed with her skirt as he zipped up. She came. With a man. In a matter of five minutes, and it was good.

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Maybe it was his confidence, or the fact he was probably one of the few men in the world that was as tough as she was. Or maybe it was his strong, capable hands. Maybe it was just that she’d never felt safe enough to let go before. Whatever it was, he had it in spades and she didn’t know how she was going to walk away knowing she might never find it again. “Mila, I—” Her heart sank, but she was saved from the “It’s not you, it’s me” as the door next to her creaked and swung open, slamming against the bricks. Pretty Boy and three of his friends stepped into the alley. The last one turned and shut the door behind him. This wasn’t good. Mila’s brain raced to come up with a plan to get them out of this without revealing herself or anyone getting hurt. That hardly seemed likely. These boys hadn’t come out here to play backgammon. “We were just heading back in,” Mila said, grabbing Trent’s hand and trying to yank him toward the door. Trent didn’t budge, his jaw tense. “Why don’t you go ahead, and I’ll catch up with you.” He met her gaze with his own, urging her to obey. “I don’t think so, tough guy. When Scotty told me you came out here together, I thought, no way. That guy sure as hell doesn’t like girls, I could tell that the other night. He’s got no use for that hot little piece. But he was sure it was you, and he was right. Now it’s time for your girl to see exactly how tough you are. When we’re done with you, maybe we’ll let her back inside.” Pretty Boy turned to face Mila, his gaze sweeping over her from head to toe. “Then again, maybe we won’t.” She tried to think rationally, but her usually cool, calm demeanor had a desperate edge to it. She was afraid. Not for herself, but for Trent. It had been eighteen years since she had cared enough to worry about a man. And that last man had been her father before he’d turned her away when she came of age and was called to fill her destiny.

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Mila tried to refocus and overcome her rioting emotions to look at the problem clinically. Even though there was no chance of her being raped—she could stop them from touching her with a flick of her fingertips—this was still a very sticky situation. She couldn’t really just start flashing magic around in public to circumvent a brawl. Still, she could help Trent fight if he needed it. She didn’t know how she would fare against men that size, but she kicked the crap out of all the bags in the gym. She’d just have to wait and see how it played out. There was no more time to think as two of the guys rushed at Trent and fists started flying. Trent dodged the first blow, landing a solid uppercut to the larger of his assailants, who crumpled to the ground. The second guy took a wild swing and Trent launched a stunning kick to his stomach, causing him to double over. Maybe she wouldn’t have to interfere after all. Trent was a stone-cold bad ass. She stood at the ready, just in case. Mila’s pulse jack-hammered as Pretty Boy and lackey number three came at him. These two coordinated their efforts more efficiently and Trent took a hard shot to the jaw, knocking him back a few feet. Mila’s heart seemed to stop for a moment, but started pumping again as he regained his balance and came forward, his face a mask of icy fury and determination. He bent low and ran in, knocking one to the ground with a grunt. Only Pretty Boy remained standing, and they faced off. Trent’s fist was like lightning as it shot out in front of him in a crisp jab. Pretty Boy’s head snapped back and his nose exploded in a spray of blood. He stumbled, but remained upright. Trent moved in to finish him when a flash of silver caught Mila’s eye. One of the guys on the ground had apparently gotten his second wind. Just as Trent loosed a vicious blow to Pretty Boy’s chin that sent him flat on his ass, a rusty pipe whistled through the air, cracking Trent in the forehead. As the pipe arced toward Trent a second time, rage and fear coalesced into blind panic. Lifting a hand, she sent a blast of energy at the chest of the man wielding the 58

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weapon. The force threw him back ten feet and he smacked against the side of the building with a scream. She kept her hand raised as she bent to see to Trent on his knees staring at her, eyes wide. “What the fuck was that?” he demanded, his voice hoarse with disbelief. Her stomach flipped as her adrenaline started to stabilize. Her terror that he might have been seriously injured had overridden her common sense. She could have at least made an effort to cover up the magic. She could have conjured a stone to throw…something. “Let’s get you home. We can talk about it there, okay?” She stripped off his coat, pulled off her tank top and pressed it to his bleeding forehead. “Put pressure.” She wrapped his coat around herself again and helped him to his feet. “Can you walk?” “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He glanced around the alley where the four men slowly began to stir. “They’re all alive and a couple of them will be ready for another round in a minute or two. We need to get out of here.” She pulled him down the alley toward the parking lot as she reached in his coat pocket for his keys. “Which one is yours?” “Black Chrysler. Not mine, though. And Bryan needs me to drive him home, I can’t—” “I’ll take care of it.” She opened the passenger door and pressed him back into the seat. “Be right back.” She ran into the bar and explained the situation to Seamus. “Can you keep an eye on Bryan and call them a cab when they’re ready to leave? Use this to pay for it.” She handed him a fifty. “Call Trent’s cell if he gives you any trouble.” Seamus held her gaze for long moment before handing the money back to her. “Will do, lass. You’ll take care of our boy, won’t you?”

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Something about his stare gave her pause. She shook off the eerie feeling and responded, “I’ll do my very best for him.” “That’ll do, then.” He nodded and waved her out the door. A minute later, she was back, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Mila, I’m fine to drive, just a little woozy.” “You probably have a concussion. I’m sure I already know the answer, but would you consider letting me take you to the hospital?” She slid the keys into the ignition with a shaky hand. “I’ve had two concussions, and survived just fine. I just need to chill for an hour or so. But what happened back there—” “Enough. We can talk about it after I see to your head, okay?” He nodded, wincing at the movement before resting his head back against the seat cushion. He gave her directions to his house, and ten minutes later she had him seated on the toilet as she cleaned out the gash on his forehead. “When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?” “Recently. Got caught by some barbed wire on my last tour.” She pressed an alcohol-soaked pad to the area one last time and then patted it dry with some gauze before bandaging it. “Could probably use a few stitches.” “It’ll be fine. Not like I’m entering any beauty contest any time soon.” “Take a couple of aspirin. You’ve got a knot growing already and it’s got to hurt.” He pointed to the medicine cabinet behind her. Mila pulled down the bottle and shook three into his hand. She handed him a paper cup full of water and he drank them down.

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“I know you’re going to want to argue, but if you won’t let me take you to the hospital then at least let me stay here on the couch for the night. I need to keep an eye on you and wake you every hour to make sure you don’t have a concussion.” To her surprise, he nodded. “I have guest room you can stay in. You just have to put some sheets on the bed. They’re in the closet in the hall.” She turned to go get her bed situated when his voice stopped her. “We had a rough night and I’ll be the first to admit, I’ve felt better. But come morning, we need to talk. About a lot of things, okay?” Relief swamped her. “Yeah, okay.” That bought her a few hours at least. She needed to think about what to tell him. And more importantly she needed to figure out what the hell to do next.

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Chapter Five Trent awoke to a featherlight kiss on his forehead. The smell of lilacs filled his senses and he groaned. “Just checking, go back to sleep,” Mila whispered. It was still dark out, but light from the hallway cast a warm glow. As his eyes adjusted, he could see that she was wearing one of his button-down shirts. The throbbing in his head moved to his heart and he closed his eyes to shut out the sight. The last time he’d seen a woman in his clothes was almost three years ago, before Marisol had gotten sick. “You want some more aspirin?” “I’m okay.” In truth his head felt better than he’d expected. The blow had connected, but not nearly as solidly as it might have. He’d been really lucky. And then, even luckier when Mila— He pushed the thought away, not ready to face that tangled mess of confusion. She’d made it to the doorway before, helpless to stop himself, he called to her. “I know I’m confusing you. I’m confused too. But I want to thank you for staying, and for everything.” The admission cost him, and he lay there feeling pretty stupid and really vulnerable. “No problem.” She shut the door as she left, but the scent of lilacs stayed behind and he breathed in deep as his eyes began to drift shut.

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Trent didn’t even realize he’d fallen back asleep until a sound awoke him. He opened his eyes and peered around the room, listening intently. There it was again, another soft moan. Mila. Was she having a nightmare or getting sick? Ignoring the dull ache in his head, he rose to his feet. He slipped on a pair of boxers before heading to the hallway. He stood outside the guest room door for a moment before turning the knob and peeking in. The room was awash in moonlight. Mila lay on the bed, sheets and covers in a tangle on the opposite side. She was entirely bare, dusky, hard nipples standing out in stark relief against her golden skin. Her head was thrown back, inky hair spread across the pillow. Her left hand clutched a handful of blankets tightly. And her right hand moved oh-so-delicately between her thighs. His mouth went dry and his cock sprang to life as if it were on a timer. She purred low in her throat and his muscles tensed. He closed his eyes, trying to force some blood back to his brain, to get a grasp of some coherent thought. Was she even awake? Walk away. She whimpered. His eyes snapped opened as he moved helplessly toward the bed, dread and need churning in his gut. Hadn’t he gotten her out of his system? She must have sensed his presence because a moment later her eyelids fluttered. Her chest heaved as her confused gaze locked with his. She snatched her hand from her sex and fumbled for the blanket. “I-I guess I was having a dream. I’m so sorry I woke you.” “Don’t stop,” he heard himself mutter. “I want to watch you.” He wasn’t asking. If they were going to do this, it was going to be on his terms.

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He slipped one hand down the front of his boxer shorts, drawing out his already stiff cock. He was elated as she slipped her hand back into her folds and found her clit, falling into a rhythm, never taking her eyes off him. “I was dreaming about you. About us.” He followed her every move as she slid her free hand up to cover one breast, caressing her nipple. Sexy. So damn sexy. He began to work his cock up and down in long, even strokes. Her hips began to bounce as her hand moved faster. Her eyes drifted shut, her muscles tensing until Trent gripped her wrist, halting her ministrations. “Uh uh, sweetheart. I appreciate the show, but it’s going to be me who makes you come.” She tugged to free herself of him, but he didn’t release her. She gave him a haughty glare. “You’re injured.” “I’m fine. Don’t cut off your nose to spite your face, Mila. Tell me you don’t want it.” She hesitated, then lowered her gaze to his cock. She wet her lips with the tip of a pink tongue and his shaft surged in response. “First I want you to take me in your mouth.” She kept her eyes on him as she wriggled closer to the edge of the bed. “Open.” She ran her hand down his abdomen, tracing his tattoo with light fingers. Then she complied, wetting her lips to take him in. It took all his strength not to bury his cock deep in her throat. Gentle, he warned himself. 64

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He pressed the swollen head to her lips and froze as she covered it with soft, sucking kisses. Her tongue swirled over the tip and he groaned. He let go of her wrist and slipped his hand into her silky hair, urging her to take him deeper. She didn’t hesitate, and worked him into her hot mouth until he felt her throat close on his cock in a snug embrace. He choked out a curse and used his grip on her hair to pull her back while he tried to regain some self-control. She fought him, anchoring him to her with a grip around his thighs and using her tongue to massage him. Helpless against the onslaught, he flexed his hips restlessly as the need uncurled in his belly. She slid him almost all the way out before sucking him hard and deep again. She met his eyes in the dim light as she sucked him off, and he wondered if he would ever forget the sight. Her head bobbing between his legs, her plump lips brushing against his cock, glossy from her mouth and tongue. He closed his eyes to block out the view, because if not, he was going to blow it right into her mouth and he still hadn’t tasted that sweet pussy yet. Suddenly, that seemed to be an immediate necessity. He pulled back, circling her wrist to escape her grasp. She released him but ran her tongue down the length of his cock one more time for good measure. “Nice,” she whispered. “God, you don’t know how happy it makes me that you think so.” He pushed her onto her back and lifted her hand high above her head. “Lift your other arm,” he ground out. She did. And she took his breath away. “Look at you. What the hell do you want with a guy like me? I’m broken, fucked-up beyond repair.” “Looks can be deceiving. I don’t think we’re all that different on the inside.”

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His gaze swept her again, and he shuddered as he nodded. “Seeing you like this, I can think of a hundred things I want to do to you, with you. The alley barely scratched the surface.” “You’re wasting time.” She wriggled to the center of the bed, arms still raised. He thrust off his boxers in one move and an instant later, he was on her. He aligned his hips against hers, her belly pressing against his cock. He lifted his torso, dipping his head to take her mouth with his. Her scent enveloping, wrapping around him like a sensual blanket. He pulled back, his breathing labored as he pressed his forehead to hers. His voice was low and hoarse. “All night I thought of this. From the second I laid eyes on you, I wanted to slide my cock into that wet pussy over and over and watch your eyes go wild when you came. I want that so bad I can taste it.” He slid a knee between her thighs and spread her legs open, then reached between them, covering her core with his hand. Her back bowed in response and a charge of heat blasted through him. Trent let out a long hiss. “You’re killing me.” He thrust himself away from her and pressed nipping kisses down her neck to her breasts, making a path to her hip. He rested his head on her hip and covered her pubic bone with his palm. She wriggled her hips in approval. She was smooth down there but for a thin strip of down, and he ached to feel her against his mouth. Would she clamp her thighs around his face when she came? His cock jerked at the thought, and he was damn sure going to find out. He leaned down and kissed her lightly, then settled in to run his tongue up her damp crease. When he reached her clit he closed his lips over it and began rubbing rhythmically with his tongue. She quivered and her muscles grew taut under his hands. She whimpered, writhing, trying to move close to him; to urge him to finish it. A surge of satisfaction

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pulsed through him and at that moment, his only purpose in life was to make her scream. He trailed his hand along the inside of her smooth thigh until he came close enough to feel the heat coming off her pussy. He traced her lips with his fingertips, then slid two deeper, pressing them into her wet warmth. She cried at the invasion, showing him with her body that she wanted more. “Deeper,” she demanded. Her curt command made his cock surge and he complied, sliding two fingers deep into her tight channel. He retracted, then thrust deep again, loving the feel of her, the taste of her. She thrust her hips up, grinding against his face as he increased the pressure of his mouth, sucking, licking, pulling. And then she froze as inner tremors racked her. He steeled himself for the onslaught, hoping he could keep himself from coming on the sheets like a teenager. Then she splintered under his hands, spasms taking her as she cried out his name. Her moisture rained down his fingers. Her heat filled his mouth. Her screams filled his ears. He closed his eyes as her pussy clenched tightly on his fingers, tried not to imagine that it was his cock. Tried to hold it together for just a minute more. The spasms quieted and she stilled as she fought for breath. He pushed himself onto all fours and crawled up the length of her body until they were face-to-face. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes shined. “Fine job, soldier.” He gave her a pained smile. “Thank you, ma’am. But we’re not finished yet.” “Is your head okay?” she asked, concern lining her face. He’d actually forgotten all about it. “That one’s fine. This one could use some TLC.” He took her hand in his and guided her to his cock. She grinned and wrapped her fingers around him and he groaned. “You don’t know what you’ve done,” she said, her voice soft.

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He tried to focus on her words, but she was working his cock like it was her job, and he was having some trouble. “What have I done?” he managed. “I have a hard time letting go. So typically I don’t…enjoy the experience to its fullest.” He grabbed her hand with his own and held her still. “So, you’re telling me you don’t come?” “Not with other people present,” she said, her expression guarded. How could a man be with a woman like this and expect to keep her if he couldn’t seal the deal? Part of him felt bad for her previous experiences, the other part wanted to beat his chest and crow like a rooster. “I’m glad I didn’t disappoint you. Let’s see if we can make it a double feature.” He nudged forward an inch, then two, until he could feel her slick folds. She guided him in, taking his length with a shuddering sigh. He pulled back then began the heavenly slide back in. H e gritted his teeth against the sensual friction, struggling for control. M ila reached back, snaking her hands dow n his back to cover his ass, then pulled him into her until he w as buried to the hilt. They began to rock as one, slow and steady. H e tipped his head to take a tight nipple into his mouth, and nearly exploded as her slick inner w alls squeezed him in response. H e moved too, matching her rhythm w ith long, slow , deep strokes. They moved faster, and he bent his head to lick and suck her nipple as he plunged into her again and again. “ A h, Trent!” She tightened around him like a fist, pulsing over him in w aves. H e squeezed his eyes shut as his cock sw elled and a dull ache rode low in his balls. She w ent w ild beneath him, rolling her hips and w riggling as she came, calling his name. She dug her nails into his back and he lost it. Trent pounded into her, faster and deeper until his body convulsed and hot cum spurted from his cock. H e groaned her name as he emptied himself into her sweet heat. 68

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***** An hour later Mila stirred, and stretched. Her body felt fantastic. She reached for Trent but the other side of the bed was empty. “Hey.” He walked into the room with a steaming cup and knelt next to the bed. His eyes strayed from hers and traveled down the front of her naked body, then he leaned forward to press his lips to her navel. A warmth infused her from the inside out. Rubbing a stubble-roughened cheek against her belly, he groaned. “God, what is that smell? It never wears off. I can’t get it out of my head.” She barely resisted the urge to cradle his head to her, to melt for this man. “Lilacs,” she whispered. Each fairy had a distinct scent that was all their own. She’d never cared that a charge enjoyed hers before. The scent pleased her and that was all that mattered. But for some reason, with Trent, it thrilled her. “Your skin is so soft. I miss this, all of this, so much.” Her heart gave a squeeze for him. She didn’t respond, but this time she didn’t stop herself from slipping her fingers through his bristly hair. “I’d like to stay like this all day, but I can’t put it off any longer. It’ll drive me crazy. What was that last night?” She’d known it was coming. She was lucky she’d gotten the time with him that she had, but it didn’t make it any easier. She took a deep breath. “Before we can talk, I need you to sign something.” He shot her a baffled look. “It’s part of a contract we usually ask people to sign. In your case, this is just the non-disclosure section. It basically says that anything I tell you right now won’t go beyond this room without…consequences.” She’d worked on how to explain this all night long, but floundered in the face of his confusion. Dammit, she was supposed to be helping him, not hurting him. 69

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His eyes narrowed. “Is that a threat?” She unfolded herself from his grasp and crossed the room to get her purse. “No. Just read the agreement and I’ll explain everything.” She handed over a single sheet of paper and an elaborate gold pen. He stood and held her gaze for another moment before looking down at the sheet in his hand. A minute later, he barked out a laugh. “Jesus, Mila, this cloak and dagger bullshit is over the top. If I tell anyone what we talk about you’re going to wipe my memory? What, do you work for the KGB or something?” “I want nothing more than to answer your questions, but until you sign, I can’t. I’m sorry.” She struggled to keep her voice firm despite the fact she was trembling. He held out a hand and she gave him her pen. Shaking his head, he scrawled his signature on the page. “This better be good.” Better just to tear it off, like a bandage. She kept her tone even and calm and said, “I’m a fairy and I was sent here to help you move past the loss of your wife.” He stared at her, nonplussed, and she waited for it to sink in. “A fairy.” She tipped her head in acknowledgement and braced herself for the recriminations. But he surprised her as a thoughtful recognition filled his face. She could almost hear his synapses firing as his quick mind turned the evidence this way and that. “Okay,” he said with a slight nod. “Okay. Show me.” She lifted a hand and touched it to her hair, turning it a glossy lavender. He didn’t say anything for a long time. She imagined it took a little while to accept that everything you held to be true was different than you thought it was. The world had just taken a very strange turn and it was a lot to take in. Some people, like her father, refused to accept it, ever. Her stomach churned. “And unicorns, leprechauns, Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy? All real?”

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“No.” She bit back a smile. “Not unicorns.” She felt faint with relief that he seemed to be handling the news all right, and then his jaw tensed. “So this—this isn’t real?” “No, I’m very real,” she said. “This is real.” The hand that had been absently caressing her stomach stilled. “That’s not what I meant. I know it happened, but you and me—” His gaze grew cold. “It’s hard to explain how it works, but Bryan wished for me to come and help you. And he doesn’t know it, but his wish came true. Trent, I was sent to remind you what it was like to want and be wanted. What it was like to have that first kiss, and feel the excitement of infatuation and fun again. That was my mission, but from the beginning, when I first saw you, I was drawn to you. I can’t explain it.” He ignored her words, and pressed her. “So this is what you do. You’re basically a magical hooker? You just go around banging poor sad sacks like me back into happiness again, is that it? I can see why they chose you.” His voice had begun to escalate. “But what I can’t see is how this was supposed to help me. Can you tell me that, Magical Mila? How this was supposed to heal me? Because right now I feel worse than before. Right now, just when I thought I could see a light at the end of the tunnel, I find out that it wasn’t a light at all. It was just some stupid fucking firefly.” Mila tried to swallow past the lump in her throat, to respond, but no words would come. He raked a hand through his short hair. “Before you came around, I knew that life was going to suck. But you made me think that just maybe I could find a new kind of happy. And maybe what we had was new, and maybe I didn’t know where it was going yet but you gave me a spark of hope. That’s gone now. I would have been better off left in the dark.”

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His words rained down on her like blows and she clutched her stomach to ease the nausea that threatened. “It’s not like that. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. And you gave me hope too.” Trent reeled around and stood toe-to-toe with her. “Please. Now you’re Julia Roberts. The hooker with the heart of gold who actually fell for one of her johns? Don’t try to sell me any more of your goods, Mila. I think I’ve had my fill.” The pain in his face was almost too much to bear and tears clouded her vision. There was nothing she could say to fix this, and still, she had to try. “I don’t have a heart of gold and never claimed to. But I swear I never meant to hurt you. And whatever feelings you have for me, I have for you too. Can’t—” “Had.” “What?” “Had. Whatever feelings I had for you. Every second we’ve spent together has been a lie, and you need to go back to wherever you came from.” She couldn’t speak, and there was nothing left to say anyway. She turned away from him and with a flick of her fingertips, she was gone.

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Chapter Six Trent sat at the bar sipping a club soda waiting for Bryan to finish saying his goodbyes to the other guests. It was the night of the rehearsal dinner and they’d just finished a warm, homey meal that Seamus had insisted on providing as his wedding gift. It had tasted like cardboard to Trent, but everyone else said it was great. He couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there. A hearty slap on the back jarred him from his thoughts. “Hey there, boyo. How you feeling tonight?” “Just fine, Seamus. It was a great thing you did for Bryan, I know how much he appreciates it.” “It was the least I could do. You boys are the closest thing I have to family.” “You too, old man. And if you ever need anything you know you can count on us.” “Glad you mentioned it, son. See, there is something I’ve been wanting, but the type I am is that I can’t ask for a favor without giving a favor.” Trent sent him a puzzled look. He would have hoped after all these years that Seamus would know there wasn’t much Trent wouldn’t do for him. “It’s not a contest, Seamus. We don’t keep tabs. We’re family.” And damn if that didn’t feel good to say. “Be that as it may, ’tis my nature and there’s no changing it now. I’m an old goat. Now then, for the favor you’re owing me. You need to get that fairy girl back. And right quick, before she smartens up and decides she won’t have you.” Trent nearly did a spittake, but managed to swallow the soda in his mouth, along with a chunk of ice that took a second to go down. “I know all about it, son. In fact, I know you’re not going to like this, but I may have had a hand in it.”

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Trent opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t figure what to ask first. All that came out was “How…” “I’m what you might call a special sort of Irishman. Now, I can’t be getting into specifics, but ’tis enough to say that I’ve a certain place in lore same as your Mila, only different. You understand?” Trent squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Was his godfather really telling him he was a leprechaun? What kind of crazy town had he stepped into? He thought back to what Mila had said, and shook his head ruefully. “Right. She only said no to the unicorns. So did you know what she was all along?” “Of course I did. I’m the one who got her here.” “She said Bryan was responsible.” “Ah, is that what the old battle-axe is telling her? I knew she wouldn’t tell the truth of it. Her pride is positively sinful.” Now the old man was rambling and Trent couldn’t keep up. “Whose?” “Lucienne. The Fairy Queen. Once a year we have a grand ball for the fae aristocracy. We had a mean game of Wish Poker going. Lucienne and I were heads up for the tournament title when she went all in with a set of mermaids. I’d made quad harpies and won Lucienne’s wish.” Understanding dawned on Trent as he watched the old man swell with pride. “And you used your wish on me.” Seamus just pressed his finger to his nose and gave a wink. “But if you’re magic, why didn’t you just—” “Ah! But there’s the rub, isn’t it? I can only grant wishes, I can’t make wishes. So as much as I wanted you to move on, you weren’t ready. If I’d have told you of the magical world and offered a wish, what would you have wished for?” “Marisol,” he replied without hesitation. 74

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Seamus sighed deeply, his bright blue eyes dimming. “And there it is. The one thing I couldn’t give you. I don’t have that kind of power, lad. None of us do. I’m so sorry. We all loved her. She was such a sweet soul. But she’s gone now and forever. And she would want you to be happy again.” Would Marisol have approved of Mila? Trent wondered for the first time. He thought she would have. She would have admired her fearlessness, and been in awe of her kickass attitude. They were like night and day, the two. Life with Marisol had been sweet, like lazy days in hammocks and summer rain. Just four days with Mila and it was wild, like cliff diving into the Pacific Ocean and tropical storms. And over the last twenty-four hours, he’d started to realize that his life had been meaningless since Marisol had died. He had been blessed with good health and life and he was squandering it away, going through the motions. She had told him before she died, in no uncertain terms, that she wanted him to remarry someday. How did his actions so far honor her memory or her wishes for him? He should recognize what a beautiful gift life was, and grab it by the balls. In just a few short days, Mila had given him more happiness, more excitement, more nerves, more frustration, made him feel more alive than he had in years. And wasn’t that what it was all about? Maybe he could fall in love again. Before he could even get his mind around that, a terrible thought occurred to him. He took a deep breath, hoping he was wrong. “Wait, can she even be with me? Can fairies and people be together like that for real?” Seamus met his gaze steadily. “She would have to give up her job, but aye, she can.” Trent recoiled. “How could I even ask her to do that? Especially when I have nothing to offer her yet. We haven’t known each other that long. It would be a total leap of faith, and after the things I said to her…do you know her? Did you know her before this?” “No, no. I just told Lucienne to send the best. And she did. The lass is a dream, isn’t she?” 75

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Trent nodded. “That she is. Do you think she would even consider it after how I treated her?” “Just like all matters of the heart, it’s a gamble. But maybe we can stack the deck in your favor, if you’re sure you want her. Are you sure you want her?” He thought for a moment and realized just how much he did. He nodded. “So let’s go and get her, shall we?”

***** Mila was setting up chairs in the center of one of the smaller training facilities. She hoped to teach the more advanced girls some of the moves she learned at the Naughty Kitty. It had been two days since she’d left Trent and while she was sad, she couldn’t bring herself to regret having met him. He gave her hope that men with honor and strength—and the ability to make her come her brains out—existed somewhere in the world. Her body tingled at the memory. After he got over his initial shock and anger, she hoped that he too could look back at their time together and see that it had changed him. That maybe it was worth it to give love another try, even if it wasn’t with her. At the end of the day, it was all that mattered. She shoved back the sadness that threatened to engulf her. She’d been as bad as Trent. No one had loved her since she was a child and she hadn’t realized that she’d been closing herself off to even the possibility. No more. Once she got over the heartache of this, she was going to jump in without a parachute and open herself to finding love. She ignored the twinge inside that told her she’d already found and lost it. A knock sounded and Mila padded to the door in her bare feet. Lucienne stood before her, looking annoyed and put out. She swept into the room and waited for Mila to acknowledge her.

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“Good afternoon, Your Highness. I wasn’t expecting you.” Mila tried to keep her tone respectful, but she resented the unannounced visit. She had a schedule to keep and after the lie Lucienne had told her to get her to take on Trent’s case, she wasn’t feeling magnanimous toward the Queen. “We won’t be long. You have visitors.” Before Mila could even respond, Trent and Seamus walked in. Mila blinked hard, but there they stood. Her hands trembled as she tried to piece the puzzle together. “As you now know, Seamus here is one of us. An earl in the leprechaun community.” She said “earl” but it might as well have been “snake” considering the venom she spat it with. Chin so high in the air Mila wondered if she could even see them, she continued. “Apparently, my generous gift of a wish was not enough, so he’s worked up the gall to ask for a second boon. Trent would like some time to speak with you alone.” Lucienne turned and left without another word. “She’s a right charmer, that one.” Seamus shot Mila a smile and a wink as he followed. The door closed behind them and she and Trent faced off. God, he looked good. She turned away before she had a chance to make a fool of herself. “I'm sorry.” Her heart leapt and she whirled back to face him. “Why are you sorry? I lied to you. I’m the one who’s sorry.” “Oh, you should be sorry too,” he said with a half-smile. “But I had no right to say the things I said to you. I didn’t mean any of it. I’m just still really fucked-up.” “Welcome to the club. But truly, I never meant to hurt you.” “You were just doing your job. I can’t say I enjoyed being lied to, but I do understand it. This is who you are.”

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He’d come to tell her he forgave her. Even more stunning, he came to tell her he accepted what she was. Her eyes stung at his words. How easily they rolled off his tongue. What she would have given to have had that understanding from her father when she’d first turned, when she was so afraid and confused, she didn’t know how she would go on. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that. And your forgiveness is far more than I deserve.” She bit her lip to keep herself from adding, “But not nearly all that I would wish for.” She should just be happy he didn’t hate her. And at the end of the day, if he was admitting he had a problem, maybe he was finally ready to start healing and move on. She’d done her job. Fresh tears filled her eyes and she tried to blink them away. “So maybe now you can try to find someone who makes you happy again.” “Yeah, well, like I said, I’m still kind of fucked-up. I have a long way to go. In fact, a woman would have to be crazy to get involved with me.” He stepped closer and lifted her chin with a finger. “Do you know anyone like that?” Mila’s stomach bottomed out as his words sank in. “I might.” She swallowed hard past the lump lodged in her throat. “Does that mean you want me to get involved with you?” He met her gaze with his clear gray eyes and nodded. “Yeah, I do. I don’t know how to be in a relationship anymore and I don’t know how to let go of all of the guilt just yet. But I’m getting there.” Her pulse skittered as she tried to be cool and not let the happiness bubble over. His expression grew even more solemn. “I know this would mean you wouldn’t be able to do this job anymore, and I haven’t exactly earned the right to ask that of you, so I’ll understand if you won’t. Can’t.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot and looked away. “I will. I can. I mean, I don’t even have to. Once I got back and pressed her over it, Lucienne finally told me the truth. I was pissed and in order to smooth things over she 78

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created a new official position for me. Meet the new Naughty Godtrainer.” She executed a neat curtsy. “I want you to know that, before you, I hadn’t had a charge in over a year, and even then I didn’t have a lot of physical contact with them. The point was to teach them to seduce. I took you on a special request because I knew from the second I laid eyes on you that I wanted to be a part of your life, somehow.” She took his hand in hers and squeezed. “I’m so relieved I don’t have to share you. Even if you didn’t want them, I was having a hard time getting my head around you teaching other men about women.” “I get that.” Instead of that pissing her off, it actually made her feel warm all over. He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. She burrowed in close and he pressed a kiss to her head. “You look cute in your bare feet with your workout clothes on.” She let out a snort. “You don’t know me at all if you think that I would take that as a compliment. We’re going to have to work on that.” “You look sweet and vulnerable. I kind of like it. I think you should let yourself be cute a little more often.” “I’m a work in progress, don't push it.” “I know what you mean, and so am I. But I want to try and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather try with. It’s going to be a wild ride. I don’t even know what I’m going to do next. Maybe get out of the army, try something new…” “Doesn’t matter. I can be where you are in the blink of an eye. We’ll make it work, okay?” “Okay.” “Since we’re not making any decision right now, maybe we can spend a little time getting to know each other better. For instance, I got to see you fight. I happen to know some moves myself. Wanna spar?”

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Chloe Cole

He backed away and began to circle around her, his eyes burning bright. “Sure. Let’s make it interesting. Five rounds. Loser of each has to shed a piece of clothing. Winner’s choice.” A thrill coursed through her as she raised her hands, preparing for battle. Oh yeah, it was going to be a wild ride.

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About the Author Chloe Cole is happily married and lives in Pennsylvania with her wonderful husband and a pack of teenage boys. She loves to play poker and fantasy football. If she weren’t a writer, she would definitely be a cat burglar. Or a ninja. She also writes steamy paranormal and steampunk romance novels under the pen name Christine Bell. Someday she hopes to publish something her dad can read without wanting to poke his eyes out with sharp sticks. She loves to hear from her readers!

Chloe welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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Also by Chloe Cole Naughty Godmother Unwrapping Lily

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