About the Author

KATE HOFFMANN has been writing for Mills & Boon since 1993. She’s published sixty titles, most with the Blaze® imprint. Kate lives in south-eastern Wisconsin with her cats, Tally and Chloe, and her trusty computer. When she’s not writing, she works with local school students in music and drama activities. She enjoys talking to her sister on the phone, reading Vanity Fair magazine, eating Thai food and travelling to Chicago to see Broadway musicals.

Dear Reader,

The Charmer marks my sixtieth title. It’s difficult to believe I’ve reached that milestone. It seems like just yesterday I was sending off my first manuscript and hoping that a publisher might be interested!

I’ve loved writing stories for Mills & Boon readers and I hope to continue to do so for many years to come. I’ve been lucky to find a home here, now with the Blaze® line, and you’ve helped by watching and waiting for my stories—especially for the Quinns.

I also owe a special thanks to my ever-patient editor, Brenda Chin, who has been with me through most of these books and always helps me give you a story that you’ll enjoy.

So, this book is for you, the readers. Thank you for all your support over the years, for your letters and e-mails, and for the opportunity to do work that I love so much. There are two more books coming, The Drifter in March and The Sexy Devil in May, making this another trilogy.

Happy reading!

Kate Hoffmann

The Charmer

Kate Hoffmann

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For all my readers, everywhere!

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Epilogue

Copyright

Prologue

Angela@SmoothOperators.com

January 6, 5:30 a.m.

Heading out for my 7:00 a.m. interview on Daybreak Chicago. Hope you all remember to tune in. I’m a bit nervous, but excited at the same time. Call in with questions! I’ll post more later.

ANGELA WEATHERBY GLANCED up at her image in the video monitors, squinting into the bright television lights that illuminated the studio. She looked worried. Quickly, she pasted a cheery smile on her face.

The chance to make an appearance on Daybreak Chicago had seemed like a good idea when it had first been offered. But now, faced with the prospect of airing her dirty romantic laundry, Angie wasn’t so sure.

With her Web site, SmoothOperators.com, she could be anonymous, just another jilted lover with a score to settle. But on morning television, for all of Chicago to see, she might come off looking like a first-class bitch, out for revenge.

She glanced over at Celia Peralto, her Web master and best friend, who stood next to one of the cameramen. Ceci grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.

A sound technician approached her from behind and clipped a microphone to her collar. “Just tuck the wire under your hair,” he advised, “and set the pack on the chair next to you.” With trembling fingers, Angie did as she was told.

“Thirty seconds,” the producer called.

“Just relax,” the host said as she took her place in the opposite chair. “This isn’t the Spanish Inquisition. Just a fun segment on single life in Chicago. And it’s great publicity for your Web site—and for the book you’re planning to write.”

The book. Her publisher was expecting the manuscript in three months and though she had gathered all sorts of anecdotal research from her Web site, the book still had to be written.

“Good morning, Chicago! I’m Kelly Caulfield and I’m here with our next guest. About two years ago, Angela Weatherby founded a Web site called SmoothOperators.com and it has become a national sensation. What began as a way for single girls in Chicago to network over their dating horror stories has evolved into something akin to the FBI’s most-wanted list for naughty men.”

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” Angela said. “These men aren’t criminals.”

“I suspect some Chicago bachelorettes would disagree. Through the Web site, women are helping each other avoid those men who make dating miserable for all of us. And the trend is spreading—the site adds new cities every week. So, tell us, Angela, what gave you the idea for your Web site?”

Angie shifted in her chair, then drew a deep breath. If she just focused on answering the questions, her nerves would eventually calm. “After a series of not-sonice boyfriends, I felt there had to be a way for me to avoid guys who weren’t interested in an honest and committed relationship. I started blogging about it and before long I had over a thousand subscribers. They added their stories and my friend and Web master, Celia Peralto, put their comments into a database. Now, you can check out your date before you even step out the front door. As of last night, we have files on almost fifty thousand smooth operators in cities all over the country.”

“Don’t you think this is unfair to the men out there? An ex-girlfriend might not be the most objective person to provide commentary.”

“You’d check out the plumber you wanted to hire or the doctor you planned to visit, right? We offer information and leave it to our visitors to decide the truth in what they read. And I think we’re doing a service. We’ve even unmasked a number of cheating husbands.”

Kelly leaned forward in her chair. “Well, I looked up my cohost, Danny Devlin, and he wasn’t very well reviewed on your site. Your rating system goes from one to five broken hearts, with five being the worst. And he’s rated a four. Care to comment?”

Angela opened her mouth to reply, then snapped it shut. A glib answer here might turn the interview in a different direction. “Mr. Devlin is always welcome to defend himself. We’re open to differing opinions. We just require that the discourse be civilized.”

Kelly flipped to her next note card. “Well, that leads us to the book you’re writing. Tell us about that.”

Angela drew a deep breath and focused her thoughts. She’d practiced her pitch more than once in the mirror at home. “I hope the book will be a guide to the different species of smooth operators out there. Most of these men fall into one of ten or twelve categories. If women can learn to spot them quickly, maybe they’ll save themselves a bit of heartbreak.”

“And what professional credentials do you bring to the table?” Kelly asked.

“I have an undergraduate degree in psychology, a masters in journalism and experience as a freelance writer. And I’ve dated a lot of very smooth operators myself,” Angie replied, allowing herself a smile. “I’m curious as to why they behave the way they do, as are most women.”

“Let’s take a few questions from callers,” Kelly said. For the next three minutes, Angie jousted with a belligerent bachelor, commiserated with two women who’d just been dumped and fended off the evil glares of Danny Devlin, who had wandered back onto the set. When the six-minute segment was finally over, she sat back in her chair and breathed a sigh of relief.

“You were wonderful!” Kelly exclaimed, hopping out of her chair. “We’ll have to have you back again.”

“The switchboard went crazy,” the producer said as she walked onto the set. “The most calls we’ve ever had in this time slot. Let’s book another interview for next month. Maybe we can do a longer feature segment when the book comes out.”

Angie stood up and unclipped the microphone. “That would be lovely,” she murmured as she handed it to the sound technician. “Thank you. Is there anything else I need to do?”

“Get that book written,” Kelly said. “And personally, I think Danny Devlin deserves five broken hearts. He dumped me by e-mail.”

Angie crossed the studio to Ceci, then grabbed her arm and pulled her along toward the exit. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, tugging her coat on. “Before Danny Devlin corners me and demands that I take his profile off the site.”

The early morning air was frigid and the pavement slippery as they walked through the parking lot. When they reached the relative safety of Ceci’s car, Angie sat back in the seat and drew a long, deep breath. It clouded in front of her face as she slowly released it. “So, how was I? Tell me the truth. Did I come across as angry or bitter?”

“No, not at all,” Ceci said. “You were funny. And sweet. And just a little vulnerable, which was good. You were likeable.”

“I didn’t seem judgmental? I want people to look at the Web site as a practical dating tool. Not some organization promoting hatred of the opposite sex.” She glanced over at Ceci. “I really do like men. I just don’t like how they treat women sometimes.”

Ceci smiled as she started the car. “Sweetie, if we didn’t like men so much, we wouldn’t waste our energy trying to fix them. Someone has to hold these guys accountable.”

“Did you get through to Alex Stamos?” Angela asked, turning her attention to the next bit of research for her book. “He’s been ducking my calls for a week now.”

“I got his assistant. She says he’s out of town for the next few days on business, but he’ll be sure to get back to me when he returns. She also mentioned that she had a few stories of her own about the guy.”

“You made it clear that this interview would be anonymous, didn’t you?” Angie asked.

“I said that you wanted to give him a chance to set the record straight,” Ceci said. “But I think getting an in-depth profile of each of these types might be kind of tricky. Especially once they’ve seen the site.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t do the interviews and go with my original plan.”

“Absolutely not,” Celia cried. “I think having a conversation with each of these types makes them real. Just move on to the next guy on your list and catch up with Stamos later.”

Angie had been working as a freelance writer ever since she got out of college. It had been a hit-and-miss career and there were times when she barely had enough to pay the rent. The blog had just been a way to exercise her writing muscles every day, but once it took off, she was able to attract advertisers and make a reasonably constant paycheck from the Web site.

She sighed. Her parents, both college professors, had wanted her to become a psychologist, but when she finished her undergrad studies at Northwestern, she’d decided to rebel and try journalism.

This book would give her instant credibility as a journalist—and it might appease her parents as well as open a lot of doors. The advance alone was nearly gone, lost to car repairs and computer upgrades. Right now, every Tom, Dick and Mary was a blogger. But not many people could say they were a real author.

“You’re right,” she said. “I can work on Charlie Templeton. Or Max Morgan.” But would they be willing to talk? She’d have to readjust her strategy. If the men weren’t going to be identified in the book, then maybe a bit of subterfuge to get their stories wouldn’t be entirely out of line.

1

ALEX STAMOS PEERED into the darkness, the BMW’s headlights nearly useless in the swirling snow. He could barely make out the edge of the road, the drifts causing the car to fishtail even at fifteen miles per hour.

He’d done a lot of things to boost business at Stamos Publishing and as the new CEO, that was his job. But until now, he’d never had to risk life and limb to get what he wanted. His cell phone rang and he reached over to pick it up off the passenger seat. “I’m in the middle of a blizzard,” he said. “Make it quick.”

“What are doing in a blizzard?” Tess asked. “I thought you were leaving for Mexico tonight.”

He had decided to put off his midwinter vacation for a few days. Business was much more important than a week of sun and windsurfing at his family’s oceanside condo. “I have to take care of this business first. I’m leaving the day after tomorrow.”

“Where are you?”

“The middle of nowhere,” he said. “Door County.”

“Isn’t that in Wisconsin?”

“And you failed geography, little sister. How is that possible?”

Tess groaned. “That was in eighth grade.”

“There’s a new artist I need to see. He hasn’t been returning my calls, so I decided to drive up and pay a personal visit.”

“Well, I thought you’d want to know. The Devil’s Own got a great review in Publisher’s Preview,” Tess said. “And the distributors have been calling all afternoon to increase their orders. At this rate, we’re going to have to go back for the second printing before the first is out the door, so I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to put it on the schedule for later next week.”

Tess was head of production at Stamos Publishing. She and Alex had been working together on his new business plan for nearly a year and this was the first sign that it was about to pay off. Until last year, Stamos Publishing had been known for it’s snooze-inducing catalog of technical books, covering everything from lawnmower repair to vegan cookery to dog grooming. But as the newly appointed chief executive officer, Alex was determined to move the company into the twenty-first century. And that move began with a flashy new imprint for graphic novels.

From the time he was a kid, walking through the pressroom with his grandfather, he’d been fascinated by the family business. While most of his peers were enjoying their summers off, he’d worked in the bindery and the production offices, learning Stamos Publishing from top to bottom.

His dream had been to make Stamos Publishing the premier printer in the comic book industry. That way, he could get all the free comic books he wanted. But as he got older, Alex began to take the business more seriously. He saw the weaknesses in his father’s management plan and in the company’s spot in the market and vowed to make some changes if he ever got the chance.

The chance came at the expense of his family, when his father died suddenly four years ago. His grandfather had come back to run the business, but only until Alex was ready to take over. Now, nearly all the extended Stamos family, siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles, depended upon him to keep the business in the black.

“I’m going to run forty thousand,” Tess said. “I know that’s double the first run, but I think our sell-through will be good.”

“I guess we were right about the graphic novels,” he said, keeping his concentration on the road. Though they weren’t comic books, they were the next best thing. The edgier stories and innovative art had made them popular with readers of all ages. And Stamos was posed to grab a nice chunk of the market. “What else?”

“Mom is upset,” Tess said. “One of her bridge club ladies showed her that Web site. The cool operators site.”

“Smooth operators,” he corrected. “What did she say?”

“That a nice Greek boy won’t find a nice Greek wife if he acts like a malakas. And she also said the next time you come to Sunday dinner, she’s going to have a conversation with you.”

“Great,” Alex muttered. A conversation was always much more painful than a talk or a chat with his mother. No doubt he’d be forced to endure a few blind dates with eligible Greek girls, handpicked by the Stamos matriarch.

“Some people think that any P.R. is good P.R. I don’t happen to agree, Alex. I think you need to do some damage control and you need to do it fast. I’m looking at your profile on this page right now and it’s not good. These women hate you. Heck, I hate you, and I’m your sister.”

“What do you suggest? I’m not about to talk about my love life in public.”

“Who suggested that?”

Alex cursed beneath his breath. “The owner of the Web site called to interview me. Angela…I can’t remember her last name. Weatherall or Weathervane.”

“She wants to talk to you?”

“I guess. Either that, or she wants to yell at me. But I’m almost certain I’ve never dated her.” He cursed softly. “What makes her think I’m the one at fault here? Some of these women are just as much to blame. They were ready to get married after three dates.”

“You have had a lot of girlfriends. Listen, Alex, I know you’re a nice guy. So why can’t you find a nice woman?”

The car skidded and he brought it back under control, cursing beneath his breath. “I’ll figure this out when I get back.”

“So this artist must be pretty good for you to drive through a blizzard to see him.”

“A little snow is not going to stop me,” he replied.

“And this guy isn’t just good, he’s…amazing. And oddly uninterested in publication. The novel came through the slush pile and I figure the reason he’s avoiding me is because he’s got another publisher interested.”

“So, you’re just going to drive five hours in the snow and expect he’ll want to talk business?”

“I’m a persuasive guy,” Alex said. “My charm doesn’t just work on the opposite sex. Besides, if I’m his first offer, then I have a chance to get a brand-new talent for a bargain-basement price. I’m not leaving without a signed contract.”

The car skidded again and Alex dropped his phone as he gripped the wheel with two hands. He gently applied the brakes and slowed to a crawl as he fished around for the BlackBerry. But he couldn’t find it in the dark. “I have to go,” he shouted, “or I’ll end up in the ditch. I’ll call you after I check in.”

“Let me know when you’re settled,” Tess replied.

Alex found the BlackBerry and tucked it in his jacket pocket, then turned his attention back to the road. He knew Door County was well populated, at least in the summer. But in the middle of a Wisconsin winter, the highway was almost desolate between the small towns, marked only by snow-plastered signs looming in the darkness.

Was he the only one crazy enough to be out during a blizzard? Alex leaned forward, searching for the edge of the road through the blowing snow. A moment later, he realized he was no longer in control of his car. Without a sound the car hit a huge drift and came to a silent stop in the ditch.

This time, Alex strung enough curse words together to form a complete sentence, replete with plenty of vivid adjectives. He wasn’t sure what to do. The car wouldn’t go forward or backward. Even if he got the car back on the road, it was becoming impossible to see where the road was. He didn’t have a shovel, so there wasn’t much chance of getting himself out of the ditch.

Alex grabbed his gloves from the seat beside him and pulled them on. If he could clear some of the snow from beneath the wheels, he might be able to get back on the road. If not, he’d call the auto club for a tow. He grabbed a flashlight from the glove box, then crawled out of the car, his feet sinking into a three-foot drift.

Even with the flashlight, it was impossible to see through the blowing snow. Blackness surrounded him as he dug at the snow with his hands. But for every handful of snow he pulled away, two more fell back beneath the tire. Alex knew the only safe option was to wait in the car for help.

He pulled out his phone to call for a tow, but his gloves were wet and his fingers numb from digging in the snow. The BlackBerry slipped out of his fingers and disappeared into the snowdrift. “Shit,” he muttered. “From one bone-headed move to the next.” Was it even worth searching for the phone?

He decided against it, figuring the BlackBerry would be ruined anyway. As he struggled back to the door, headlights appeared on the road. For a moment, he wondered if the car would even see him in the blinding snow, but to his relief, the SUV stopped. He waded through the drift as the passenger-side window opened.

“Hi,” he called, leaning inside. “I’m stuck.”

A female voice replied. “I can see that.”

Alex could barely make out her features. She wore a huge fur hat with earflaps and a scarf wound around her neck, obscuring the lower part of her face. In truth, she was bundled from top to toe, except for her eyes. “Can you give me a ride into town?”

“No,” she said. “I’ve just come from town. The road is nearly impassable. I’m on my way home.”

Her voice was soft and kind of husky…sexy. He felt an odd reaction, considering it was the only thing that marked her as a woman. “I’d call for a tow, but I lost my cell phone.”

“Get in,” she said. “I’ll take you to my place and you can call from there.”

“Let me just get my things from the car.” By the time Alex retrieved his duffel, his laptop and his briefcase from the BMW, he was completely caked with snow. He crawled into the warm Jeep and pulled the door shut. “Thanks,” he said. He glanced over his shoulder to find two dogs in the backseat, watching him silently, their noses twitching. The larger of the two looked like a lab mix and the smaller had a fair bit of terrier in him.

“What are you doing out on a night like tonight?” she asked.

“I could ask the same of you,” Alex said with a grin. “I’m glad you were as brave as I was.”

“Stupid is more like it. And I’m not driving a sports car,” she said.

“It’s not a sports car,” he said. “It’s a sedan.” He glanced over at her. It was impossible to tell how old she was. And the only clue to her appearance was a lock of dark hair that had escaped from under her hat. “Do you live nearby?”

“Just down the road.”

He settled back into the seat, staring out at the swirl of white in front of them. He couldn’t see the road at all, but she seemed to know exactly where she was going, expertly navigating through the drifts. Before long, she slowed and turned off the highway onto what he assumed was a side road and then a few minutes later, into a narrow driveway, marked by two tall posts, studded with red reflectors. The woods were thick on either side, so it was easy to find the way through the trees.

A yard light was visible as they approached and, before long, Alex could see the outline of a small cabin made of rough-hewn logs. She pulled up in front and turned to face him. “The front door’s unlocked,” she said. “I’m just going to put the Jeep in the shed.”

Alex grabbed his things from the floor and hopped out, then walked through another knee-deep drift to get to the front steps. As he stamped the snow off his ruined loafers, the dogs joined him, racing through the darkness to the porch.

He opened the door a crack and the animals pushed their way into the dimly lit interior. The cabin was one huge room, with a timbered ceiling and tongue and groove paneling. A stone fireplace covered one wall and windows lined the other. The décor was like nothing he’d ever seen before, every available space taken with bits and pieces of nature—a bird’s nest, a basket of acorns, a single maple leaf in a frame on a bent-willow table.

He kicked off his shoes and stepped off the rug, but then froze as the dogs growled softly. They’d seemed so friendly in the car, but now they watched him suspiciously as he ventured uninvited into their territory.

“The phone is over there.”

He turned to see her standing in the shadows on the other side of the kitchen. “Do they bite?” he asked.

“Only if I tell them to,” she murmured. There was a subtle warning in her tone. It wasn’t surprising, considering she just allowed a stranger into her home. For all she knew, he could be some deranged psycho—driving an expensive European sedan and wearing ruined Italian loafers.

“I won’t make any sudden moves,” he said.

She shrugged and walked out of the room, her heavy boots leaving puddles of water on the floor. Alex slipped out of his coat and tossed it over a nearby chair, then kicked off his shoes. When the two dogs approached, he held his breath. They sniffed at his feet, then each picked up a shoe and retreated back to the sofa with their prizes.

“Give those back,” he pleaded. “No, don’t do that. You can’t eat those.” Alex heard footsteps behind him and he spun around, coming face-to-face with a woman of peculiar beauty. He glanced around the room. “Hello,” he said.

He slowly took in the details of her face. She wore dark makeup on her eyes and her shoulder-length hair was cut in a jagged way, with streaks of purple in the bangs. Was this the woman who had rescued him? He’d imagined the face that went with the voice, speculated about the body, but this wasn’t at all what he’d expected.

“They eat shoes,” she said, grabbing the loafers and handing them back to him.

Only when he heard her voice was Alex certain. This was the woman who had rescued him. But the instant attraction he felt was rather disconcerting. She was the exact opposite of women he usually pursued. He liked blondes, tall and willowy, surgically enhanced and trainer-toned. This girl was petite, with an almost boyish figure, and a quirky sense of fashion.

“Put them in the closet,” she said, pointing to a spot near one door. “They don’t know how to operate a doorknob…yet. They’re still working on tearing strangers limb from limb.”

Alex smiled, but she didn’t return the gesture. She continued to regard him with a cool yet slightly wary stare. After he’d dropped his shoes in the closet, he surveyed his surroundings. “Nice place. Do you live here alone?”

“No,” she said. “There are the dogs. And two cats. And I have two horses down in the barn.”

“A regular Noah’s Ark,” he teased. She gave him an odd look and he decided be more direct. “So, you’re not married?”

“Are you?”

“No,” he said, chuckling. Crossing the room, he held out his hand. “I’m Alex Stamos.” He waited, growing impatient with the long silence between them. “Now, you’re supposed to tell me your name.”

“Tenley,” she said, refusing his gesture.

“Is that your first or last name? Or both. Like Ten Lee?”

She shook her head. “I haven’t had dinner yet. Are you hungry?”

“I could eat, Tenley,” Alex said. Odd girl with an odd name. Yet, he found her fascinating. She didn’t seem to be interested in impressing him. In truth, she didn’t seem the least bit fazed by his charm.

Strange, Alex thought to himself. Women usually found him utterly mesmerizing from the get-go. He slipped out of his jacket and draped it over a nearby chair. His pants were damp and his socks soaked through.

“You should probably call for a tow. Or your car is going to get covered by the drifts. The phone is over there.”

“I’ll call the auto club.” He paused. “I don’t have the phone number. It’s on my BlackBerry, which is in the snowbank.”

“I’ll call Jesse. He has the garage in town.” She walked over to the phone and dialed. Alex watched her from across the room, studying her features. She really was quite pretty in an unconventional way. Alex drew a slow breath. She had a really nice mouth, her lips full and lush.

When she turned to face him, he blinked, startled out of a brief fantasy about the body beneath the layers of winter clothes. “He won’t be able to get to you for a while,” she said. “Maybe not until the morning.”

“Did you tell him that wasn’t acceptable?”

This caused a tiny smile to twitch at the corners of her mouth—the first he’d managed. “No. He’s busy. There are more important people than you stuck in the snow. You’re safe and out of the storm. Your car can wait. Now, if it’s acceptable to you, I’ll make us something to eat.”

Alex cursed beneath his breath. He hadn’t gotten off to a very good start with Tenley. And hell, spending the evening in her company, sharing an intimate dinner, was far more intriguing that sitting alone in his room at the local bed-and-breakfast. “Can I give you a hand?” he asked, following her to the kitchen.

HE SAT ON A STOOL at the kitchen island, his elbows resting on the granite counter top, his gaze following her every move. The tension between them was palpable, the attraction crackling like an electric current.

What had ever possessed her to bring this man in from the storm? She thought she was doing a good deed. He probably would have survived just fine on his own. She could have come home, called the sheriff and let law enforcement ride to the rescue. But now it looked like she’d be stuck with him for the rest of the night.

Tenley was accustomed to a solitary existence, just her, the dogs, the cats, the horses and those occasional demons that haunted her dreams. Having a stranger in the house upset the delicate balance—especially a stranger she found so disturbingly attractive.

In truth, she wasn’t sure how to handle company. Since the accident almost ten years before, she’d made a habit of isolating herself, always maintaining a safe distance from anything that resembled a relationship. It was just easier. Losing her brother had sapped every last bit of emotion out of her soul that she didn’t have the energy or the willpower to engage in polite conversation. And that was what people expected in social situations.

“Stop staring at me.” Tenley carefully chopped the carrot, focusing on the task and trying to ignore Alex’s intent gaze. She felt her face grow warm and she fought the urge to run outside into the storm to cool off.

There was work to do in the barn; the horses had to be fed. She didn’t have to stay. But for the first time in a very long time, Tenley found herself…interested. She wasn’t sure what it was, but his curious stare had her heart beating a bit quicker and her nerves on edge. From the moment he’d offered his hand in introduction, she’d felt it.

Maybe it was just an overreaction to simple loneliness. She had been particularly moody this winter, almost restless. In years past, she’d been happy to hide out, to take long walks in the woods, to spend time with her animals, indulging in an occasional short-lived affair. But this winter had been different. There had been no men and the solitude had begun to wear on her.

She handed him a carrot to munch on, using the opportunity to study him more closely. Alex Stamos. For some reason, the name sounded familiar to her, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. He was here on business. Maybe he was one of those real estate developers from Illinois, interested in building yet another resort on the peninsula. She’d probably seen his name in the local paper.

And she didn’t understand this sudden attraction. Tenley was usually drawn to men who were a little rougher around the edges, a bit more dangerous. She usually chose tourists who were certain to leave at some point, but she had indulged with a number of willing single men from some of the nearby towns. Her grandfather called them “discardable,” and Tenley had to agree with his assessment.

Tenley looked down at her vegetables. There weren’t many women who’d kick Alex Stamos out of their bed.

Tenley glanced up again, to find him still staring. She drew a deep breath and met his gaze, refusing to flinch. For a long time, neither one of them blinked.

“I like this game,” he said. “My sister and I used to play it when we were kids. I always won.”

“It makes me uncomfortable,” Tenley said. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it wasn’t polite to stare?”

He shrugged and looked away. “Yeah, but I didn’t think that applied in this case. I mean, it’s not like you have a big wart on the end of your nose or you’ve got two heads. I’m staring because I think you’re pretty. What’s wrong with that?”

“I’m not pretty,” she muttered. She grabbed an onion and tossed it at him, then shoved the cutting board and knife across the counter. “Here, cut that up.”

She didn’t invite this attraction. In fact, over the past year, she’d done her level best to avoid men. The last man she’d invited into her bed hadn’t been just a one-night stand. She’d actually found herself wanting more, searching for something that she couldn’t put a name to.

She knew the risks. Physical attraction led to sex which led to more sex which led to affection which ultimately led to love. Only love didn’t last. It was there one day and gone the next. She’d loved her brother, more than anyone else in the world. And when he’d been taken from her, she wasn’t sure she’d ever recover. She wasn’t about to go through that again.

“I’m wondering why you wear all that makeup. I mean, you don’t need it. I think you’d look prettier without it.”

“Maybe I don’t want to look pretty,” Tenley murmured.

Alex chuckled at her reply. “Why wouldn’t you want to look pretty? Especially if you are?”

The question made Tenley uneasy. She didn’t tolerate curious men, men who wanted to get inside her head before they got into her bed. What business was it of his why she did what she did? He was a complete stranger and didn’t know anything about her life. Why bother to act as if he cared?

She turned and tossed the chopped carrots into the cast-iron pot on the stove. Maybe the town’s speculation about her would come true. She’d slowly devolve into an eccentric old spinster, living alone in the woods with only her animals to talk to.

“Do you like peppers?” she asked, turning to open the refrigerator.

“Do you ever answer a direct question?”

“Red or green? I prefer red.”

“You don’t answer questions,” Alex said. “Red.”

Tenley gave him a smile. “Me, too. They’re sweeter.” She handed him the pepper, then grabbed a towel from the ring beneath the sink. Bending over the basin, she quickly washed the makeup off her face, wiping away the dark liner and lipstick with dish soap.

When she opened her eyes again, she found an odd expression on his face. “Better?”

“Yeah,” he said softly, his gaze slowly taking in her features. “You just look. different.” He paused. “Beautiful.”

She swallowed hard, trying to keep herself from smiling. “Thank you,” she murmured. “You’re beautiful, too.”

The moment the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to take them back. This was what came from spending so much time alone, talking to herself. She expressed her thoughts out loud without even realizing it.

He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. “Thanks.”

“I’m not just saying that. You are. Objectively, you’re very attractive.” Oh, God, now she was just digging a deeper hole. “I just noticed, that’s all. I’m not trying to. you know.”

“I don’t know,” he said. He picked up the pepper and walked around the island to the sink, then rinsed it off. “But you could try to explain it to me.”

There was no going back now. “The way you’re looking at me. I just get the feeling that you’re…flirting.”

He turned and leaned back against the edge of the counter. “I am. Is there something wrong with that?”

“It’s not going to work. I—I’m not interested in…that.”

“What?”

“Sex,” she said.

He frowned, then shook his head. “Is that what you think I’m doing? I was just having some fun. Talking. I didn’t mean to—”

“I didn’t want you to think that I was—”

“Oh, I didn’t. I guess, I’m just used to—”

“I understand and I don’t mean to—”

“I do understand,” he said softly. He took a step toward her and she held her breath.

This was crazy. She wanted him to kiss her. With any other man, she would have already been halfway to the bedroom. But Alex was different. All these strange feelings stirred inside of her. She longed for his touch, yet she knew how dangerous it would be. Need mixed with fear and she wasn’t sure what to do.

But then Alex took the decision out of her hands. He smoothed his hand over her cheek and bent closer. An instant later, his lips met hers and Tenley felt a tremor race through her body. He lingered over her mouth, taking his time, waiting for her to surrender.

With a soft sigh, Tenley opened beneath the gentle assault. A delicious rush of warmth washed through her body. Lately, she hadn’t felt much like a woman. It was amazing what one kiss could do to change all that.

She pushed up on her toes, eager to lose herself in the taste of him. It didn’t matter that they’d just met. It didn’t matter that she knew nothing about him. He made her feel all warm and tingly inside. That was all she cared about.

He drew back slightly, his breath warm against her mouth. “Maybe we should get back to dinner,” he suggested.

With a satisfied smile, Tenley stepped out of his embrace. They did have the entire night. With the blizzard raging outside, there was no way he’d be able to get into town. “There’s white wine and beer in the fridge and red wine in the cabinet above. Pick what you want.”

“What are you making?” He stood over her shoulder and peered into the cast-iron pot steaming on the stove. “It smells good.”

“Camp supper,” she said. “It’s just whatever’s at hand, tossed into a pot. There’s hamburger, potatoes, peppers, carrots and onions. I think I’ll add some corn.”

It wasn’t gourmet. Cooking had never been one of her talents. In truth, Tenley wasn’t really sure what she was good at. Right about the time she was ready to find out, her life had been turned upside down. Her grandfather was an artist and so was her father. And her mother was a poet, so creativity did run in her veins.

But like everything else in her world, she’d been too afraid to invest any passion in her future for fear that it might slip through her fingers. So she chose to help her grandfather further his career by running his art gallery. At least she knew she was good at that, even though it was more of a job than a passion.

Alex retrieved a bottle of red wine from the cabinet and set it on the counter. She handed him a corkscrew and he deftly dispatched the cork and poured two glasses of Merlot. “This is a nice place,” he said.

“It belonged to my grandparents. My great-grandfather built it for them as a wedding gift. After my grandmother died, my grandfather moved into town, and I moved here.”

“What do you do?”

“I was just going to ask you the same thing,” Tenley said, deflecting his question. “What brings you to Door County in the middle of a blizzard? It must be something very important.”

“Business,” he replied. “I’m here to see an artist. T. J. Marshall. Do you know him?”

Tenley’s breath caught in her throat and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. This man had come to see her grandfather? How was that possible? She was in charge of her grandfather’s appointments and she didn’t remember making one for—Oh, God. That was where she knew his name. He’d left a string of messages on her grandfather’s voice mail. Something about publishing a novel. Her grandfather already worked with a publisher and he didn’t write novels, so she’d ignored the messages. “I do. Everyone knows him. What do you want with him?”

“He sent us a graphic novel. I want to publish it.”

Tenley frowned. Her grandfather painted landscapes. He didn’t even know what a graphic novel was. She, however, did know. In fact, she’d made one for Josh Barton, the neighbor boy, as a Christmas gift, a thankyou for caring for her animals. “Do you have it with you?” she asked, trying to keep her voice indifferent.

“I do.”

“Could I see it?”

“Sure. Do you like graphic novels?”

“I’ve read a few,” she replied.

“This one is incredible. Very dark. The guy who wrote this has got some real demons haunting him. Or he’s got a great imagination. It’s about a girl named Cyd who can bring people back from the dead.”

Alex walked across the room to fetch his briefcase. Tenley grabbed her glass of wine and took three quick gulps. If this was her work, how had it possibly gotten into Alex’s hands? Perhaps Josh had decided to start a career as an artist’s agent at age fourteen?

Alex returned with a file folder, holding it out to her. “The story is loaded with conflict and it’s really edgy. It’s hard to find graphic novels that combine great art with a solid story. And this has both.”

Tenley opened the folder and immediately recognized the cover of Josh’s Christmas gift. She sighed softly as she flipped through the photocopy. What had he done? He’d raved about the story, but she’d never expected him to send a copy to a publisher. It had been a private little gift between the two of them, that was all. Josh had shared his love of the genre with her and she’d made him a story of his very own. She’d never intended it for public consumption.

Tenley had always had a love-hate affair with her artistic abilities. Though establishing her own career in art might make sense to the casual observer, Tenley fought against it. She and her brother had always talked about striking out on their own, leaving Door County and finding work in a big city. She’d wanted to be an actress and Tommy had been interested in architecture.

But after the boating accident, Tenley had given up on dreams. Her parents had been devastated and their grief led to a divorce. There was a fight over where Tenley would live and in the end, they let her stay in Door County with her grandparents while they escaped to opposite coasts.

They still encouraged her to paint or sculpt or do anything worthy with her art. But putting herself out there, for everyone to see, made her feel more vulnerable than she already did. There were too many ways to get hurt, and so many expectations that could never be met. And now, the one time in years that she’d put pen to paper had brought this man to her door. What were the odds?

“This is interesting,” she murmured. “But I think someone is messing with you. T. J. Marshall paints landscapes. This isn’t his work.”

“You know his work?”

“Yes. Everyone does. He has a gallery in town. You must be looking for another T. J. Marshall.”

“How many are there in Sawyer Bay?” he asked.

Two, Tenley thought to herself. Thomas James and Tenley Jacinda. “Only one,” she lied.

“And you know him. So you can introduce me. Tell me about him. How old is he? What’s his background? Has he done commercial illustration in the past?”

What was she supposed to say? That Tenley Jacinda Marshall was the T. J. Marshall he was looking for? That she was twenty-six years old, had never formally studied art or design, and had spent her entire life in Door County? And that she’d never intended anyone, outside of Josh Barton, to see her story?

“I know this will sell. It’s exactly what the market is looking for,” Alex continued. “A female protagonist, a story filled with moral dilemmas and great pictures.”

Was he really interested in paying her for the story? It would be nice to have some extra cash. Horse feed and vet care didn’t come cheap. And though her grandfather paid her well, she never felt as if she did enough to earn her salary. Still, with money came responsibility. She liked her life exactly the way it was—uncomplicated.

“I think I’ll make a salad,” she said.

He reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her escape. “Promise you’ll introduce me,” Alex pleaded, catching her chin with his finger and turning her gaze to his. “This is important.”

“All right,” Tenley said. “I will. But not tonight.”

He laughed. “No, not tonight.” He bent close and dropped a quick kiss on her lips, then frowned. “Are you ever going to tell me anything about yourself?”

“I don’t lead a very exciting life,” Tenley murmured, as he smoothed his finger along her jaw. A shiver skittered down her spine. His touch was so addictive. She barely knew him, yet she craved physical contact. He’d come here to see her, but somehow she knew that revealing her identity would be a mistake—at least for the next twelve hours.

“You rescued me from disaster,” he said. “I could have frozen out there.”

“Someone would have come along sooner or later,” she said.

They continued preparations for dinner in relative silence. But the thoughts racing through Tenley’s mind were anything but quiet. In the past, it had always been so simple to take what she wanted from a man. Physical pleasure was just a natural need, or so she told herself. And though she chose carefully when it came to the men who shared her bed, she’d never hesitated when she found a suitable sexual partner.

This was different. There was an attraction here she’d never felt before, a connection that went beyond the surface. He was incredibly handsome, with his dark hair and eyes, and a body that promised to be close to

perfection once he removed his clothes. He was quite intelligent and witty. And he seemed perfectly capable of seducing her on his own.

It might be nice to be the seduced rather than the seducer, Tenley thought. But would he move fast enough? They only had this one night. Sometime tomorrow, he’d find out she was the artist also known as T. J. Marshall. And then everything would change.

“Would you like some more wine?” Alex asked.

Tenley nodded. “Sure.” The bottle was already halfempty. Where would they be when it was gone?

THEY HAD DINNER in front of the fire. The sexual tension between them wasn’t lost on Alex. By all accounts, the setting was impossibly romantic—a blazing fire, a snowstorm outside and the entire night ahead of them. With any other woman, he could have turned on the charm and had her within an hour. But there was something about Tenley that made him bide his time. She wasn’t just any woman and she seemed to see right through him.

In the twelve years he’d been actively pursing women, Alex had honed his techniques. He’d found that most women were turned off by a man who wanted jump into bed after just a few hours together. Though he usually felt the urge, he’d learned to control his desires. He never slept with a woman on the first date. Or the second. But by the third, there were no rules left to follow.

Now he was finding it difficult putting thoughts of seduction out of his head. He wasn’t sure he was reading the signs correctly. Though he found Tenley incredibly sexy, he wasn’t sure they were moving in that direction. One moment she seemed interested and the next, she acted as though she couldn’t care less.

Though the conversation between them was easy, it wasn’t terribly informative. He’d learned that Tenley had lived in Door County her entire life and that the cabin had belonged to her grandparents. Her father was an artist and her mother, a poet. Though she didn’t say for certain, he gleaned from her comments that they were divorced. When he asked where they lived, she’d quickly changed the subject.

She kept the conversation firmly focused on him, asking about his business, about his life in Chicago, about his childhood. She seemed particularly interested in the market for graphic novels and his interest in publishing them.

“My grandfather started the company in 1962,” Alex explained. “He used to do technical manuals, then started a line of how-to books, right about the time everyone was getting into home improvement. He retired and my father expanded our list to include other how-to titles. How to Groom a Poodle, How to Make a Soufflé, How to Play the Ukulele. Real page-turners.”

“And then you came along with an idea for graphic novels.”

“I’ve read comic books since I was a kid. But they’re not just comic books anymore. They’re an incredible mix of graphic art and story. They’ve turned some of the best ones into movies, so they’re starting to move into mainstream culture.”

“And this book by T. J. Marshall? Why do you like it?”

“It’s…tragic. There’s this heroine who, after a brush with death, discovers she can bring people back to life. But she’s forced to choose between those she can save and those not worthy. The power only works for a short time before it’s gone again. And there’s this governmental agency that’s after her. They want to use her powers for evil.”

“And you liked her—I mean, his art?”

“Yeah,” Alex replied. “The drawings have an energy about them, a rawness that matches the dark emotion in the story. I find it pretty amazing that someone could be such a great writer and an incredible artist, too.”

“So you just want to publish it? Just like that?”

Alex shook his head. “No. There are some things that need to be addressed. The story needs to be expanded. There’s a subplot that has to be fleshed out. I’ve got minor questions about the character, some inconsistencies in the backstory. And we’d want to explore a story arc for a sequel or two, maybe make it a trilogy.”

She frowned. “A trilogy?”

“Yeah. We’d want to publish more than one novel. The real success in publishing is not in buying a book, but in building a career.”

“So it pays a lot of money?”

“Not a lot. It would depend on how the books sold. But we have a great marketing department. I think they’d do really well. Well enough to provide a comfortable living for the artist.”

Tenley quickly stood and gathered up the remains of their dinner. He got to his feet and helped her, following her into the kitchen with the empty bottle of wine. Though he hadn’t quite figured out her mercurial mood changes, he was finding them less troublesome. She just moved more quickly from one thing to the next than the ordinary person, as if she became bored or distracted easily.

“Can I help you with the dishes?” he asked, standing beside her at the sink.

“Sure,” she murmured.

He reached across her for the soap, his hand brushing hers. The contact was startling in its effect on his body. A current raced up his arm, jolting him like an electric shock. Intrigued, he reached down and took her hand in his, smoothing his fingers over her palm.

“You have beautiful hands,” he said, examining her fingers. It was as if he knew these hands, knew exactly how they’d feel on his face, on his body. Her nails were painted a dark purple and she wore several rings on her fingers and thumb.

Alex slowly pulled them off, setting them down on the edge of the sink. It was like undressing her in a way, discovering the woman beneath all the accoutrements. He drew her hand up to his lips and placed a kiss on the back of her wrist.

Her gaze fixed on his face, her eyes wide, filled with indecision. Alex held his breath, waiting for a reaction. He kissed a fingertip, then drew it across his lower lip. The gesture had the desired effect. She leaned into him and a moment later, their mouths met.

Unlike the experiment that was their first kiss, this was slow and delicious. She tasted sweet, like the wine they’d drunk. He pulled her close, smoothing his hands over her back until her body was pressed against his. Kissing her left him breathless, his heart slamming in his chest.

He ran his hands over her arms, then grasped her wrists and wrapped them around his neck. A tiny sigh slipped from her throat and she softened in his embrace, as if the kiss were affecting her as much as it was him.

Alex had made the same move with any number of women, but it had never had this kind of effect on him. What was usually carefully controlled need was now raw and urgent. He wanted to possess her, to get inside her soul and find out who this woman was. She was sweet and complicated and vulnerable and tough. And everything about her drew him in and made him want more.

Maybe that was it. He’d learned well how to read women, to play on their desires and to make them want him. But Tenley was a challenge. She didn’t react to his charm in the usual ways. Yet that wasn’t all he found so intriguing. She lived all alone in the woods, with a bunch of animals. Where was her family? Where were the people who cared about her? And how did a woman as beautiful as Tenley not have a boyfriend or a husband to take care of her?

He sensed there was something not right here, something he couldn’t explain. Alex felt an overwhelming need to reveal those parts of her that she was trying so hard to hide. She’d rescued him out on the road, but now he suspected that she was the one who needed saving.

The diversion was short-lived. The phone rang and, startled by the sound, Tenley stepped back. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips damp. “I—I should get that.”

Alex nodded as she slipped from his embrace. She hurried to the phone and picked it up, watching him from beneath dark lashes. He leaned back against the edge of the counter and waited, certain they’d begin again just as soon as the call was over. But when she hung up, she maintained her distance.

“Jesse towed your car into town,” she said.

“Good.”

“But not before the snowplow hit it. He says it’s not real bad. It’ll need a new back bumper and a side panel. And a taillight. And a few more things.”

Alex groaned. “Can I still drive it?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Great,” he muttered. “How the hell am I going to get around?”

“I guess I’ll have to drive you,” Tenley said. “You’re not going to be going anywhere tonight anyway, so it’s not worth worrying about. Jesse says the wind is just blowing the roads closed right after they plow them.” She crossed back to him. “I—I should go out and check on the horses.”

“I’ll come with you,” Alex suggested.

“It’s late. You’re probably tired. You can have the guest room. It’s at the end of the hall. There are towels in the closet outside the bathroom. Just help yourself.”

With that, she fetched her boots from a spot near the back door, then pulled on her jacket. A moment later, she stepped out into the storm. Alex opened the door behind her and watched as she disappeared into the darkness. The cold wind whipped a swirl of snow into his face and he quickly closed the door and leaned back against it.

What had begun as a simple business trip had taken a rather interesting turn. But he wasn’t sure whether he ought to take his chances and hike into town, or spend the night under the same roof as this utterly captivating and perplexing woman.

He grabbed his duffel and walked to the guest room. When he finally found the light switch, he was surprised to find two cats curled up on the bed. The two calicos were sleeping so closely, he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Neither one of them stirred as he dropped the bag on the floor. But when the dogs came bounding into the room, they opened their eyes and watched the pair with wary gazes.

“Time to go,” he said, picking them each up and gently setting them on the floor. They ran out the door, the dogs following after them.

Alex shut the door, then flopped down on the bed. He closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift back to the kiss he’d shared with Tenley. Though he hadn’t had any expectations of further intimacies, he wished they hadn’t been interrupted. With each step forward, he found himself curious about the next.

Though he’d enjoyed physical pleasure with lots of women, this was different. Everything felt…new. As if he were experiencing it for the first time. He groaned softly. He wanted her, in his arms and in his bed. But wanting her was as far as he would go. He was a guest in her house and wasn’t about to take advantage, no matter how intense his need.

He’d come here to do a job, to sign T. J. Marshall to a publishing contract. It wouldn’t do to get distracted from his purpose.

2

THE WATER WAS SO COLD and black. Even with her eyes open, she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. Stay awake, stay awake. A voice inside her head kept repeating the refrain. Or was it Tommy? Was he saying the words?

Her nails clawed at the fitting on the hull of the boat as it bobbed in the water. Stay with the boat. Don’t try to swim for shore. Though she wore a life jacket, Tenley knew that sooner or later her body temperature would drop so low it wouldn’t matter. She wouldn’t drown. She’d just quietly go to sleep and drift out into the lake.

“Tommy!” She called his name and then felt his hand on hers. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She grasped at his fingers, but they weren’t there. He wasn’t there. He’d decided to swim for it, ordering her to stay with the boat. “I’ll be back for you,” he called. “I promise.”

How long had it been? Minutes? Hours? Tenley couldn’t remember. Why was she so confused? She called his name again. And then again. Over and over until her voice was weak and her throat raw.

The sound came out of nowhere, a low rumble, like the engine of a boat. It was Tommy. He’d come, just as he’d promised. But as the roar came closer, Tenley realized it wasn’t a boat at all but a huge wave, so high that it blocked out the moon and the stars in the sky. She held her breath, waiting for it to crash down on top of her. Where had it come from?

A ton of water enveloped her, driving her deep beneath the surface. The breath burned in her lungs and she struggled to reach the cold night air. Maybe it was better to let go, to stop fighting. Was that what Tommy had done? Was he safe at home, or had the black wave taken him as well? No, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. She—

Tenley awoke with a start, sitting upright in her bed, gasping for breath. For a moment, she wasn’t sure where she was. She rubbed her arms, only to find them warm and clad in the soft fabric of her T-shirt. She was safe. But where was Tommy? Why wasn’t he—

A sick feeling settled in her stomach as she realized, yet again, that Tommy was gone. There were times when she had such pleasant dreams about their childhood. They’d been the best of friends, twins, so much alike. As the only children of a poet and an artist, they’d grown up without boundaries, encouraged to discover all that nature had to offer.

Back then, they’d lived on the waterfront, in the apartment above her grandfather’s studio. The sailboat had been a present from her grandfather for their thirteenth birthday and every summer, she and Tommy had skimmed across the harbor, the wind filling the small sail and the sun shining down on them both.

But as they got older, they became much more daring. Their adventures had an edge of danger to them. Diving from the cliffs above the water. Wandering into the woods late at night. Sailing beyond the quiet confines of the harbor to the small islands just offshore.

They’d both known how quickly the weather could shift in the bay and how dangerous it was to be in a small boat when the waves kicked up. But they both loved pushing their limits, daring each other to try something even more outrageous.

A shiver skittered through her body and Tenley pulled the quilt up over her arms. It had been her idea to sail out to the island and spend the night. Even though the wind had been blowing directly into shore and they’d gotten a late start, they’d tacked out, the small Sunfish skimming over the bay at a sharp angle.

But sailing against the wind had taken longer than she’d anticipated and by the time they’d reached open water, it was nearly dark. Tommy had insisted that they head back toward the lights, but Tenley had been adamant, daring him to go on. A few minutes later, a gust of wind knocked the boat over.

It was usually easy to right the boat in the calm waters of the harbor, but in the bay the currents worked against them, exhausting them both. Tenley could see the outline of the island and suggested they swim for it. But in the dark, it had been impossible to judge how far it was. In the end, Tommy had left to get help.

They’d found her clinging to the boat, four hours later. They’d found his body the next morning, washed up on a rocky beach north of town. Tenley shook her head, trying to rid herself of the memories. It had been nearly a month since she’d last dreamt of him. In many ways, she’d longed for the nights when the dreams wouldn’t haunt her. But sometimes, the dreams were good. They were happy and she could be with her brother again.

She threw the covers off her body and stood up beside the bed, stretching her arms over her head. The room was chilly, the winter wind finding its way inside through all the tiny cracks and crevices in the old cabin. Outside, the storm still raged.

Tenley rubbed her eyes, then wandered out of the bedroom toward the kitchen. She rarely slept more than four or five hours at night. For a long time, she’d been afraid to sleep, afraid of the nightmares. But she’d learned to cope, taking the good dreams with the bad.

The dogs were curled up in front of Alex’s door and they looked up as she passed. Tenley stirred the embers of the fire and tossed another log onto the grate. As she watched the flames lick at the dry birch bark, her mind wandered back to the kiss she’d shared with Alex in the kitchen.

She’d been tempted to let it go on, to see how far he’d take it. The attraction between them was undeniable. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to act upon it. She preferred uncomplicated sex and Tenley sensed that sex with Alex might be like opening a Pandora’s box of pleasure.

Restless, she got up and began to pace the perimeter of the room. She had no idea what time it was. Tenley had given up clocks long ago, preferring to let her body decide when it was time to sleep and when it was time to wake up. Besides, since Tommy’s death, she’d never slept through an entire night so what was the point of a schedule?

Tenley grabbed a throw from the back of the leather sofa and wrapped it around her, then slowly walked down the hall to the guest-room door. Dog and Pup were still asleep on the floor, pulling guard duty, defending her safety. Perhaps the dogs knew better than she did about the dangers that lay beyond the door.

“Up,” she whispered, snapping her fingers softly. They both rose, stretched, then trotted off to her bedroom. Holding her breath, Tenley opened the door and peeked inside.

Alex’s face was softly illuminated by the bedside lamp and Tenley crossed the room to stand beside the bed. His limbs were twisted in the old quilt, a bare leg and arm exposed to the chilly air in the room. Tenley let her gaze drift down from his handsome face and tousled hair, to the smooth expanse of his chest and the rippled muscles of his belly.

An ache deep inside her took her breath away and she felt an overwhelming need for physical contact, anything to make her feel again. She’d pushed aside her emotions for so long that the only way to access them was to lose herself in pleasure. Until now, all she really required was a man who wouldn’t ask for anything more than sex. But now, watching Alex sleep, she yearned for a deeper connection, a way back from the dark place where she’d lived for so long.

Was he the light she was looking for? Tenley rubbed her eyes with her fingers. Then reaching out, she held her hand close to his skin, surprised at the heat he generated. If she were warm and safe, she could forget the dream, forget the guilt. All she needed was just a few minutes of human contact.

A shiver skittered through her and without considering the consequences, she lay down beside him, tucking her backside into the curve of his body. Tenley felt him stir behind her and she closed her eyes, waiting to see what might happen.

He pushed up on his elbow and gently smoothed his hand along her arm. She glanced over her shoulder to find a confused expression on his face. Slowly, she rolled onto her back, their gazes still locked. Then, Tenley slipped her hand around his nape and gently pulled him closer, until their lips touched.

The kiss sent a slow surge of warmth through her body as he gently explored her mouth with his tongue, teasing and testing until she opened fully to his assault. With a low moan, he pulled her body beneath his. They fit perfectly against each other and Tenley arched into him, desperate to feel more.

The memories of the nightmare slowly gave way to a tantalizing pleasure. Alex ran his hand along her leg and beneath the T-shirt, then stopped suddenly, as if surprised that she wore nothing beneath. Giving him permission to continue, she slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers, searching for an intimate spot to explore.

But as the touching grew more intense, the clothing they wore seemed to get in the way. Frantic to feel his naked body against hers, Tenley sat up and tugged her T-shirt over her head, then tossed it aside. She heard his breath catch and she smiled. “It feels better without clothes.”

He grinned, then skimmed his boxers off, revealing the extent of his arousal. Unafraid to take what she wanted, Tenley wrapped her fingers around his hard shaft and gently began to stroke him. The caress brought a moan from deep in his throat and his fingers tangled in her hair as he drew her into another long, deep kiss.

“Am I awake or am I dreaming?” he asked, his lips soft against hers, his voice ragged.

“You’re dreaming,” she whispered.

“It doesn’t feel like a dream,” he countered. He cupped her breast with his palm and ran his thumb over her nipple. “You’re warm and soft. I can hear you and taste you.”

“Close your eyes,” Tenley said. “And don’t open them until I get back.”

She crawled off the bed, but he grabbed her hand to stop her retreat. “Don’t leave.”

“I’ll be right back. I promise. Close your eyes.”

He did as he was told and Tenley hurried out of the room to the bathroom. She rummaged through the cabinet above the sink until she found the box of condoms, then pulled out a string of plastic packets.

When she returned to the room, he was sitting up in bed, waiting for her. She held up the condoms. “I think we might need these.”

He chuckled. “All of those?”

Tenley felt a blush of embarrassment. It had been a while since she’d had a man in her bed. Once might not be enough. “Yes,” she said. “All of them.”

“I think you might be overestimating my abilities,” he teased.

“And you might be underestimating mine,” she replied.

When she got close to the bed, he grabbed her hand and yanked her on top of him. “Tell me what you want. I’ll do my best to comply.”

She wanted to lose herself in the act, to let her mind drift and her body take flight. She wanted to forget the past and the present and future and just exist in a haze of pleasure. She wanted the warmth and touch of another human being. And most of all, she wanted that wonderful, exhilarating feeling of release with a man moving deep inside her.

She tore a packet off the strip and opened it, then, with deliberate care, smoothed it down over his erection. Without any hesitation, Tenley straddled his hips and lowered herself on top of him. When he was buried to the hilt, she sighed. “This is what I want,” she murmured, her eyes closed, her pulse racing.

“Me, too,” he whispered.

ALEX HADN’T BEEN prepared for how good it would feel. Maybe because it had all been so unexpected. He’d always taken his time charming a woman, knowing that once he got her to bed, his interest would soon wane. But from the moment Tenley had lain down beside him, Alex knew something remarkable was about to happen.

This wasn’t some game he was playing, a diversion that he found interesting until something better came along. This was pure, raw desire, stripped of all artifice and expectations. He closed his eyes and sighed, reveling in the feel of her warmth surrounding him.

He didn’t care what it meant or where it would go after this. All he knew was that he wanted to possess her, even it if was just for an hour or two on a snowy January night.

His fingers tangled in her hair and he drew her to his mouth. Though she didn’t possess any of the attributes he normally found attractive in a woman, he couldn’t seem to get enough of her. Her skin was pale, but incredibly soft. And her breasts, though small, were perfect. She was everything he’d never had before—and never wanted. Alex smoothed his hands over her chest and down her torso to her hips. Then he sat up, wrapping her legs around his waist and burying his face in the curve of her neck.

Tenley moved against him, her head tipped forward and her eyes closed. Her hair fell across her face and he reached up and brushed it aside, watching as desire suffused her features. Though he wanted to surrender to his own passion, Alex found it far more fascinating to watch her.

The intensity of her expression made him wonder what was going through her mind. She seemed lost in her need, searching for release in an almost desperate way. He reached down between them and touched her. A soft cry slipped from her lips and Alex knew he could give her what she wanted.

Her breath came in deep gasps and he focused on the sound, trying to delay the inevitable. And then, she was there, dissolving into spasms, her body driving down once more, burying him deep inside her.

It was all Alex could take, watching her orgasm overwhelm her. He surrendered to the sensations racing through his body and a moment later, found his own release.

Tenley nestled up against him, her arms draped around his neck, her lips pressed to his ear. “Oh, that was nice,” she whispered.

“Umm,” he replied, too numb to put together a coherent sentence. “Very nice.”

She drew back, a wicked smile curling her lips. “You want to do it again?”

“No, not quite yet,” he said with a chuckle. “Just let me catch my breath for a second.” Alex wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her down beside him, dragging her leg up over his hip. “This is a nice way to spend a snowy night.” She shivered and Alex rubbed her arm. “Are you cold?”

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