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HOUSE OF PAYNE: MAX

(House of Payne #6)

Stacy Gail

House of Payne: Max

TRIGGER WARNING: This book contains flashbacks of violence and drug abuse, and the impact of these factors on family members. If you have issues with these elements, this book is not for you.

Chicago’s premiere tattoo studio, House Of Payne, is across the street from the Mad Cow diner, but it might as well be on another planet as far as waitress Paradise Simone is concerned. She’s a good girl from Waukegan with a past she’d rather forget, and a future that goes only as far as the next day. What does she know about superstars and paparazzi?

But Pari does know danger when she sees it, and tattooist Max Kulagin has it written all over him. A proper Waukegan girl should know to steer well clear, but she can’t resist Max when he leaves beautiful, intimate art sketched out on cheap diner napkins.

Beautiful, intimate art…of her.

Max knows ugliness. He was born in it. Raised in it. Had it shoved down his throat every goddamn day. So when he stumbles across true beauty, he worships it. There’s a deep sensuality in the waitress who likes to suck on her pen whenever he’s around, and he’s just the man to bring that beauty out in her. She might be a lady in the street, but one look at Pari tells him she’s going to be a freak in the bed.

And in the shower.

And while he’s driving with her head going to town in his lap.

The life Max leads might be in the spotlight, but it’s Pari who gets caught in the glare. When her past catches up to her, it’s her life that holds all the excitement, and not in a good way. But there’s no force on earth that can take Max’s beautiful Paradise away now that he’s finally found it.

93,000 Words

***This standalone, mildly erotic contemporary romance contains a woman with an oral fixation and a man who’s happy to encourage it. There are multiple sex scenes that include oral sex. No cheating, no love triangles, no cliffhangers. HEA guaranteed. Due to adult language and sexual content, this book is not intended for people under the age of eighteen***

Discover Other Titles by Stacy Gail

Bitterthorn, Texas Series (Carina Press):

Ugly Ducklings Finish First

Starting From Scratch (novella)

One Hot Second

Where There’s A Will

Earth Angels Series (Carina Press):

Nobody’s Angel (novella)

Savage Angel

Wounded Angel

Dangerous Angel

House Of Payne Series:

House of Payne: Payne

House of Payne: Scout

House of Payne: Twist

House of Payne: Rude

House of Payne: Steele

House of Payne: Max

Scorpio Series:

Year of the Scorpio: Part One

Year of the Scorpio: Part Two

Novellas:

Crime Wave In A Corset (Part of the steampunk holiday anthology, A Clockwork Christmas)

How The Glitch Saved Christmas (Part of the sci-fi holiday anthology, A Galactic Holiday)

Zero Factor (Part of the cyberpunk anthology, Cybershock)

Best Man, Worst Man

Connect with Stacy Gail:

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All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. Characters and names of real persons who appear in the book are used fictitiously.

Acknowledgments

Special thanks to Kristi Metcalf, who totally understands my obsession with Josh Mario John. She and I have drooled and perved over many a pic of that fine fellow, and as many of you know, it’s much more fun to drool and perv with a friend egging you on. :D

On that note, thanks to Josh Mario John, beard and tattoo god of my dreams. Max wouldn’t have existed without this yummy specimen of manhood to inspire me. Thanks for existing, Josh! *fangirl sigh*

Thanks to all my Facebook friends who helped me out with non-swearing alternatives. Pari’s G-rated mouth really stumped me (since I swear like a sailor, heh), so I’m grateful for all the awesome suggestions!

And, as always, thank you, Jade C. Jamison for kicking off the inspiration for House Of Payne in the first place. LYLAS!

Snow peppered the diner’s night-dark windows, the wind off Lake Michigan so strong it rattled the glass in its frame. The sound drew Pari Simone’s attention away from wiping down the chipped Formica counter that was at least twice as old as she was, and a sigh escaped her. After enduring the coldest January on record, two weeks into February had already proven it was just going to be more of the same old, same old.

Great.

With a shake of her head she resumed her task, no longer missing the swing of her once-long hair. Man, had she been way off-base when she’d thought life would be different in Chicago. Growing up in sleepy Waukegan, a small town less than fifty miles north of where she now stood, life in the big city had always looked so perfect to her. Crappy things like blizzards, bad guys, lame tippers and rundown apartments were expected in Waukegan, but Chicago? Somehow she’d thought life would be better.

Four months after transplanting herself into the urban heart of Chicago, she still had to laugh at how naïve she’d been.

The blare of a car horn made her glance once more at the heavily-trafficked street beyond the windows. That was one difference between Waukegan and Chicago—the big city didn’t give a damn about what time it was. Eight o’clock at night and her hometown was ready to roll up its sidewalks, but not Chicago. Oh, no. Like New York, it was a city that never slept.

That was fine by her. She didn’t sleep much, either. After all, when she slept she dreamed, and when she dreamed, more often than not it was about her hair falling to a oil-stained garage floor.

When she woke from dreams like that, she was flooded with the fear she’d awakened the entire apartment complex with her screams.

So, yeah. Sleep wasn’t high on her list of priorities.

Pari began to turn away when a sudden movement caught her eye. A man pushed through the black-framed, frosted-glass doors of the upscale tattoo parlor across the street. Her steady pulse stumbled suddenly as she spotted the edgy, dark blonde faux hawk haircut, the broad shoulders on an otherwise lean and wiry frame, and hands darkened by tattoos. As he flipped the hood of his jacket up to shield his bearded face against the harsh winter wind, she hustled toward the kitchen while her stomach filled with a weird mix of butterflies and ice.

Him again.

The napkin artist.

He was running behind schedule.

Maybe he wasn’t coming to the diner, Pari tried telling herself in an effort to calm her suddenly off-the-charts nerves. After all, there were plenty of eateries more appealing than the Mad Cow, a diner that had been shackled with the dreadful name decades before it had become the common moniker for a deadly disease. He was probably headed to The Blue Pig, an uber-trendy Japanese-Hawaiian fusion place a few doors down. Or maybe Rubs, renowned for its international collection of unusual barbecue sauces—

Behind her, the bell over the diner’s door jingled. In an instant, she hoofed it double-time into the kitchen, her heart thudding so hard she could feel the shift of her scratchy waitress’s uniform against her skin. Trendy food and a gimmicky collection of stupid sauces weren’t this guy’s thing. Oh, no. Shallow posers cared about trends and gimmicks, because they cared about what the world thought of them.

The guy who’d just walked in was no shallow poser.

He was a straight-up, legitimate bad boy.

Not that she knew him. She didn’t. She’d barely spoken a dozen words to him, and most of those words were along the lines of, “Are you ready to order?”

She didn’t even know his name.

But…

She knew him.

Everything about him screamed anti-establishment, from his full-on lumberjack beard, to the zipper-laden Harley-Davidson black jacket he wore over his never-ending collection of hoodies.

He was an anarchist.

A nonconformist.

A danger.

She’d had enough of danger to last her at least two lifetimes.

Funny thing, though. The artwork he often left for her to find didn’t fit the image she had of a dangerous man.

In fact, nothing really fit when it came to her napkin artist.

She’d never forget the first time she’d stumbled across the tattooed man’s art. She’d still been new to her job at the Mad Cow, with every day bringing some kind of spill, or rude customer, or broken glass, or some other tear-inducing catastrophe valiant servers the world over knew all too well. The tattooed man hadn’t talked much that first time, as far as she could remember. But boy howdy, had he ever stared at her, as though he was trying to hypnotize her with the weight of his gaze alone.

That had definitely not been her idea of fun. For a while she’d thought he might have recognized her. Maybe he’d been passing through Waukegan over the summer when her life had hit the skids, and he’d seen the local news stories. But he’d left without mentioning Waukegan, Harvey Nelson or her so-called sister Vana, so she’d scooped up the generous tip he’d left and worked on clearing the table.

That was when she’d found it—the first piece of napkin art he’d left hidden under his plate.

All too vividly she recalled how the world had faded away as she stared at it. At first she hadn’t even recognized it as one of the Mad Cow’s cheap paper napkins; from edge to edge, it had been covered in something that was far too beautiful to ever be referred to as a doodle. She did doodles—stick figures and hearts, or whatever. Dumb stuff.

What the tattooed man had left behind was worthy of being hung in an art museum.

It was a detailed black ink sketch of a woman’s elegant, long neck with the rounded line of a chin and a soft, pursed mouth with a single dimple at its side. It was the mouth and dimple that told her the sketch was of her. She’d never really liked the shape of her mouth, with her upper lip equal in size to her lower one, like a little kid’s. It made her appear not as serious or studious as she was; if anything, it gave the world the impression that she was exactly the opposite. Heaven knew she’d never forget the day her first-ever boyfriend had said she had a “blowjob” mouth. She hadn’t even known what that was at the time. When she’d looked it up…

Ahem.

Pari had always been the straitlaced one in her family. The good girl.

That was why she’d die before she’d admit it, but that might have been the day her secret oral fixation had been born.

She might not like her mouth, but she loved the way the tattooed man depicted it. As time went on, other works of napkin art began to appear, and she loved them, too. Before she knew it, she began looking forward to seeing what he’d come up with next. Another portion of her face had appeared, this time her eyes, and she knew they were hers thanks to the C-shaped scar near the outer corner of her left eye. Unfortunately, the look he’d given those eyes didn’t sit well with her. He’d depicted her as wary, mistrustful, even jaded.

And sad.

So unbearably sad.

On that score, her napkin artist had struck out, big-time. Sad? As if. For almost a year she’d refused to allow herself to feel anything, much less sadness. Who was he to claim she was freaking sad?

The nerve.

There were a few works of napkin art that had nothing to do with her. One time he’d left a breathtaking pen and ink street scene sketch of the L platform down the street where she took the Red Line to her shabby apartment in Chinatown. Another time he’d left a quick rendering of two kindergarten-aged brothers trying to kill each other over crayons while their mother, oblivious and indifferent, sat glued to her phone. Still another napkin was covered in a picture of a monkey wearing sunglasses, masturbating as it sat on a motorcycle.

She had no clue what that was about.

But mostly her napkin artist left images of her. Her profile. Her face. Her smile. Her body in its plain, retro blue and white uniform. Her hands that she kept self-manicured in varying shades of purple.

And her booty.

At least a third of the napkins he’d left had something to do with her butt. It was by far his favorite theme. Again and again he’d captured its upside-down heart shape while she stood with her back to him while taking someone’s order, or bent over to pick something up, or leaning over the counter with her bum arched out provocatively. Other times he’d imagined her wearing something altogether different from her uniform, like tight-fitting Daisy Dukes, or a string bikini with a beach for a background.

Or, nothing at all.

Three times now he had left behind drawings of her in the nude, and while this freaked her out no end, it was clear the poses he’d left her in were the kind an artist’s model would use. The first one she’d been depicted as curled up in a way where nothing intimate was shown. The second was of her standing at a table taking someone’s order while wearing a uniform that must have been made of Saran Wrap.

The message that he’d sat there imagining her naked came through loud and clear.

The third one had her standing with only her back showing as she stretched up to pluck what was probably an apple from a tree. Again and again she’d told herself it was merely an artistic rendition of the Temptation of Eve, but Eve hadn’t had pixie-short hair dyed such a dark violet it appeared almost black.

Pari did.

That was why she was running back into the kitchen like a child afraid of the Bogeyman, instead of being the calmly detached adult she usually she was. This man messed with her emotional numbness with his hard-staring eyes, maniacal smile and shockingly intimate artwork. She couldn’t have that. Feeling nothing was how she made it from one day to the next. She had to shut down whatever it was he was trying to do to her.

Trying…

And succeeding.

“Hey, Bosko.” Hoping for a casual look, Pari sidled up to the diner’s owner and chief cook, Lenny Bosko. He was edging into middle age, had a massive barrel-like chest and a resting-bitch face that had scared the hell out of her when she’d first landed at the Mad Cow. As time went on, she discovered Bosko had an unrelenting love for all things sci-fi, could do the Vulcan hand sign with both hands and made his own cosplay costumes whenever Chicago held their version of Comic-Con. Come to find out, it was hard to be intimidated by a man who took pride in going out in public dressed as Optimus Prime. “It’s pretty dead out there, and we probably won’t get a lot of traffic with that storm kicking up. Is it all right if I take my break now?”

Instead of answering right away, Bosko shot a glance up at the clock above the grill that sizzled with a lone burger patty and two halves of a toasting burger bun. “It’s only eight o’clock. You feeling all right, kiddo?”

Ugh. She had a quarter of a century already under her belt, yet he dared to call her kiddo when she knew very well he collected Funko Pop! Dragon Ball Z figurines. “Absolutely. I just thought that it might be smart to take advantage of how quiet it is right now.”

“Pari, babe, you got a customer.” Edie Pittman, approximately ten years older than Pari and light years ahead her in waitressing prowess, came along behind her to smack her order tablet playfully against Pari’s butt cheek. “It’s Mr. Tats again. I’ll bet if you unbutton your front a little and lean over to flash some cleavage while you pour his coffee, he’ll leave you another fifty-dollar tip.”

“My cleavage is worth so much more than fifty bucks.” Tension sang through her while she kept her smile screwed firmly in place. Dang it. The guy who looked like he bathed in danger and rinsed off in testosterone was not going to go away, and all she could think about was whether or not he was picturing her naked… “Mr. Tats is a good tipper, though. I wouldn’t mind sharing some of that goodness, Edie, so if you want to take that table—”

“Hey, whatsa matter?” Bosko threw a frown her way while flipping the burger. He’d been flipping burgers most of his life, so it came as no surprise he didn’t even have to look to see what he was doing. “You got a problem with this guy? You want me to go and take his order for him, maybe have a few words with him as well?”

“Oh, no.” Horrified, Pari quickly held out her hands palms up, ready to push Bosko back if she had to. “I was just trying to share the wealth, that’s all. No need to go daytime-drama on me just because I’m so full of awesome generosity.”

“Yeah?” Clearly unconvinced, Bosko lofted his spatula like it was a sword. “You just tell me if he ever bothers you, and I’ll take care of him. I’ve watched The Matrix ninety-seven times, and in HiDef. That means I know the moves better than Keanu Reeves, so feel free to sing out if you need backup.”

Edie rolled her eyes and tucked a stray dark blonde lock of hair behind her ear. “This isn’t a movie, Bosko, and the only kind of fighting you’ve ever done was over who got to be dungeon master during your weekly D and D game.”

“I’ll have you know lots of martial artists train by visualization. For instance, after watching Bucky and Captain America’s final battle in Winter Soldier on repeat for a full twenty-four hours, I can now do this.” He executed some kind of kicking move that made Pari genuinely fear for Bosko’s future ability to have children.

“Jesus, Bosko, you look like you’re having some kind of seizure.” Apparently just as alarmed, Edie leapt forward while Bosko groaned and doubled over. “On a scale of one to ten, how much pain are you in? If it’s over six, I promise I won’t laugh.”

Pari left them to it and mentally girded herself for what was to come. Ever since her parents had died last April, she’d had plenty of practice coping with things she didn’t want to face. Taking Mr. Tats’s order was something she could do in her sleep. This was no big deal.

No.

Big.

Deal.

Head held high, she moved past the counter toward the booth he’d taken in her section. Without warning, he looked up and locked his gaze on her as if he’d been waiting his whole life to do it.

Bang-zoom, to the moon.

Pari bit her lip, sucking on it hard while he watched her approach. Why did that phrase zip through her mind every time she saw him? Why did she want to splay her hand to her chest in full-on pearl-clutch mode whenever that crazy smile of his got turned her way? And why in the world did she invariably bite her lip to keep from licking it in the irrational hope that he would see that action and like it so much he’d once again draw it on a napkin?

The answer to all those questions was clear.

She’d lost her freaky little mind.

The fact was, she wasn’t the kind of woman who got hot and bothered over some random guy. Generally speaking, she preferred books to people. When her parents had been alive, they’d praised her for being steady and dependable. Her one great love affair with a botanist major, whose ideal date had been to take her to see the carrion, or “corpse” flower, had never moved her beyond the “well, this is awkward” phase of sex.

But that was okay.

People like her didn’t feel bang-zoom, to the moon. Until very recently, the bang-zoom thought had never even occurred to her.

And yet…

One look from her napkin artist, and she blushed all the way from her scalp to her inner thighs.

Until he’d shown up, she hadn’t even known a woman could blush like that.

And breathing? Yeah, no. Forget breathing. That was an ability she couldn’t hold on to whenever he was near. It was the way he looked at her that did it.

No.

Not looked.

Stared.

Like he was trying to capture her with the power of his gaze alone.

But being captured was a no-no in her book.

She’d never be anyone’s captive again.

“Good evening. I’m Pari, your waitress. Welcome to the Mad Cow.” She always said the same thing, as if she had never seen him before. That was her plan—make him believe she didn’t remember him. That he wasn’t special, that he was just another patron in a sea of people she served during her four-to-midnight shift. Maybe then her napkin artist would take the hint and try capturing someone else with those gorgeous blue eyes. “Our specials this evening are country-fried steak with homestyle mashed potatoes and brown gravy. Or, if you like breakfast for dinner, we have stuffed French toast for—”

“Hello, Pari.”

She had to work at stifling a shiver.

Hello, Pari.

Heaven help her, this man.

His voice was the freaking bomb. Gravelly and just above a rough-edged whisper. His accent—something Slavic or Eastern European—did nutty things to her pulse. That was one seriously good voice he had on him. Sexy.

Problem was, she didn’t want to notice sexy now. She had no room in her life for sexy.

Sad, but true.

“Hi.” She fought the smile that wanted to appear, but boy, was it difficult. When a man sounded like sex, Mother Nature had hardwired the female face to smile in appreciation. “So, um… about the specials…”

“I’ll start with coffee and go from there.” Lazily he reached over to grab a menu from its place behind the napkin dispenser. And all the while, he never took his eyes off her. “I’ve been meaning to ask you… Do you have a favorite dish here?”

“I always go for the club sandwich, extra bacon.” The answer was out before she thought about it. “Bacon is life.”

A huff of laughter escaped him while his eyes just kept holding her in place. “That would make a good tattoo.”

“You would know.” Again she bit her lip, but it was too late. The personal observation was already out there, the first she’d ever made since he started coming in. Worse yet, when his smile widened she knew he hadn’t missed it. Drat. “I’ll just get that coffee.”

“Don’t rush,” he said as she whirled away. “I’m in no hurry, Pari. About anything.”

Dang it, dang it, dang it, she had to be better than this, was all she could think as she retreated behind the counter. Then she took a deep breath, trying to find a shred of calm when the coffee mug she’d gotten out rattled against the workstation as she set it down. He was just another customer. That was all. In less than an hour, he’d be back where he belonged, across the street in that House Of Payne tattoo place, doing whatever it was he did there.

Considering the art he’d left behind he was probably a tattoo artist, she thought, her mind wandering. But it wouldn’t surprise her if he were a model for tattoos as well. Considering there were tattoos on his neck showing above his collar, he was probably covered in body art. Anyone interested in tattoos would want to take a look at him without his clothes on. She certainly would be interested in seeing him without his clothes on.

“Oh, man.” She sucked in a breath and reached for the coffeepot like it was a lifeline. Wow. Welcome to the new low—thinking about a customer naked. That was so not her. She had way more important things to think about, like paying bills, and not spilling anything all over him so that she might have the chance to lick it off him, and then she would finally know what he tasted like…

Arrghhh.

To be on the safe side, Pari carefully poured the coffee before she made her way out from behind the counter, remembering at the last minute to bring creamer and extra napkins as well. By the time she’d set everything down in front of him, she had a plan.

Keep her eyes on her order pad.

Get his order.

Run like crazy.

Simple plans were usually the best.

“All right.” Hoping for a brisk tone, Pari reached into the pocket of her white apron and pulled out her order pad and pen. “Have you made up your mind on what you want to have?”

There was a long beat of silence. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop her gaze from sliding to him. He was watching her, as usual.

Crazy, how she was beginning to love the sensation of this man’s eyes on her.

“Yes, Pari. I have definitely made up my mind.”

She waited another second, then nodded encouragingly when he didn’t say anything. “Go ahead.”

“I would like a pretty woman with pale gray eyes, short purple-black hair, and one dimple in her cheek to sit down with me and tell me if Pari is really her name. Then for dessert, I would like her phone number and to know the time she gets off from work so that I could see her safely home.”

Her throat snapped shut. Her brain followed suit. If it weren’t for the sound of the storm beyond the diner’s windows, she would have thought the entire world had ground to a stop and she was isolated with this man in their own private bubble of suspended animation.

“My number.” Repeating what someone said was a great way to stall for time, a trick she’d picked up from her sister. It was one of the few manipulative tricks from Vana that she’d chosen to keep. “Sorry, but even if I had a phone, I wouldn’t give my number to a stranger.”

“Max Kulagin. Born in Moscow twenty-nine years ago. Became a naturalized citizen at twenty-one. There.” He gave her a wink as his maniacal grin flashed in his beard. “I’m no longer a stranger.”

Max. Her napkin artist’s name was Max. That was nice. “Trust me, you’re still a stranger.”

“Why don’t you have a phone?” he went on, clearly possessing that weird man-habit of being deaf to things he wasn’t interested in hearing. “This is America. Everyone has a phone, a car and an apple pie. I’m sure it said that on my citizen’s test.”

That made her smile, albeit wryly. “Then I’m really un-American. I don’t have a car, either.”

“Really?” The brilliance of his smile faded as his brows went up, though she had the strangest feeling he wasn’t altogether shocked at her admission. “How do you get to work?”

“Gotta love the Chicago Transit Authority. The Red Line is the only way to go.” Then she shook her head. Why she was telling him any of this was beyond her. “So what would you like to order?”

“Max.”

It took her a second to catch up. “What would you like to order, Max?”

The smile came back, as if she’d pleased him in a big way. “I gave you my order, Pari.”

Ugh. “From the menu. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not on it.”

“Is this because you still think we’re strangers?”

That was oversimplifying things, but… “Sure.”

“I work as a tattooist across the street. In my spare time I like to draw and paint things that people won’t let me put on their skin.”

That probably explained the masturbating monkey on a motorcycle, but she wisely decided not to mention that.

“I like eating raw cookie dough while reading the warning label that tells me not to. My favorite color used to be blue, but now I think it might be the color of your eyes, which reminds me of the color of rainclouds. Harleys are the only motorcycles worth riding. You just used my name, so I know you know me. What else do you need?”

“The order of what you would like to eat.” When his crazy smile sharpened, she realized how her comment could have been—and obviously was—taken. “From the menu. Eat from the menu.”

“No need to get excited.” Still grinning at what had to be dirty thoughts—and good grief, those same thoughts were busily filtering through her brain to once again heat the place between her legs—he folded his arms on the table. “I’ll have your favorite meal, Pari, and a cup of chicken noodle soup.”

“Got it.” Thank goodness.

“Why don’t you join me?” he went on when she tried to figure out how to do a controlled sprint back to the kitchen without looking like a total nut job. “I hate eating alone.”

“I’m working.”

“I’m your only customer. Take a break.”

“I’m not scheduled to go on break for another half hour. By the way, the sandwich comes with fries, but you could have onion rings if you want.”

“French fries are fine. What are you afraid of, Pari?”

That stopped her cold. “Why do you think I’m afraid?”

“I know what fear is, better than most. I know it when I see it, and I see it in you. Why are you afraid of me?”

The option of lying to him surfaced, but she immediately discarded it. She had no tolerance for lies anymore. “These days I think a part of me is afraid of everything, mainly because I no longer trust anything. Please don’t taking it personally. That’s just the way I am now.”

When he didn’t respond—just studied her with those unblinking blue eyes—she turned and at last made her getaway.

“You sure you’re going to be all right?” Winding a long scarf around her neck, Edie paused to look over at Pari, who was busy buttoning up her less-than-toasty wool stadium jacket that never failed to make her wish it could magically turn into a big, puffy parka. “I could always ask Ramon to give you a lift.”

Pari glanced over at her coworker. There were a couple other waitresses on the Mad Cow’s roster whom Pari had worked with before—including one that reminded her strongly of her self-absorbed little sister—but Edie was by far her favorite. “And take you guys a dozen blocks in the opposite direction? In this weather?”

“So what? That man is way more in love what that stupid truck than he is with me. He’ll probably thank you for the excuse to test it out in a blizzard.”

“Ramon is crazy-hot for you, Edie.”

“Meh, I don’t know about crazy-hot, but at least we can keep each other warm during the winter, so I guess that’s something.”

Pari just shook her head. “Nevertheless, no matter how much Ramon adores his new truck, I kind of doubt anyone would thank me for dragging them around town in a blizzard.”

“Did I mention his truck is all-wheel drive? And that Ramon seems to have more than a couple screws that are loose?”

“Talk about a dangerous combination.” With a smile, Pari tugged a knit beanie over her hair. There had been a time when it would have been a struggle to get all her hair tucked in underneath it, but her long tresses were gone, along with the rest of the ties she’d had to her old life. “You’re sweet to offer, but I’m good, I promise. Give Ramon a hug for me.” Before Edie could insist, Pari waved her mittened hand and ducked out of the minuscule employees’ room.

Midnight was never an ideal time to travel in any city, much less Chicago, and the blizzard made it that much worse. A few seconds after Pari stepped out onto the sidewalk, her nose went numb along with the few inches of skin exposed at her knee below the hem of her skirt and above the tops of her lace-up snow boots.

Frostbite city, here I come, she thought grimly, turning in the direction of the L platform that would take her south toward Chinatown and her tiny apartment overlooking I-90. She couldn’t wait to get on the train; not because she was anxious to get to her place, but simply to escape the icy wind. The apartment she’d been living in since she’d left Waukegan wasn’t home and never would be.

In her heart of hearts she believed she’d never have a true home again.

To fend off the wave of darkness that often tried to drown her, Pari tried to bring the cold around her into her heart, and focused instead on pragmatic issues like how she should be grateful she didn’t have a hard commute. That was by design, of course. Her apartment’s proximity to the train was how she’d found her job at the Mad Cow. Once she’d landed in the city and had found a place she could afford, she’d gotten on the Red Line, determined to find something, anything, that she could easily get to without making any train transfers. She’d needed all things to be uncomplicated at that time in her life. Uncomplicated was exactly what she got when she found the Mad Cow.

Until Max Kulagin had popped up.

Max.

Before she gave it a thought, she took off a mitten and shoved a hand into her jacket pocket to make sure the napkin he’d left for her tonight was still there. He’d focused on her mouth again, with her teeth sinking into the fullness of her lower lip, just as it had when she’d been talking with him. But the sketch departed from reality by having a masculine hand cupping her chin in an undeniably intimate lover’s hold.

The masculine hand that held her chin was covered in tattoos.

She shivered and held the napkin carefully so it wouldn’t crease.

“Hey. ‘Scuse me.”

She jerked her head up when an unfamiliar male voice came out of the driving snow. Instantly alert she took a half-step back, ready to dive back into the diner if necessary. A second later she relaxed when she saw a bundled-up cabbie standing at his idling taxi’s open door. Geez. She should know better than to blank out while on a lonely city street. More than anyone, she knew how vulnerable a woman on her own was.

“Uh, yes?” Mentally adding up her meager tips for the evening, she still weighed the possibility of taking the cab, at least to the L platform. Not only had Max given her another huge tip, but it was just too fricking freezing to be outdoors for longer than a few minutes. “Are you available for a fare?”

“Depends. Are you Pari?”

Her jaw dropped. Whoa. “Yes. But how—”

“This cab was hired by a guy named Max to pick up a woman called Pari over here at the Mad Cow, at this time. So, you ready to go, or what?”

She couldn’t seem to get her jaw re-hinged. “Hired? As in, already paid for?”

“Yeah.”

“But, uh…” Feverishly she tried to figure it out, but she kept coming up blank. Max, a total stranger, had somehow learned when she got off work, then hired a nice warm taxi for her. “I live close to Chinatown, on Cermak. Are you sure…?”

“Lady, it’s my job to drive. You want Chinatown, I go to Chinatown. You want Navy Pier, I go to the Pier. You want Midway, which is way the hell and gone, I go to Midway. So, are you in or out? Either way, I get paid. And by the way, while you’re trying to decide what you’re going to do, I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

“Right. Chinatown it is.” She would pay Max back tomorrow, she decided, giving her address once she was in the back and nearly weeping in relief at the warmth that enveloped her. It was the right thing to do, after all. She didn’t want to feel beholden to him, while at the same time she didn’t want him to think she was a low-class ingrate. First thing tomorrow she’d be on House Of Payne’s doorstep to thank him for being so thoughtful, and then she’d give him what she owed him.

And he was thoughtful. He didn’t look it, but she was sitting in the evidence that he was.

As the city rolled by beyond the cab’s windows, Pari watched it with unseeing eyes. It was amazing, really, how genuinely good this Max Kulagin was. On the outside, she doubted there were too many men in the world who looked scarier. His hair was trimmed military-short on either side of his head, while the top was a loosely flowing mane of dark gold hair. His deep set eyes stared out from under sharp and constantly brooding eyebrows, and the lower half of his face was covered in a full beard a few shades darker than his hair. Then there were the tattoos peeking out of his collar and covering the backs of his hands. Glimpses of body art like that, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like wearing nothing at all.

Anyone would have been curious, she thought, loosening her coat’s collar because, dang it all, it was getting warm in that taxi. She’d served Max enough diner food to know he could pack it away, yet every time he took off his winter coat, she couldn’t help but check out how slim his waist and hips were. His chest and shoulders were more filled out, but there was no mistaking the inherent lean elegance of his build. Generally speaking, artists weren’t known for their physiques, but she had a feeling that underneath all that intriguing ink there was one heck of a body just waiting to be discovered, first by sight, then by touch, then by yummy, yummy taste…

Whew.

Surely the cabbie had the taxi’s heater set on Volcano.

“There you go, delivered safe and sound.” The cabbie pulled up to the curb, eyeing the darkened doorway beyond a rusted gate and fence around the three-story, mid-century brick apartment building. “Have I got the right place?”

“Yep.” Pari dug into her purse for her wallet and keys, all the while doing a quick calculation. “I’m assuming you get tipped the same amount as a waitress?”

“Your guy covered the tip, so you’re all set.”

“He even got the tip?” She looked up to stare at the cabbie via the rearview mirror, too stunned to correct his assumption that Max was her guy. “That was…wow. That was seriously sweet of him.”

“In weather like this, he should’ve gotten a cab for you if he couldn’t drive you himself. That’s what men do for their ladies.”

“He’s not my… never mind.” Not wanting to debate the issue, she smiled her farewell and scooted out as quickly as possible. But as the cab pulled back out onto the snowy streets and the bitter cold sliced into her once more, she couldn’t help but marvel at the simple generosity of a man she barely knew. With no ulterior motives, Max Kulagin had gone out of his way to take care of her.

Why?

Because he had a kind heart and a generous soul under that scary, nonconformist exterior.

Because he was as open and good as he seemed.

Because…

A silver pickup truck, an Escalade EXT, pulled up to take the place of the cab. Halfway through the rusty gate, Pari paused to glance back at the vehicle, her skin prickling while internal alarms went off so hard they seemed to shake the ground beneath her feet.

Instinct honed from the past year’s trauma screamed at her that this truck was here because of her.

Oh, no.

It was as if her feet had frozen to the ground as she watched in horror as the passenger’s window roll down. Her heart slammed into her throat, and she managed to take a half-step back in preparation to run.

Harvey Nelson.

God, she’d never be able to be free of him. His stringy blonde hair, straggly goatee and thin, pockmarked face highlighted by that sharp, Scrooge-like chin. Somehow he’d escaped from prison and was coming for her…

Poised for flight, her muscles instead locked in place when the vehicle’s interior light blinked on. Calmly, Max Kulagin leaned across the passenger’s seat to look at her.

“How…?” In a blink, the bone-crushing fear morphed into a tidal wave of outrage even as he gave her a wicked smile. Later, she’d deal with her PTSD moment of irrational terror. Right now she had to do her best to keep from murdering a napkin artist. “Guess how stupid I am? I’m so stupid I actually thought you hired that cab as a sweet and gentlemanly gesture.”

“Gentlemanly? Shit, that’s a first. Say it again, I like the sound of it.”

What the eff. “But it wasn’t a gentlemanly gesture, was it? You hired that fricking taxi just so you could follow me home.”

“I hired that taxi because I wanted to see you home safely, and I knew a cautious girl like you wouldn’t agree to that.” That unrepentant smile was now a white slash in his beard, and he lifted a shoulder. “And yeah, I hired it so I could follow you home. So what? In good weather it’s not that far from work, is it? Nice commute.”

“You…” She was so flabbergasted and furious, she was actually stuttering. “You son of a biscuit-eater.”

His brows shot up. “What? Biscuit? Like British cookies, or like bread…?”

She waved his comment aside with an impatient, mitten-covered hand. “Why in the world would you do such a thing? You don’t even know me.”

“I’m getting to know you. This is what people normally do when they get to know each other.”

“No, it isn’t. This is…” Stalking. Obsessive. Super wacky crazy-pants. Take your pick. “This is not what people normally do.”

“No? Okay, fine. It’s what I do. It’s cool that I’m original.”

Instead of pointing out the difference between being original and being a stalker, she thought it best to change course. “Why not just ask me where I live? Why go to all this trouble?”

“You weren’t going to tell me what I wanted to know. And if you look at it from that perspective, it’s your fault for being so cautious that I had to go to these great lengths to see you home safely. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Holy freaking wow.” She stared at him, unable to remember when she had ever been so staggered by another human’s arrogance. “Are you for real? There isn’t some crazy reality show filming this farce with hidden cameras, is there?”

He frowned. “What?”

“I’m can’t believe you’re not following some kind of script or something. How can you say it’s my fault that I made you use sneaky tactics to find out where I live? That doesn’t even make sense.”

“It makes sense to me, and that’s all that matters. I wanted to see you home safely, and now I have. Get inside, Pari,” he went on, as if ordering her around was something he did every day—something else that rubbed her the wrong way. “It’s too cold for you to stand out there in the snow arguing with me. Unless you want to come in here and we can finish the debate in private?”

She took a step back before she even thought about it. “Go away,” she said firmly, so irate she barely felt the cold. “I’d thank you for the taxi, but considering you had ulterior motives, you can forget it.”

“Get inside, Pari. I won’t leave until I know you’re safe and warm.”

With a growl, she did as instructed. Not because he’d told her to do it, but because she was done talking with him and it was stupid standing there in a full-blown blizzard. But it rankled that it appeared she was following his instructions like some docile puppy.

Tomorrow, she’d make sure the high-and-mighty Max Kulagin understood that just because she was nice, she was anything but docile.

Max strolled into the lobby of House Of Payne from the back hallway, Disturbed’s “Sound of Silence” playing overhead as he tucked his keys away. As always, the studio was jumping even though it was only three in the afternoon. Other tattoo parlors usually had major downtime while the sun was still riding high, but not House Of Payne. From the moment the doors opened in the morning for first shift, it was wall-to-wall people waiting to get their ink done.

He expected no less. After all, the House was the best ink-slinging studio in the world.

It was the way House Of Payne approached body art that put it head and shoulders above the rest. Unlike every other tattoo parlor on the planet, art was king at the House. His employer, Sebastian Payne, didn’t just hire the best tattooists he could find throughout the world. He hired the best artists. Then he trained them personally to bring their art to their living canvases.

For an artist like himself, working at House Of Payne was better than Disneyland at Christmas.

The emphasis on how art was revered was evident the moment a person walked through the House’s doors. The open-plan lower level looked nothing like a tattoo parlor. Most studios were small, uninspiring holes in the wall; dark and dingy, with tattoo designs affixed to the walls with thumbtacks.

No imagination, and even less reverence for the art.

House Of Payne was different, in the same way a diamond was different from a piece of gravel.

Max would never forget the first time he’d walked into House Of Payne. For several seconds he’d thought he’d come to the wrong address. Its interior had been fashioned after the sophisticated elegance of high-end art galleries, with glossy black marble floors, stark white modular walls and brilliant white lights that spotlighted the House’s most famous tattoos that had been recreated on canvas. Twin columns of flatscreen TVs soared well over ten feet high, one at the edge of reception and the other by the gift shop, and today the screens were displaying the photos and backgrounds of every tattooist within the House.

The House’s catalogue of body art could be accessed via touchscreens embedded into the chevron-shaped reception desk near the front doors. It could also be accessed at half a dozen recently installed touchscreen kiosks that were set along the edge of the lower level art gallery. On the far right side of the building behind the reception desk, a glass brick staircase soared up to a wide mezzanine area that looked out over the first floor. That was where the executive offices and private tattooing booths were located.

His home away from home.

“There he is, Mr. Cover Model.” Scout Fournier, manager of House Of Payne, glanced over at him as he moved behind the reception desk. Eight months pregnant with her second child, Scout was still the embodiment of rebel-loving rockabilly, wearing a blue skirt with anchors all over it and a white sailor-style top complete with blue kerchief under the collar. A wide swath of blue cut through her upswept brown hair, and the color was echoed in her nails as she tapped the surface of her ever-present tablet. “Have you seen the magazine covers yet? Payne’s just received the digital images of all of them, and he’s so pleased he’s borderline losing his shit.”

“Payne’s always borderline losing his shit over something.”

“Yeah, but for once it’s in a good way. Already he’s decided he’s going to have all six of the covers blown up and framed so he can hang them somewhere around here in the reception area. He’s even wanting to do a big reveal party at the end of the month, piggybacking that event with his tenth anniversary bash.”

Max couldn’t stop himself from grimacing. “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope.” Grinning, Scout looked up from her fast one-handed typing. “Don’t tell me you’re surprised. You’ve been around long enough to know Payne never passes up a chance to promote the House.”

“Promote, yeah, but hanging that shit up in here isn’t promoting. That’s grandstanding.”

“Not in this business, pal. And who are you to squawk about this? It’s not every day GQ calls up and wants to do a photo shoot, you know. Half the artists on the House’s talent roster weren’t chosen to be on those special-edition covers, but you, Twist and Angel together, Rocket, Tag, Loki and Payne were. If you want to blame someone for putting you in the spotlight, look no further than a mirror. It’s your own damn fault you wound up on the cover of a world-famous magazine.”

He tried to boil her alive with a glare. “How is it my fault?”

“You got so good at what you do, you made yourself famous, dumbass. Find a way to cope.”

“Great,” he muttered, his lip curling into a sneer. “Just what a tattooist doesn’t need, a stupid photo taken not of the art, but of the artist.”

“You watch your mouth, Kulagin.” In a heartbeat Scout’s easy humor vanished, and when she took a step his way he half-believed she did it in order to take a swing at him. Eight months pregnant or not, Scout would always be a brawler. “The greatest portrait photographer of this century, my husband, spent an entire fucking day on your ass, sweating bullets trying to get the true essence of Max Kulagin, and translate that shit onto film. The art he captured isn’t just all over you in the form of your tattoo designs. It’s within the photo itself, and how Ivar was able to capture the true you. That’s his gift. You call it stupid again, and we’ll see how quickly I can make you eat your teeth.”

“Scout.” Far from alarmed—though he knew very well Scout had zero moral issues when it came to knocking his block off—he grinned to offer up the easy target of his teeth. “Tell me, what kind of private pictures does Ivar take of you to capture your true essence? Does it perhaps involve whips and chains?”

Like he’d known it would, the comment doused her righteous fury and she had to fight not to smile. “You’re such a perv.”

“I’m right though, aren’t I? Whips, chains, perhaps a well-used a ball gag—”

“Keep pushing and I’ll give you a firsthand tour of my dungeon.”

“I knew it.” He winked at her, letting her know without words that he was conceding the field. He’d forgotten her husband had been the photographer, so she had every right to jump down his throat. Hell, her loyalty was part of the reason why he’d conceded so quickly. As far as he was concerned, loyalty was just about the most beautiful thing there was in an otherwise ugly world. “What do I have on my schedule for today?”

“Your first client is probably going to be your hardest. Fair warning—I’ve blocked out four hours for this one.”

He quirked a brow. “What is it?”

“The client wants a cover-up tattoo to go over a Mr. Rogers tat that he got in college.”

“Loki’s the cover-up tattoo specialist.”

“Yeah, but Loki’s booked solid, and the client is into the neo-retro tats, which is your forte. Be warned, though—the client sent a photo of what he wants covered up, which I’ve just sent to you via text. I’m not sure, but I think it’s on his ass.”

“Great.”

“I’m also thinking of sending it to Payne, because I feel that if I had to look at the likeness of Fred Rogers smiling from someone’s milk-pale ass cheek, Payne should be made to see it too.”

Max merely shrugged. “I’ve seen weirder. What else?”

“Female client wants a Betty Boop design on her shoulder, and she’s bringing in her own artwork. She could be persnickety, so I scheduled her after your meal break just in case you needed some time to collect your composure from the Rogers ass cheek cover-up. Then to close, you have a mother-daughter duo who want matching infinity tattoos before the daughter heads off to university abroad. Oxford, no less.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“And you have someone waiting for you,” she added, glancing around the room. “Though I think she wandered off…”

“Who?”

“She said her name was Pari… Wait, there she is,” Scout said, nodding in the direction of the art gallery, but Max was already on his way, leaving the reception desk behind while keeping his attention locked on the slim, midnight-violet haired woman.

About damn time she showed up.

From the moment she’d appeared at the diner, the waitress known to him only as Pari had been on his radar. Not surprising, since she had everything going on when it came to his personal tastes. Unconventional short hair colored a deep purplish black. Flawless skin as pale as the moon. Light gray eyes looking out at the world from under the longest lashes he’d ever seen. A C-shaped scar at the edge of her left eye socket that looked fairly fresh and hinted at a story, despite the makeup she used to play it down. A mouth that was a delicate, doll-like work of art, the plumpness of her lips giving it a semi-pursed look even when relaxed, like she was waiting for a kiss.

Or, maybe wanting to wrap around something far more interesting.

Yeah.

That made-for-sin mouth was what had gotten his attention.

But it was the wariness he’d glimpsed in those eyes that had kept it.

When it came right down to it, he was used to people giving him a wide berth. There was all the PC bullshit about not judging a book by its cover, but when it came to real-world practicality, people avoided him because he advertised what he was—an antisocial hard-ass. He enjoyed making people so uneasy they left him the hell alone. For as long as he could remember he’d acted out whenever people were around him, because he didn’t want to be around them.

For the most part, anyway.

But there were a few he didn’t mind having around.

With her wary eyes and air of palpable mistrust, Pari was one of those people.

And hell, why wouldn’t he want her around? She was a lost little kitten alone in the big, bad world. If she wasn’t careful, some big hungry predator was going to swoop down and swallow her whole.

Someone like him.

“Well, well, well.” He didn’t miss how Pari started at the sound of his voice, or how she darted a quick glance past him, as if she thought he’d brought a band of bloodthirsty marauders to back him up. “So this is what the kitten looks like when the sun is shining.”

“Kitten? I’m allergic.” He watched those wary eyes lock onto him as he closed in on her. “You make it sound like you expected me to look different.”

“When it comes to you, I expect a lot of things.” He took his time drinking her in, from the top of her black-violet hair to her furry snow boots, and everywhere in between. “What I didn’t expect is how pretty those long legs of yours would look in jeans. I still prefer seeing them in a skirt, of course, but I won’t mind if you wear something that covers them up every once in a while. It is winter, after all.”

“Gee, thanks, pal. That’s real big of you.”

Her salty tone was something else he hadn’t expected, and that hint of fighting spirit startled him enough to make him chuckle. “So. The kitten has claws.”

“The kitten again.” Then she shook her head in obvious dismissal before opening the denim bag she had slung over her shoulder. “Despite the fact that you had ulterior motives last night in hiring that cab, it was still one of the nicest commutes I’ve had since I hit town, so I wanted to thank you for it.”

“Hit town? You’re not a native of Chicago, then? We have that in common. I’m not from here, either.”

“Yes, I know. You’re from Moscow.”

Good. She’d been paying attention. “Where are you from?”

“I’m…not from Moscow.”

He laughed. “Damn, you’re cute.”

“The taxi was thirteen dollars, plus I’ve added three dollars for the tip. If the cabbie took more than that, you can take it up with him.” She pulled out a little envelope, the girlie kind that went along with fussy stationary sets, and held it out to him. When he didn’t move, just continued to look at her—watching her until she blushed had become one of his favorite hobbies—she made a frustrated noise. “Hello, anyone home? Earth to Max.”

“I’m right here.”

“Prove it. Take the money.”

He inched closer, crowding into her space. “Make me.”

He was close enough to hear her jagged intake of breath, and see the goose bumps that broke out on her skin. She stepped back, only to have him close that distance again, and he would have done it again if she hadn’t shoved the hand holding the envelope into his chest. It didn’t hurt, despite the genuine force she’d put behind it, and whether or not he was a dick to do it, he couldn’t help but grin at her latent ferocity.

Kitten claws, indeed.

“Since I learned English, I don’t believe I’ve ever used the word adorable before,” he confided, and his grin widened when her furious gaze snapped back up to his. “In fact, I probably would have gone my entire life without using that word. But then I met you, so here we are. I’ve found the living reason for that word’s existence. You. Are. Adorable.”

“I’m about to adorably kick your butt if you don’t take the stinkin’ money,” she snarled, keeping her hand pressed against his chest to hold the envelope in place. Every ounce of heat his body produced seemed to go haywire beneath her touch, to the point where it was a wonder the envelope she held there didn’t burst into flames. “Look closely, because I’ve got my serious face on, pal. Take it now, or I’m stuffing it down your shirt.”

His breath caught. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Promise?”

A hiss escaped her. “What do you mean, promise?”

“Do you promise to stuff that money down my shirt? Because that sounds hot.”

“What?”

“Wait, wait. I’ve got an idea that’ll make it even hotter. Tell me to take something off while you do it, or maybe tell me to spank you. Say something dirty while you’re doing it.”

“Ugh.” Clearly at the end of her patience, she brought her free hand up to snag her fingers around the collar of his long-sleeved House Of Payne T-shirt and shoved the envelope down inside of it, just like she’d promised.

A smart man could only admire a woman who kept her word.

Without warning he caught her by the wrists, his fingers curling around her like living shackles. She was small and fragile beneath his much harder hands, and he had to consciously will his grip to take care of those delicate bones. The fragile feel of her was almost intimidating, but he was more than up to the challenge of making sure he didn’t break her.

“Tiny little kitten,” he murmured, fascinated. “You have such a big fierce.”

“You must be hearing-impaired. For the last time, I’m not a kitten.” The words were pushed out between the barrier of her teeth, and he could hear the shallowness of her breathing. “Let go, or I start screaming.”

“Yeah? What kind?”

That made her blink. “What kind?”

“There are many kinds of screams, Pari. The terrified and panicked kind. The sexing-it-up kind. The shrieking-with-laughter kind. You see? There are many to choose from. Which one do I make you feel?”

“The I’m-going-to-knee-your-junk kind, if you don’t let me go in the next three seconds. Is that specific enough for you?”

“It is.” How remarkable she was, to be so quiet and wary on the surface, but such a pocket-sized tiger the moment she was backed into a corner. If she had cowered or panicked, he would have let her go immediately, complete with an apology.

He also would have lost interest then and there.

But he didn’t let her go, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to lose interest.

He did, however, back up a pace. He wasn’t a complete idiot. “Why would you knee someone who’s trying to be nice to you? Is this an American custom I don’t know about?”

“You’ve been here long enough to know it isn’t, and you’re still holding onto me, so you leave me no choice. One.”

“Uh-oh, the dreaded countdown to the assault on my junk is on. I should probably let you go.”

“Darn right you should let me go. Two.”

“Darn right,” he repeated, amused. “I should also just accept the money with grace, take my cue from you that you’re not interested, and let it go. To do anything else is just too dangerous.”

“Now you’re getting it. Two and a half.”

“Problem is, I like to live dangerously.” Smiling, he once again leaned in, bringing his face so close to hers he easily saw how her pale eyes dilated. “Three.”

“This wasn’t how I imagined this going at all,” she said no louder than a whisper, and her tone was distracted while her gaze slid over his face. It was stunning, how his skin tingled wherever her eyes touched. “I was just supposed to pay you back and be on my way. No muss, no fuss.”

“There’s no need to pay me back.”

“I owe you for the—”

“You owe me nothing. I chose to get you a taxi all on my own. I wanted to make sure I took care of you.”

“See, that right there? That’s nuts. You don’t even know me.”

“I want to get to know you. I want you to want to get to know me. This is how we begin.”

“Begin,” she repeated, and her tone was so ominous she sounded like she was talking about the date of her execution. “We’re not beginning anything. I’m not interested in getting to know anyone. I don’t have room in my life for anyone.”

“Does that mean you don’t have anyone in your life? A boyfriend? A husband?” Not that it would have mattered. Not when it was obvious she was doing her damnedest to be on her own now.

She shook her head. “There’s no one. Just the way I like it.”

“There is someone, though.” He gave her wrists a friendly squeeze before relaxing his hold on her. “There’s me.”

She blinked, though she didn’t otherwise move, not even to pull away from hands that no longer held her captive. “I’m curious. Have you ever heard of reality? It’s a place where you’re definitely not in my life.”

“Yeah, I’m not listening.” It was best to be honest right up front, since they were getting to know each other. “What’s your full name?”

“My name?” At last she stepped back, breaking contact, as if just now realizing she was free to do whatever she wanted. “You know my name.”

“I know the name I’ve read off your nametag. Pari. Pari what?”

“Simone. Though that’s not really any of your business.”

“You just made it my business by telling me who you are, Pari Simone. Is Pari short for anything?”

Her faint grimace gave him all the answer he needed. “It’s what I go by.”

“I go by Max, but my real name is Maximo. What’s your real name?”

“Who cares what my real name is?”

“I do. What is it?”

“Sheesh, you’re really something, you know that?”

“Of course I do, though I’m glad to hear you’re finally opening up your eyes to that as well. What’s your real name, Pari?”

She grimaced again. “All right, fine. It’s Paradise Simone. And if you ever call me that, I’ll poison your coffee the next time you show up at the Mad Cow.”

“Paradise Simone.” If there had ever been a name destined to become a tattoo, that was definitely it. “Who named you, Paradise Simone?”

“Amazing, the man isn’t afraid of poison,” she muttered, obviously to herself. “I can’t believe I told you.”

“But you did, so tell me more.”

“Like what, my social security number?”

“Who named you?”

“Who else? My parents named me, just like everyone else who happens to have parents. They were real Bohemian, throwback-hippie types, so that’s how I wound up with a crummy name like Paradise.”

“Were? They’re dead, or just gone from your life?’

“Dead.” The word came out like a missile covered in barbs, and it was clear those barbs took painful chunks out of her on the way out before she looked away. “Last April. Wrong-way drunk driver.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “And you miss them?”

That brought her attention slashing back to him with such power it was a wonder he wasn’t blasted out of his steel-tipped boots. “Of course I miss them. I loved them. They were my parents.”

“There is no of course about it when it comes to such things.”

“I’m talking about my parents, not things.”

“I stand by my statement. I never make assumptions of love and happiness when it comes to parents. For all I know, you danced a happy jig when they died.”

That made her look at him as if he’d grown another head. “Why the devil would you ever say such a thing? Who raised you?”

“A psychopath and a coward. Pieces of shit, the both of them.”

Her intake of breath was sharp, and her outraged expression melted into one of genuine shock. “Wow. That was harsh.”

“Probably,” he acknowledged with an indifferent nod. “But I prefer truth, always, no matter how harsh it is. And the truth is, unlike your parents, my parents were not the kind you miss.”

“No matter how bad they may have been, they still did a seriously amazing thing. They had you.”

“So what? I didn’t ask them to do that. And yeah, they gave me life, but what came after that wasn’t a life worth living.”

As she took time to absorb this, a reluctant flash of concern surfaced in her expression. “They couldn’t have been all bad. They did a bang-up job raising you.”

“I raised myself. You can sure as hell bet I danced a happy jig when my father kicked off and I was able to finally get away from that bastard. I wound up here, in one of the world’s greatest American cities, making a nice chunk of change with my art—the one thing he hated even more than me—and I’m living a life that would have made that sonofabitch shit bricks. Believe me, I’m still fucking dancing.”

She bit her lower lip in a way that never failed to make his cock ache. “I do believe you.”

Belatedly the distress building in her eyes sank in, and it softened the hard edges of the ancient hostility that lived inside him like a monster waiting to strike. “Wait, did you just compliment me?”

She blinked. “Uh…I don’t think so. Did I?”

“You think I did a good job of raising myself?”

“Well…you’re here, aren’t you? You’re not broken. You’ve been stronger than anything you’ve come up against so far, and that makes you kind of amazing.” Then she shook her head, as if baffled by her own words, before she backed away. “I’ve got to get across the street and ready for work.”

“You’re getting this money back when I come in later tonight,” he called after, his gaze sliding down to her backside as she turned away. Damn, he really couldn’t decide whether he liked seeing her gravity-defying ass more in jeans or in her blue waitress’s uniform. “I’ll give it back to you when you spend your break time with me.”

“It’s a good thing I want you to keep it, then,” came the cool response. He would have bought that coolness if she hadn’t blown it by glancing back at him for a long and lingering moment, before continuing on her way.

“Another TV news truck. No doubt about it, there’s something big going on at the House.” With several plates parked on her forearms, Edie deftly served a table full of CTA workers while simultaneously craning her neck to see out the front window. “Geez, look at that. Have they got a crowd, or what?”

“You’ve got a crowd in here, so watch what you’re doing,” Bosko yelled out through the pass-through, his rugged face an alarming red thanks to the heat coming up from the grill. “Lola, Pari, orders are up. And Pari, get Chester to help bus some tables, yeah? We’ve got customers standing around waiting for a place to park their asses.”

“It’s good to finally not be the low man on the totem pole,” Lola Brockett announced as she checked her order ticket. “Before you came along, I was the one who had to play gopher while still waiting tables. Now you have to be the gopher until someone new comes in and gets all the shit jobs. Good luck, newbie.”

“The only reason I’m asking Pari to get shit done now is because I’ll know she’ll get shit done, now.” Bosko slapped a basket of steaming-hot fries up on the pass-through. “You’ve got one gear only, Lola, and that gear’s just above neutral. But you’re what I’ve got on hand, so you’re gonna work that gear for all its worth. By the way, your counter order is up as well. Get a move-on.”

“I can’t believe what I have to put myself through just to hit Spring Break with my friends,” Lola muttered after she and Pari loaded themselves down with plates. “It sucks balls being in college. My stupid parents won’t pay for anything anymore.”

“Oh?” Pari did her best to cobble together an empathetic look as she glanced at the spray-tanned, peroxide-blonde woman beside her. The girl gave off such powerful spoiled-princess vibes that it was all she could do to remember to not call her by her sister’s name. “So, you’re saying you earned a college scholarship?”

“Are you seriously asking me that? Because, um, no.” Lola let loose a juicy snort and dropped the basket of fries in front of her customer at the counter without even looking at him before she moved on. “Why would you even ask that?”

“You said your parents weren’t paying for anything now that you were in college. So, since college isn’t free…”

“Oh, my God.” Lola eye-rolled so hard her false eyelashes—an accessory Pari had never seen her without—touched her perfectly stenciled eyebrows. “You’re so literal. Of course my parents are paying for college. They have to. They’re like, obligated by law or whatever. Nobody ever actually wins scholarships, unless they’re athletes. It’s like a government scam, everyone knows that.”

“I got one.” She shrugged, tamping down her irritation. But that was hard to do when Lola gave her the same look her sister had whenever Pari had talked about academics—like she was an idiot for focusing on education when there was so much fun to be had. “It wasn’t a scholarship to one of the big colleges like Berkeley, Duke or Notre Dame. But I did get a full ride to Lake Forest College, as well as a fellowship.”

“You did? So…wait. If you got a scholarship and went to college, why are you waitressing at a loser dive like Mad Cow?” Lola rolled her eyes again before aiming herself in the direction of a table waiting for their food. “I so knew it. College is not even worth my time. I’m just going to end up old and boring like you, Edie and Bosko. Fuck my life.”

A dagger pierced Pari’s heart as Lola’s thoughtless observation struck home. Out of the mouths of babes, she tried to laugh it off as she delivered her own burden to a table of older teens who were obviously there to watch the show across the street. Heaven knew that a year ago, as she’d celebrated getting her Doctor of Pharmacy degree, she’d never dreamed she’d wind up waiting tables. How could she? She’d already attained her dream job.

A dream job that had turned into a nightmare.

As the night rolled on, Pari almost became used to the stream of limos pulling up to the black marble-faced tattoo studio across the street. Its logo, a stylized pentagon made to resemble a house with the words House Of Payne framed within it, glowed on the side of the building. It was also etched into the sweeping picture windows, on the front doors and on the black awning leading to those doors.

It was little wonder House Of Payne was so famous. Whoever had created it definitely knew how to sell the brand.

While dirty mounds of snow still edged most of the walkways and gutters around the city, the sidewalks outside the tattoo studio were spotless, as if the crippling winter the city had suffered had somehow skipped over that impressive patch of real estate. A wide red carpet—again with the House Of Payne logo emblazoned on it—had been rolled out to greet the well-heeled guests. An impressive crowd of paparazzi had been cordoned off to one side, flanked by muscle-bound, dangerous-looking men.

Wow.

She seriously wasn’t in Waukegan anymore.

The teens she’d served had eagerly pointed out a couple MMA fighters that Pari had never heard of, as well as a wrestler-turned-actor that she did recognize and tried not to drool over. She’d also spied a rock star whom she knew from publicity photos was covered in tattoos, an international tennis star she’d once crushed on, a member of the British Royal family, and two Hollywood A-listers who were probably more famous worldwide than all the others combined.

With camera flashes going off so fast it was like a lightning storm across the street, it was obvious this was a newsworthy event. For a small-town girl like her, things like paparazzi, limos and red carpets were way above her pay grade. Whatever was going on at that swanky House Of Payne place didn’t exist in her world.

That was Max’s world.

The thought of Max almost made her glance toward the clock, and it was only through sheer strength of will that she kept her attention trained on the task of filling the water tanks of the industrial-sized coffeemaker. A few weeks had passed since she’d tried repaying the cab fare, and each night since, promptly at eight, he’d shown up for dinner. He’d sat in her section and flirted outrageously with her, saying such unbelievably personal things about her legs and booty—clearly he was a fan—that she should have slapped his face a dozen times over. Heaven knew that if it had been any other man saying such things to her, she would have. Any other man.

But not Max.

Somehow, Max could get away with it.

Why?

It was how he was, came the most reasonable response, and she found herself nodding in agreement. Having an R-rated mouth was simply how that man communicated with his fellow humans beings. In fact, she had the distinct impression he held back for her, keeping what she suspected were X-rated comments on a tight leash. It hadn’t escaped her that her G-rated vocabulary amused him, but he didn’t make fun of her. Her sister Vana had been mortified by it, before she eventually resorted to the tactic of packing as many swear words as possible into everything she said. Pari used to believe it was her sister’s way of loosening her up. But now she saw it for what it was—a clear sign that she held everything Pari did in contempt.

Considering that Vana had brought Harvey Nelson into her life, contempt was the least of what Vana had felt for her.

It didn’t matter, Pari told herself grimly, turning on the coffeemaker. Vana and Harvey might not be dead, but they were dead to her. Come to find out, prison was an excellent assistant when it came to severing unhealthy relationships.

“Busy night tonight, yeah?”

Pari whirled to find Max leaning against the counter, grinning his maniacal grin at her. Only now it didn’t seem so maniacal, just a wide grin that told her he was happy to see her. Her pulse tripped over itself at the sight of it, and she couldn’t help but put a hand to her heart even as she returned his smile in full. When his gaze dropped to her mouth and stayed there as if hypnotized, her whole body went into full-on tingle-mode right there in the middle of the packed diner.

Wow.

“It’s busy here in the Mad Cow because you’re busy across the street.” A small part of her sighed wistfully when he slid onto a stool at the counter, taking a seat in a part of the diner that wasn’t in her section. “I can’t imagine you’re getting a lot of actual tattooing done with all that madness going on.”

“No clients were put on anyone’s schedule today.” Max looked away from her mouth to throw a withering glance over his shoulder at House Of Payne, before bringing his attention back to her. “Unfortunately, this is only the beginning.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“This week marks the tenth anniversary of Payne’s career as a professional tattooist, where he started out in some shithole on the south side of town. But he stuck with it, and look where we are today.”

“Another person who stuck with their dream and made it a reality.” A hint of sadness knifed through her at the thought of her lost career, before she patched a bright smile over the hole it left in her heart. “He has every right to throw himself a party.”

“Payne’s not just throwing himself a party. There’s this blowout that’s going on tonight, and then there’s this big-ass cover reveal thing he’s got planned next week.”

“Cover reveal? What cover? What’s being revealed?”

“Some magazine made a shitload of special-edition covers of Payne and other tattooists to celebrate House Of Payne’s anniversary. As usual, Payne wants to make a big stink about it.”

“That sounds cool.” She studied him closely before she began to smile at the uncharacteristic way he refused to meet her eyes. Good grief. He looked almost embarrassed. “Max?”

“Hm?”

“Are you one of the tattooists that wound up on one of those covers? You are,” she breathed when he grimaced. “You are, aren’t you? That’s so great!”

“It’s no big thing, kitten, and neither is that circus going on right now across the street. In fact, it’s nothing but a pain in my ass as far as I’m concerned.”

“Of course you’d look at it that way,” she said, her voice softening in sympathy. “I think it’s awesome that your art has gotten the attention it deserves, but I am sorry all this uproar is cutting into your time to create.”

At last he looked back to her, and it amazed her that ice blue eyes could be so warm. “I like that you know this about me.”

“You’re an artist, first and foremost. I don’t know if you know this, but talking about your art is the one thing that lights a fire in you. It’s a beautiful thing to see.”

That fire began to burn as his mouth curved. “You see? That right there. That’s an intimate thing, you noticing that about me and understanding it. Sexy, even.”

“And I suppose that’s my cue to leave you alone with your thoughts.” No longer flummoxed by his teasing, Pari picked up a coffeepot and tried to ignore how she wanted to stay where she was, held by that powerful gaze that made her feel special. “Lola has the counter tonight, so she’ll be your server. Can I get you some coffee, or maybe some extra napkins to draw on before I go?’

Like a bulb blowing out, his smile vanished. “You serve me.”

“Sorry, Max, but I can’t.” She pulled some extra napkins out of her apron and laid them on the counter in front of him. Maybe he could get some creating done during his break. “My section’s full, and you’re sitting in Lola’s section.”

“Fuck sections. You serve me.”

“Since we work for tips, it’s against diner rules to poach customers.” She spied someone in her section wave a hand her way, and she nodded in quick acknowledgment. “I’ve got to go. It was good to see your face tonight,” she added without thinking, already on her way to her customer. “Considering what’s going on over there, I didn’t think you’d find the time to drop out of that glittery world to visit this not-so-glittery one.” With that, she waved a quick farewell and hustled over to her section.

Maybe her wording had been awkward, but as Pari hopped from table to table trying to make sure her section was a happy one, she decided she’d been on-point. That studio across the street was like another freaking planet—flashy and exclusive, and full of the kind of glamour she’d only seen on TV.

Obviously not a Waukegan girl’s kind of scene.

Across the street was where the beautiful people orbited, and an honest-to-goodness red carpet was rolled out on the regular. It was amazing, really, that Max chose to spend time in a greasy spoon like the Mad Cow when he could have been basking in the glow of all those stars.

Then again, it was becoming increasingly clear that Max Kulagin was pretty amazing, period.

“Pari, there’s an epic douche at the counter who won’t allow me to wait on him.” Lola came up behind her, apparently oblivious that Pari was taking the order of a cute little family of four, complete with two cherubic children under the age of five. “He gave me ten bucks to get you to wait on him instead. I’m like, totally fine with that. He called me Malibu Barbie.”

“Uh. Okay, Lola.” Pari nodded, struggling mightily to not laugh at the apt description. “Tell him I’ll be right with him, okay?”

“I’m not telling that asshole anything.” With that, Lola stomped off, leaving Pari—and her table—momentarily speechless.

“Asshole,” one of the cherubs piped up, sending both children into uproarious giggles while the parents glared.

Pari looked up at the ceiling and mentally kissed her tip goodbye.

“Thanks a lot, Max,” Pari hissed in Max’s ear before swinging around to the other side of the counter. She needed that physical barrier between them so she wouldn’t go for his throat, or so she told herself. But the truth was, she’d accidentally breathed in his leather and soap scent when she’d gotten close to him, and she didn’t trust herself to not stand there sniffing and licking him like a creeper. “My coworker is now officially ticked off at me because you called her a name.”

“It’s not my fault she looks fake like a fucking plastic doll. I just called it like I saw it.” He gave her such a long look it felt like her whole body had been touched by his gaze. “I like my women real.”

“I have purple hair.” Ugh. That hadn’t sounded nearly as stupid in her head as it did out loud.

He laughed, obviously feeling the same way. “You know what that purple hair tells me? You have a secret wild side that isn’t otherwise on display. I like that.”

Pari retrieved her order pad, not bothering to admit that when she’d decided to dye her chopped-off hair in the hope of making it look less awful, she’d mistakenly grabbed several boxes of a hair color called Midnight Amethyst. She’d just gone by the picture on the front, and in the store it had looked like ordinary black “Trust me, I’m indescribably boring. What do you feel like having tonight?”

“I’m in the mood for something spicy. How about a kiss?”

Her gaze snapped up while her heart executed a triple flip. “A kiss?”

He leaned his forearms on the counter, his eyes never leaving hers. “For starters. To whet my appetite.”

“Are you saying you didn’t come here already hungry?” Holy moly, she was flirting. Why the dickens was she flirting?

“Oh, I’m hungry, kitten. Starving.” He leaned closer still, belatedly making her realize that even in a seated position at the counter, he was still tall enough to be at eye level with her. “But I don’t think the main course is on the menu. Yet. Is it, Pari?”

“I…don’t know what’s on the menu.” A hand fluttered to her chest while her brain spun its wheels and went nowhere. “Seriously, I’m suffering legitimate amnesia here. I can’t remember a single thing that’s on the menu when you’re looking at me. Stop looking at me so I can think.”

“There’s nothing else in this room that I want to look at.”

“Now that I can believe,” she tried to joke, though she heard the breathlessness of her tone. “Considering the glamorous world you live in, the décor inside the Mad Cow is probably a big come-down.”

One of those hooded brows quirked. “Glamorous? You know I’m a tattooist, yeah?”

“A tattooist over there.” She pointed the end of her pen to the never-ending pop and flash of the paparazzi. “That’s your world. But it’s nice that you come in every night and visit mine, humble as it is.”

“That is not my world.” There was a definite sizzle behind his words, and like that, the mood was broken. She took a half-step back and put the end of her pen in her mouth, surprised at the heat radiating from him. “That shit over there has nothing to do with me, so don’t even think about measuring me by that fucking circus.”

“Okay.” Pari glanced uncertainly at over at the bright lights, red carpet and spectacular people, and closed her lips over the end of the pen to suck on it for a moment. “If you say so.”

“Yeah, I say so. You get off work at midnight, yes?”

“Yes, but—”

“Good.” He reached over and gently took the pen from her mouth. “Wait for me after work. Until then, don’t put that pen in your mouth again.”

She blinked. “Why?”

“Because I want to be the only man who fantasizes that the pen you’re toying with is actually me.” He smiled as she stared at him, speechless. “Now, can I get a bacon cheeseburger with extra bacon and a side of fries?”

Working on autopilot she took his order, but all the while her naughty, increasingly obsessed mind zeroed in on the wet panties-inducing fantasy that had been plaguing her for a while now.

The fantasy of taking Max’s iron-hard cock, inch by glorious inch, into her waiting, eager mouth.

As the imprint of Max’s hand at her back burned through the material of her uniform to scorch her skin, Pari came to the conclusion that she’d lost her mind. That was the only explanation of why she’d allowed herself to be talked into heading across the street after work.

In her work clothes, no less.

Ugh.

The first and only time she’d been inside House Of Payne had been to pay Max back, and the business’s elegant atmosphere had shocked her. When she thought of tattoo parlors, high-class sophistication wasn’t the first thing that came to mind. Then again, House Of Payne wasn’t a parlor. It was a posh art gallery that could have held its own against any high-end gallery in the world.

The only difference seemed to be that the canvases for the House’s art were alive.

At least, that was what she assumed was the only difference. She’d never actually visited a tattoo studio in her life. Nevertheless, she was pretty darn sure that walking into one dressed in a waitress uniform while a star-studded party was going on was a social faux pas of the highest order.

“I’ll bet you a cookie someone gives me their drink order.” Reluctantly she handed her coat over to an attendant before letting Max steer her toward the heart of the party. “Just watch, it’s going to happen.”

“If it does, I’ll make sure to ask that person if they want that drink to be rammed up their ass.”

She began to laugh nervously, only to do a double-take when she caught his expression. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

“Never doubt it.”

“Right.” A pair of black-clad waiters cruised by, one bearing graceful flutes of champagne, the other a tray of fussy and exotic looking canapés. Some sort of Euro-rave music thumped in the background while famous people in trendy clubwear milled all around her.

Man, she really should have fought Max harder when he’d dragged her over to the snooty side of the street.

“This is nuts,” she muttered, breathing in the battling scents of perfume and cologne, a dizzying scent she never had to contend with at the Mad Cow. “My being here could only be more inappropriate if I were wearing absolutely nothing.”

“There’s a thought.” Max slowed down as he walked her through what seemed to be the highest concentration of glamorous people in the entire building. The better for everyone to get a look at her, she thought on an inward groan. “Are you a closet nudist, kitten? That’s cool. I think you could talk me into being one, if you try hard enough.”

“I am most definitely not a closet nudist, and stop calling me kitten.” A blistering flush flashed over her from her knees up at the thought of Max nude. Pressing a hand to her suddenly hot face, she tried not to wonder about how much of his skin was covered in ink, or if the impressive sweep of his shoulders hinted at a lean and alluring build created for the female hand to explore… “Cheese and crackers, why is it so hot in here?”

“Cheese and crackers? You hungry?”

“Not for food.” The words were out before she could stop them, and she bit her lip hard to keep any more confessions from popping out. To distract herself, she looked around the room and hoped none of the dazzling humans around her noticed what she was wearing. And really, why would they? What was she, really?

A science nerd.

A former pharmacist.

A waitress.

A nobody.

She needed to get out of there.

“This was a bad idea.” She balked while Max steered her around a towering stacked column of flatscreens that displayed various tattoo designs. Her distracted gaze landed on her tennis crush, only to find he was staring at her as if he wondered who had dared to let the hired help in to the party. “Seriously, I cannot do this. I have to go.”

“Why? You’ve already missed your train, so that’s no excuse.” As if he expected her to bolt for the door, the hand at her back shifted to clamp around her waist. “You don’t have to worry about that. I told you I’ll driving you home after this.”

“After what? Parading me around all the Beautiful People in my stupid uniform?”

“What the fuck, Pari. No one gives a shit what you’re wearing, except to think how hot you look in it.”

A flash of delight zipped through her, but she made herself stay on-point. “Spoken like a man. Other people notice things like what a person is wearing, believe me.”

“What I notice is that these people aren’t beautiful. Not on the outside, and sure as hell not on the inside. They don’t count, so fuck them.”

“I can’t just say eff them that easily.”

“From what I can tell, you can’t say fuck them at all.” He shot her an amused glance as he guided her to a glass brick staircase. “You sound like the human version of autocorrect.”

“Go ahead and laugh. Everyone else does.”

“I’m not laughing. Well, yes I am, but not because I’m a dick. I’m laughing because it’s cute. Like the rest of you.”

“From hot to cute,” she muttered, mainly to cover the ridiculous rush of pleasure flowing through her like sunshine. Who knew she was so susceptible to flattery? “Sounds like a demotion.”

“I speak the truth, always.” Ignoring her reluctance, he dragged her all the way up the stairs, then guided her to the mezzanine’s chrome-topped glass railing to look down at the throng of people below. “Look at them, these people you think are more beautiful than you. What makes them so? Nothing. They’re just people. Some of them might think they’re more than that, but that level of batshit-crazy is on them, not you.”

She smiled. She had to admit, the man had a way with words. “That may be, but I can promise you that I’ve never had paparazzi clamoring to take my picture.”

“Their loss. But gaining perspective on this crowd isn’t why I brought you up here.” He reached down and caught her hand in his, and her breath caught at the weirdly intimate sensation of his warm palm sliding against hers. “You called my world glamorous. I’m going to show you what it really is.” With that, he guided her away from the railing toward a wide, well-lit hallway outlined with cubicles of frosted glass emblazoned with the House Of Payne logo. A red neon sign with the words “From Pain, Beauty is Born” hung over the mouth of the hallway, suspended from the ceiling by cables. A red light glowed on the outside of one of the frosted glass booths. There were other lights beside the doors of other booths, but none of these were lit until Max opened one of the doors, reached in and flicked a switch inside.

“This,” he said, nodding his head toward the booth, “is what my world really is.”

Pari’s brows inched up even as she stepped forward. “Why do I get the feeling this is your version of showing me your etchings?”

“You’ve got a suspicious mind. Like your ass and your legs and your hidden wild side, I like that about you.”

“I have no wild side. I’ve lived with me my whole life, so I know what I’m talking about.” With the sounds of the party fading, she moved into the frosted glass cubicle. The clean, minimalist lines of the House’s modern décor vanished the moment she crossed the threshold, and all at once she was surrounded by all things Max. On the polished marble floor was a black rug with a Salvador Dali-esque melting clock face. On the wall that faced the door was a framed, neon-colored depiction of the St. Basil’s Cathedral in Red Square, with a base that melted into a puddle of what appeared to be blood. On the right wall above the workstation was a series of framed photos of a sword being forged. The workstation itself looked like a converted mechanic’s rolling tool box. Jumbled on its stainless steel surface among the rainbow of inks, sterile wipes and Latex gloves was a small battalion of fuzzy-headed trolls and Harley Davidson memorabilia. The Harley Davidson motif was also echoed in the rolling chair next to the padded tattooing table, with both the seat and back embossed with the iconic logo, and the armrests clearly made out of repurposed handlebars.

“You really are a Harley fan, aren’t you? That chair is killer.” Delighted, she moved to touch one of the armrests, then glanced over at Max. He was watching her with that hooded, unwavering gaze that used to alarm her, but now had the ability to elevate her temperature to a head-spinning degree.

“I’ve got a couple bikes at home, a twin-cam Softail and an Iron 883 Sportster. Are you a fan?”

“I’ve never even been on a motorcycle before, much less a Harley. I know doctors generally refer to motorcyclists as organ donors, but… I don’t know. I always thought it looked like crazy amounts of fun.”

“Doctors say this?” For a moment he looked intrigued before he lifted a shoulder. “I suppose they’re right, but who the fuck cares? Something out there in the world is bound to kill us all one day. Since it’s our destiny to die from the moment we’re born, might as well go out while having a kickass good time, yeah?”

“Yeah.” The answer came without hesitation, surprising her. Thanks to her parents constantly pointing to her as the daughter that never gave them trouble, she’d always played that role. If she wanted to cross the street, she went to the nearest crosswalk. She never swam after eating. And running with scissors? Forget about it.

She’d had to be a good example for her sister.

Not that it had mattered. She’d been the best daughter and sister that she could manage, and still everything had careened out of control.

What kind of moral of the story could she make out of that?

“So?” He closed the distance between them, his hands held idly behind his back. “What do you think about my world? Not so glamorous now, is it?”

“I don’t know about that. It’s so different from anything in my world, so it seems kind of…I don’t know. Exotic.”

“Is that bad or good?”

“Good. Very good.” She looked around the small booth once more before her attention snagged on the framed art. She leaned closer when she spotted slight smudges along the edges, and all at once a light went on. “You left something like this behind the other night—an elderly woman looking into a mirror at a young reflection that was melting. Did you do this?”

“Yeah.” He tilted his head, eyes alert and focused solely on her. “So you’ve been paying attention to my art?”

“You could say that.” She couldn’t make herself admit that thanks to his napkin art she’d picked up an old hobby—scrapbooking—and had preserved every single one of his masterpieces in individual plastic sheet protectors. He’d probably think she was weird. “This rendition of St. Basil’s is incredible.”

He lifted a shoulder and came to a halt beside her. “There was a time when I saw that building every day on my way to school. It was so colorful that I imagined life had to be tons better within those walls, so I dreamed of living there instead of in my much more mundane gray world. I was too young to know it was built on blood.”

“I guess that explains the dripping bottom of it. Like the rug’s design, it looks like it’s melting.”

“The melting metaphor in my artwork is something that comes up a lot.”

“Melting metaphor?”

He nodded, staring at the picture. “Heat, or pressure which creates heat, changes everything. When enough of that shit’s applied, heat can turn one thing into something else entirely.” He tipped his head to the series of photos above the workstation. “A lump of metal can be turned into a weapon. A normal human can be turned into an unstoppable force. There’s an old Chinese proverb that says the toughest steel is forged in the hottest fires. I believe that to be true of people most of all.”

“Sounds painful.”

“Metaphorically speaking.” His wild grin flashed. “And yeah, that burning might be agony at the time, but it doesn’t last. It doesn’t kill you.”

Without conscious thought, she ran a finger over the C-shaped scar next to her eye. “That’s not always the case. Sometimes it does kill.”

“I’m not dead. Neither are you. Whatever fires burned through our lives didn’t destroy us. Marked us, maybe. But they didn’t kill us.” With a gentleness that surprised her, he brushed her hand aside to trace the scar himself, and the darkness that filled his eyes almost made her believe he didn’t like thinking about how that scar may have come to be there. “What’s left in the wake of all that burning is a completely different being, but it’s up to that person’s perspective—their strength of will—to decide whether they’ve been destroyed, or transformed into something new. Something better. Something indestructible.”

She thought of her sister, her parents, and a wave of sorrow hit so hard it was a wonder she didn’t get knocked off her feet. “Who has the strength to think that, when they’re being burned alive?”

“Everyone. You just have to find it. Until then, you rely on others to get you through.”

“What if you don’t have others? What if…” Another wave hit, so hard it made her throat tighten with an anguish so deep it had no end. “What if you’re all alone?”

“I’m not knocking being alone. Alone can be good, for a time.” Slowly he turned her to face him, and all at once it hit her that up until now they’d almost always had something between them, like a table or the counter, even the envelope of money she’d shoved at him. With him looming over her by almost half a foot, Max was suddenly the only thing in the room she could see. “When you’re alone, no one can get close enough to hurt you. But you know that already. Don’t you, Pari?”

She locked her jaw to stifle the sudden, ridiculous need to cry, and only nodded.

She hadn’t cried. From the time of her parents’ deaths to this moment and all the horror in between, she hadn’t cried.

She wasn’t about to start now.

“Yeah.” He nodded as well, unsurprised. “Figured as much. Those of us who are the walking wounded in life, we can always spot our own kind. That’s why I know that when life kicks you in the teeth, being alone isn’t just preferred—it’s fucking awesome. But I also know something you don’t.”

“What’s that?”

“Eventually time moves on, and you find a way to get back on your feet. That’s when alone turns to lonely, and being alone isn’t so awesome anymore. It’s shit. And that’s why you came here with me tonight,” he added, surprising her. “Whether you know it or not, you’re back on your feet. You’re ready to live in the here and now, instead of holding on to whatever happened in the past. When it comes to choosing between being alone and being with me, something in you decided you were strong enough to choose me.”

She wanted to tell him she wasn’t as sure as he was, but she never got the chance. He cupped her chin, just like his drawing depicted, before he dropped his head, giving her less than a second to brace for his kiss.

It wouldn’t have mattered if she’d had a year to prepare.

Nothing could have prepared her for Max’s kiss.

Her mouth came alive at the touch of his, melting to fit against him even as she went up on her toes to match the hunger she could feel prowling inside him. She wanted to imprint the feel of him in every nerve, even when the kiss was nothing more than a memory. The feel of him—the rasp of his beard and the satin-covered steel of his lips—was something she’d wanted to remember forever.

Clearly he felt something similar, as he roped a strong arm around the small of her back and crushed her to him. The heated feel of his hard body was mind-blowing enough, but her heart nearly came to a stop when the hand at her chin moved to sift through her hair and cradle the back of her head in his palm, and pressed her deeper into the kiss.

Wowie.

When this man held a woman, he didn’t mess around. He got her exactly where he wanted her, and he. Held. On.

Then there was the kiss itself.

There was no gentle wooing or tentative exploration to see what she was comfortable with. Oh, no. He went at her fast and hard with a confidence she couldn’t help but admire. He had every expectation that she was the one who had to get used to his style of kissing, and that style was devouring. Urgent. Like he believed kissing her was what he’d been born to do, and now that he’d found her he was determined to maximize his potential.

Bang-zoom, to the moon.

Now she knew why she instinctively thought that whenever she saw him.

Her hands slid around his waist, and the solidity of his body thrilled her. Such a hot body he had, taut with muscles that rippled beneath her hands, an action that made her desperate to see what his reaction would be when she put her mouth on him so she could learn him that way. Learn him, taste him, suck on his dick until his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he begged for mercy…

If she didn’t rip him out of his clothes in the next minute, it would be a freaking miracle.

The deep, sex-it-up thrust of his tongue into her mouth was conquering. Bold. He knew what he wanted and he went after it without hesitation. It made her respond in kind, with a wantonness she didn’t even know she was capable of. His heart thundered against her breasts pressed flat against his chest, while slick heat surged between her legs.

God, that was sexy.

No.

He was sexy.

When Max at last broke the kiss by lifting his head, Pari pulled in an indiscreet lungful of air. It was either that or faint dead at his feet.

“Wow.” Since playing it cool was a ship that had already sailed, she might as well go all in. “You’re really, really good at kissing.”

“You had a whole lot of something to do with that.” His voice didn’t sound quite right—rougher, with a deeper edge to that yummy accent of his. The change in it brought her gaze to his, and if he hadn’t still been holding her, she would have stepped back in alarm. His face was like a stone mask, and his eyes burned with a light that seemed almost violent. “I knew you would be worth the wait. What I didn’t know was that I wouldn’t be able to wait for the next taste of you. Now that I’ve had a taste of this crumb, I want the whole cake.”

She swallowed while her heart put itself through a heavy-duty stress test. “You mean…uh…”

“I want to fuck you, Pari.” He said it not as a vulgarity, but as a simple, honest fact. This honesty, she’d already learned, was who he was. And considering the lies that had been woven through her old life, she preferred his honesty to anything else. “I want you naked, and I want you under me. I want you panting and helpless and moaning my name while I’m moving inside you. I want your perfect ass up, your legs spread wide and I want to hear you begging me to go faster and harder in filling you so that you come as hard you’ve ever come in your life. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything like I want all of that now, and it’s killing me because it’s not going to happen. You’re not ready yet.”

He painted such a vivid mental picture—so vivid it made her tingle and ache in her girly parts in a sweetly agonizing way—that it took her a second to realize he’d stopped talking. “How do you know I’m not ready?”

“I know, because you let me stop kissing you.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“If you were ready to fuck and be thoroughly fucked, we wouldn’t be standing here talking about it. We wouldn’t be talking at all. I’d be ripping your clothes off, just as I would already be naked by your hands. Which will still happen,” he predicted with a smile that was pure sex. “When you’re so desperate to ride my cock, I guarantee you’ll be tearing my clothes off. That’s when we’ll both know you’re ready.”

The moment Max and Pari exited his booth, he knew something was wrong. With his hand at Pari’s back to steer her toward the open mezzanine area, he spotted Sebastian Payne and Scout leading an unfamiliar couple toward the tall double doors of Payne’s private office. Payne, the owner and creative dynamo behind House of Payne, was relentless when it came to promoting his tattoo empire, so it wasn’t like him to throw a star-studded party and not be in the thick of it.

When the unfamiliar woman dropped her purse and suddenly collapsed, he knew his suspicion was dead on target.

“Shit. Call 911,” Payne barked to Scout, who already had her phone out. Payne and the man knelt on either side of the woman decked out in a mini dress that seemed to be nothing but a rainbow of sequins, while Scout paced restlessly beside the prone woman, phone pressed to her ear.

“Oh no,” Pari whispered, distress puckering her brow.

“It’s all right.” Automatically he put an arm around her shoulders, not even thinking about the instinct to protect her from ugliness. It was just there, so he rolled with it. “It’s probably just someone who’s had too much to drink.”

“I don’t think that’s it.” Without warning she zoomed ahead, aiming straight for Payne and the others.

“Pari—”

She ignored him, leaving him no choice but to follow in her wake, baffled by what she thought she could do to help the situation. The mystery was cleared up, however, the moment she got close enough to touch the shoulder of the man kneeling beside the woman.

“I know CPR, if that’s what’s needed,” she offered as Max came up beside her. “Does your friend have a medical condition of any kind?”

“I don’t know, we just met.” Sounding harassed, the man dragged a hand through his hair. “I needed a plus-one, and since I don’t know anyone in this town, my agent arranged for some arm candy. Can’t have my fans thinking I’m some loser who can’t get a date. I mean, I was on last summer’s list of Tennis World’s most eligible bachelors, so if this gets out—”

Pari held up a hand. “What’s her name?”

The loser who had to buy a date blinked. “What?”

“Her name. What is it?”

“Uh, Amy. I think.”

“Okay.” Pari moved closer to the woman’s head and knelt down. “Hey, Amy. Open your eyes for me, all right?”

The woman’s eyes fluttered, but they seemed weighed down by false eyelashes and heavy smoky black makeup.

“I c-c-can’t…b-breathe.” A platform stiletto came off as she twisted, and she looked as though she was being tortured. “H-help…”

“Help is on the way,” Scout announced, phone plastered to her ear. “Estimated ETA for the ambulance is five minutes.”

“Ambulance?” The loser’s voice cut off the woman’s faint gurgle that had Pari leaning forward to listen to her chest while simultaneously grabbing up the woman’s wrist. “Why the hell did you call for an ambulance? She’s fine, all right? Look, I can’t have this blow up, do you understand? The press gets wind of this, they’ll find out she’s nothing but an escort. That happens, and I can kiss all my endorsements goodbye.”

“She’s not fine, you fucking dumbass,” Payne growled, managing to beat Max to the punch. “Where the fuck is your head, worrying about shit like that?”

“I gotta look out for number-one, all right? I’ve worked too hard to get where I am to have some nobody bring me down.”

“You know what you need to be taught?” Max moved without conscious thought, yanking the loser to his feet to pin his worthless ass to the wall. “You need to be taught the very valuable lesson that you’re not the center of the motherfucking universe.”

“Get off me—”

“We’ll start your lesson with me ramming my foot up your ass. Sound good?”

“Her pulse is low and she’s wheezing.” Pari’s voice sounded stressed, and Max’s attention swung back to her as she lifted her head from the woman’s chest. “And her eyes and lips… I don’t think she can get her eyes open. Hey,” she looked to the loser over her shoulder, “did she eat anything during the party?”

Max shoved at the loser when he didn’t immediately sound off. “Answer her, dickhead.”

The loser began shoving back. “No, and get off me, asshole. Don’t you know who I am?”

“Of course I know who you are.” Max grinned happily and slammed him back against the wall. “You’re my bitch.”

“Not helping right now,” came Pari’s aggravated voice. “What foods were served at the party?”

“The usual,” Scout replied, phone still to her ear. “Finger foods and champagne, sodas for the nonalcoholic crowd.”

Pari frowned. “I saw some canapés, but I can’t remember…what specifically was served?”

“Uh—”

“Anything with peanuts or walnuts? What about honey, or strawberries or shellfish or egg—”

“Shellfish,” Scout confirmed. “And strawberry cheesecake bites, and macarons. Those all have eggs in them, right?”

“I’m telling you, she didn’t eat a damn thing. I tried to get her to eat, but she wouldn’t.” The loser again shoved at Max’s arm, so he finally let the idiot go. Pari was right—as satisfying as it was to pin him to a wall, it wasn’t helping the situation. “She had a couple glasses of champagne, but that was it.”

“I’ve never heard of an allergy to champagne, but this is looking like an allergic reaction of some kind.” Then she leaned forward once more, brushing the woman’s hair back. “Oh, frick. I’m seeing hives.”

“She didn’t fucking eat… oh. Oh, my God.” The loser backed a step away and clutched at his throat. “What if she’s sick? Do you think she’s sick? Like, contagious-sick? I kissed her because there were cameras. I could’ve caught something from her.”

“More likely, she caught something from you.” Again Pari shot him a look over her shoulder. “Did you eat anything?”

“Do I have hives? How do I look?”

“Please stop being a drama queen and answer the question. What did you eat?”

The loser’s panic dissolved under a wave of lip-curling contempt. “I had some jumbo shrimp, and why the fuck is someone like you talking to me that way? No offense, but aren’t you just some waitress in cheap shoes? I gotta say, Payne, the hired help you have here really need to know their pl—”

Max took an almost obscene amount of pleasure in smashing his fist into the loser’s face, sending him flying back to sprawl on the mezzanine floor.

Payne shot to his feet even as he heard Pari gasp. “Max!”

“Don’t worry, kitten, he’s fine.” He gave a shot at giving her a reassuring smile before his gaze slashed to Payne. “And I wouldn’t worry about this spoiled piece of shit pressing charges or mouthing off about the House, either. If he did, the whole world would find out that he’s such a shit stain that not even being rich and famous could swing him a date to a legendary House of Payne party.”

“I’m not worried about that asswipe,” came the surprising reply. “I was just preparing to jump in to keep you from committing justifiable homicide. If anyone ever talked down to my lady like that, you can bet you’d have to do the same for me.”

Max grinned. “Sometimes I almost like you, Payne.”

“Shut the fuck up, man. You’re making me misty-eyed.”

“Male bonding is so weird,” Pari muttered absently, bringing their attention back to her as she reached for the woman’s fallen purse. “Amy, are you allergic to shellfish? Just nod or shake your head if you know the answer, okay? Are you allergic to shellfish?”

The woman’s face was visibly swollen now, shocking Max even as she nodded weakly and flailed a hand ineffectually toward her purse.

“I understand, honey. Tell the emergency dispatcher this is probably an anaphylactic response to shellfish,” she went on, looking up at Scout, who relayed the information while Pari tore open the woman’s purse and pawed through the contents. “Ah, here it is. Tell the dispatcher she has an EpiPen and it’s being administered. Mark the time, since I don’t have a watch.” As he looked on, Pari took quick stock of a cylindrical object, opened it and shook out a long white tube with an orange tip on one end and a blue tip on the other. She yanked the blue part off, then made a quick stabbing motion into the woman’s outer thigh. “Just hold still now, honey. Ten. Nine, eight, seven…”

“Cool,” Max muttered, leaning in. “How do you know how to do this, Pari?”

She turned her head to shoot him a wide-eyed look of exasperation. “Five. Four—”

“Shut up, Max, can’t you see she’s busy?” Scout looked like she wanted to kick him before she turned and listened to the voice on the phone. “Great, thank you. Payne, the ambulance should be here in about a minute.”

“I’ll let security know.” He tugged his own phone out of his pocket.

“There we go.” Pari pulled the object away, plugged it back into its casing before sitting back on her heels and gently brushing a hand over the woman’s hair. “That should get your heart rate back up and your airway open in a minute or so. It’s probably going to take a bit longer for the swelling in your face to go down, but that’s no big deal. Some ice packs will get those eyes open before you know it, so don’t worry about a thing, okay? You’re going to be fine. I’ll just put this empty pen back in your bag, Ms…” Dropping the cylinder in the woman’s purse, she came up with a wallet with the ID showing through a clear plastic window. “Brenda Hanssen.” She snapped around to glare at the loser, who was carefully getting to his feet. “I thought you said her name was Amy.”

“Uh…”

“You didn’t even bother to remember her name, did you? You’re such a… a… oh, what’s the word I’m looking for?”

“Fuckwad?” Max suggested.

“Peckerhead?” Scout said.

“Assclown?” Payne added.

“A disappointment,” Pari declared in such a damning tone that Max had to admit it sounded way better than any cuss word they’d come up with. “You don’t deserve to be in Brenda’s presence.”

In the following silence, the woman blindly reached out, found Pari’s hand, and squeezed.

“Not bad for a waitress.” Max was smiling as he pulled out of House of Payne’s rear parking lot and into the flow of traffic. “You always that cool under fire?”

Pari stifled a yawn and tried to keep her eyes open. It was almost two o’clock in the morning, and after putting in a full shift plus finishing the evening off with a near-death experience, her butt was dragging. “I have no idea. And speaking of cool, do you mind if I turn up the heat a bit? My jacket isn’t exactly the thickest in the world.”

“Go ahead.” She could feel his glance slide over her as she figured out the controls for her side of the truck. “Is that the only coat you have?”

“Spring is three weeks away, so it’s enough to get me through. I’ve noticed that the cold doesn’t seem to bother you,” she added, slouching deeper into the seat. Built-in seat-warmers had to have been an invention sent directly from heaven, she thought, sighing happily. “Is that something that’s a prerequisite for someone born in Moscow, or are you just really that tough?”

“Combination of the two. Though I’ll admit, this has been a bitch of a winter. I’m ready to see the end of it.” Again she felt his attention slide over to her as he came to a stop at a red light. “Where’d you learn to use that medicine you put in that woman’s leg?”

“It was a shot of epinephrine, and I’ve seen those things used before.” When in doubt, stick with the truth. “That jerk should pay for all of Brenda’s medical expenses, don’t you think? The reason she wasn’t eating was because she obviously has severe food allergies, and that guy nearly gave her the kiss of death. A kiss, I might add, that he gave her so he could look like some macho gift to women in front of the cameras, and not because he was in a romantic, kissing-his-woman kind of mood. Creep.”

“Wow, a jerk and a creep. You’re really pissed.”

“You bet your boots I am. That man’s lips should be charged with assault with a deadly weapon. Oh, and his attitude? It should have a cinderblock tied around it and thrown into Lake Michigan. I can’t believe I once had a crush on that…that jerk.”

“You already said jerk, so that one doesn’t count.” The light turned green as the snow began to fall yet again. “You had a crush on that guy once?”

“Well, me and every other girl who watched him on the tennis court,” she explained with a sheepish grin. “When I was on my high school tennis team back in Waukegan, I thought he was the dreamiest male specimen to ever walk the earth. Thank goodness I grew out of that phase, because you were right about the so-called beautiful people, Max. That guy was beyond ugly.”

“Damn straight I was right. Waukegan, huh?”

Oops. “Yup.”

“And a tennis player.” The wolfish smile that appeared was a white slash in his beard. “I’m picturing you in one of those cute little tennis skirts that flounces with every step, and shows your ass when you bend over to tie your shoe. Did you ever wear one of those?”

Hm, the seat-warmer was sure getting toasty. “Every girl on the team wore those skirts, but it wasn’t trashy or anything. It was just our school’s tennis team uniform.”

“Fuck me, a teeny little tennis skirt and a school uniform. Make my night and tell me you still have it.”

“Sorry.”

“Oh no, that’s tragic. And I was just starting to get a really good hard-on, too.”

She laughed, even as her cheeks burned and her naughty brain once again conjured up all sorts of things her mouth could do with that part of his anatomy. “You really do say whatever pops into your head, don’t you?”

“What, do you want me to lie?”

“Absolutely not,” she answered without giving it a thought. “I like you the way you are.”

“Good.” As he approached her apartment building, he slowed and swung around so that she could step out directly onto the curb. Then, as she unbuckled her seatbelt he put the car in park, undid his own belt, and snaked out a hand to catch her by the nape. “Show me how much you like me the way I am.”

“If that means you want a goodnight kiss, then challenge accepted.” A thrill of breathless anticipation surged as she leaned over the storage seat divider and surrendered her mouth to him. Everything about him was such a surprise; he looked both extreme and dangerous—and parts of him no doubt were. But the humor that threaded through much of what he did was so charming, it was becoming almost impossible to maintain a safe emotional distance from him.

Was that what she wanted?

With his mouth on hers, she didn’t know anymore.

She pressed her hand against his bearded cheek as he took the kiss delightfully deep, thrusting his tongue in such a sexual rhythm it was like he was making love to her mouth. Her blood heated and the place between her legs tingled until she was achy with need. As she chased that need to get him just as hot as he got her, that secret ache only grew worse. Her internal unraveling intensified, until everything that held her together threatened to come apart.

No.

Not everything.

Just her most fiercely guarded defenses.

After the year she’d been through, being defenseless was downright terrifying.

Pari tilted her head down just enough to break contact, but she didn’t retreat any farther. How could she? It took more strength than she had to totally retreat from the man who was slowly becoming her primary source of happiness.

That reliance scared the daylights out of her.

“Tell me again that I’m done with being alone,” she said through a disturbed breath. “I need to hear it.”

“No, you don’t.” He moved to press his mouth against her brow, and the gesture was so uncharacteristically tender it made her throat tighten. “The last thing you need is to hear it from someone else. I’m not going to talk you into stepping out of your solitary world, kitten. You need to want it, to feel it, and nothing I can say is going to make that happen right now. But it will happen. You’re almost there.”

The fear of allowing herself to rely on someone—someone who could pull the rug out from under her when she least expected it—chilled her all the way to her soul. “You sound pretty sure of yourself.”

“I’m sure you’re going to wake up and realize that the true male specimen you should’ve been dreaming about was actually covered in ink and ready to rock your fucking world. Now get inside,” he added while she caught her breath, “before I change my mind and try convincing you in ways you’re not yet ready for.”

“Let me guess,” she drawled, settling back into her seat and reaching for the door handle. “You still wearing your clothes proves that I’m not ready because I haven’t ripped them off of you in a frenzy of desire?”

“It’s too damn cold for that,” he grimaced, looking out at the falling snow. “And too cold for you to keep wearing that jacket. You need a real coat.”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” Though she couldn’t help but take a fortifying breath before she opened the door, and slid out into the frigid, snow-shrouded night.

“It’s always amazed me that it’s colder when there isn’t a cloud in the sky.” Looking like she’d just come from an expedition in the South Pole, Edie stomped into the small employees’ area with only her eyes and a wisp of dark blonde hair showing from under a knit cap and scarf. “But there’s good news to report. We finally hit the double digits in temp according to the bank sign down the street. It’s a whopping eleven degrees out.”

“Break out the bikinis,” Pari drawled, reluctantly tugging off her snow boots and chunky knitted leg warmers—worn out of necessity and not as a fashion statement—to slide her icy feet into her work shoes. “We should throw a party when the temp finally hits freezing.”

“Ugh, don’t even mention parties to me.” Lola strolled into the room straight from her shift, already untying her apron. She looked more orange than usual, so Pari figured the younger woman was getting ready for the spring break beaches. “Last night’s shift was insane. I can’t believe Bosko had me work my normal shift today on top of working last night. That’s so not fair.”

“Prepare for another bout of so-not-fairness,” Pari warned, grabbing up her own apron. “It’s House Of Payne’s tenth anniversary, and last night was the official party for that. But there’s going to be another huge deal going on next week. Last night’s madness was just the beginning.”

“That means more tips for yours truly, so I’m not complaining.” As Edie began to peel off the winter layers, she shot Pari a curious look. “How do you know what’s going on over at that Payne place?”

“Max told me.”

“Oooh.” Edie shot her a wicked grin. “Max, of the Viking hair and wild tattoos? That Max?”

“He’s Russian, not a Viking, and yes, that Max.” For no reason that she could fathom, Pari felt her face heat up. That had been happening a lot recently. Just the thought of Max was enough to trigger a weird fever that hit not just her face, but other, more distracting parts of her anatomy as well. A reaction, moreover, that kept her distracted morning, noon and night. “He told me there’s going to be some kind of magazine cover reveal that showcases their most famous tattooists. Lots of paparazzi, lots of celebrities.” She could only hope that this time around, there wouldn’t be anyone with deadly food allergies attending the party.

“Oh my God, really?” Suddenly alive with more energy than she’d ever displayed before, Lola bounded forward. “When is this happening?”

Pari’s brows inched up. “He didn’t say specifically what day. Just that it was going to happen next week.”

“What kind of celebrities? Did you see the guest list?”

“What? No, of course not. Max just mentioned it in passing, that’s all. We’re probably going to be working with all hands on deck when that happens, so be prepared to be called in.”

“Fuck working, now that I know there’s going to be another party. This girl is going to crash that bash, shake my fine ass all over the place and land myself a bad-boy, inked-out, mega-rich star. Fuck me, I can’t wait!”

“Good luck with that.” Pari checked her hair in the mirror attached to her locker door, finger-brushing her short bangs off her brow. She’d have to color it again soon; the faintest glimmer of auburn was starting to show at the roots. “I’ve seen the security they have over there. You’d probably have a better chance at breaking into the White House.”

“Then you can get me in. Please, Pari, I’ve dreamed about this my whole life.”

“Girl, you just learned about it five seconds ago.” Edie didn’t bother holding back a scoff as she hung her coat up in her locker. “Cool your damn jets and come back to reality—which, by the way, is right here in this diner.”

“Omigod, Edie, Mad Cow reality isn’t my reality. I want a super-rich hot guy, okay? In fact, I deserve a super-rich hot guy. A guy who’s so into me that he’ll buy me anything I want, and he won’t be happy unless he’s going out of his way to make me happy. And what makes me happy is the idea of landing me a super-rich hot guy.”

“Me, me, me, me.” Edie snorted and pulled out her apron. “You sound like you’re warming up for the opera.”

Lola’s dreamy expression cleared with a hardcore stink-eye. “Whatever, Edie. You’re just bitter because all your good years are behind you.”

Edie whirled around. “Okay, you little brat, you just went over the line—”

“Why the hell are all my waitresses back here when I got hungry customers out there?” Spatula in one hand and a large, fancy-looking shopping bag in the other, Bosko appeared in the doorway, his whiskery, rugged face doing its best impression of a thundercloud. “Janie’s out there all by herself and everyone’s yelling at her because of it. Lola, you’re supposed to be working until four. Tell me, is it four o’clock yet?”

The younger woman didn’t bother to look at the clock that showed she had ten minutes to go. “Bosko, I need time off at some point next week. Family emergency.”

Pari had to hand it to Bosko. Somehow he managed to keep his head from exploding. “Let me get this straight. You’re going to have a family emergency at some unnamed point next week? How does that work?”

“She wants to go to a party across the street that she’s not invited to, and has no hope of getting through the door,” Edie offered, her voice still sizzling with anger. “I say let her go. It’ll be fun to watch her get thrown out on her ass.”

“If you want the time off, you can always quit,” Bosko said just below a roar. “Until then, get back out there and finish your shift before I decide to give you all the time off you want by firing your lazy ass.”

“That could have gone better.” Pari grimaced while Lola took off in a huff. Then she looked over to Bosko with what she hoped was a calming smile. “I’ll be out front in just a minute to help out, Bos. Just let me punch in and I’ll be good to go.”

“Wait, Pari, I came back here for another reason,” Bosko said before she could rush off to clock in. “Some delivery guy from Neiman Marcus dropped off a package for you.”

“What?” That stopped her dead in her tracks. “You… I’m sorry. Did you say Neiman Marcus?”

“Yeah. But for all I know it’s actually from Costco and it was just put it in a Neiman’s bag to make it look swanky,” he said, hefting the large shopping bag. Sure enough, the unmistakable name of the high-end store was scrawled across the sides. “Between you and me, I think this might be the real deal. Even if whatever’s inside wasn’t all wrapped up in a fancy-schmancy box with satin ribbon and shit, the delivery dude was wearing a tie. Can you believe it? A fuckin’ tie.”

“Yeah. Unbelievable.” Pari stared at the bag, baffled. “Bosko, I think there’s been a mistake. I didn’t order anything from that store. I’ve never even been to that store in my life, so obviously I didn’t order it. We have to send it back.”

“Now wait just a minute, babe.” Forgetting her snit, Edie stepped in, eyes bright with curiosity as she reached for the bag Bosko held. “Let’s not be too hasty here. Bosko, did the delivery guy say whether or not it was paid for?”

“Edie—”

“Yup, all paid for. I made sure of that before I signed for it.”

Holy moly. “Seriously, this has to be a mistake.”

“Mistake or not, I don’t know of anyone else who has the name Paradise Simone, who works at the Mad Cow in The Loop.” Edie was reading off the invoice sheet she’d plucked out of the bag before she waved it at Pari. “And it really is from Neiman’s, babe. Here’s the gift receipt, in case you need to return it.”

“A gift receipt?” Stunned, Pari stared at the paper Edie held in her hand. “That means… someone sent me a gift.”

“Wow, Sherlock, there’s no pulling the wool over your eyes.” Bosko nudged Edie and pointed at Pari. “She puts Benedict Cumberbatch to shame, doesn’t she?”

“Who?”

“You’re dead to me if you don’t know who Benedict Cumberbatch is,” Bosko said seriously. “The modern version of Sherlock Holmes? Marvel’s Dr. Strange? The English actor who can’t say the word penguins, which I personally find hilarious? Any of this ringing a bell?”

Edie stared at him. “Why can’t he say the word penguins?”

“Guys, come on,” Pari said, moving toward them while her heart hammered so hard she heard it. “What exactly does the gift receipt say?”

“It doesn’t say anything other than the gift recipient’s info. All it shows is one of those barcode things.” Edie held out the bag. “Guess you’re going to have to open it to find out what it is, and who sent it to you.”

With a mingled sense of anticipation and dread—she had a good idea it was from Max, and heaven only knew what kind of off-the-wall, kinky thing he’d felt compelled to send to her—Pari took the bag from Edie. Half a second later she had the large beribboned box on a bench, its distinctive, world-famous logo embossed on its face. Her heart decided to move into her throat as she undid the ribbon, all the while wishing for privacy as she peeked inside.

“Well?” Both Edie and Bosko edged closer, peering over her shoulder while her wish for privacy died a quiet death. “What is it?”

Praying it wasn’t skimpy lingerie or something equally mortifying, she gave up trying to be discreet, and flipped the lid off.

“Ooh.” Edie nudged away layers of tissue paper and pulled out a quilted, knee-length down coat in a shiny silver material. When Pari caught sight of a familiar designer’s mark on the coat’s belt buckle, she nearly fainted. If she worked three months without eating or paying rent, she might have been able to afford it. “Get a load of this, Pari. No more courting frostbite while waiting for your train, yeah? And look, it matches your eyes, sorta.”

“Like you said, let’s not get excited about this.” Trying to appear like she wasn’t both squealing like a teenage fangirl on the inside and mortified that Max had felt compelled to take care of her as if he thought she wasn’t capable, Pari noted a folded piece of paper still inside the box. Quickly she plucked it up before Edie could do the honors.

Paradise,

Shared body heat is the most efficient way to keep warm.

Until I can get you skin to skin, this will have to do.

Max

Invisible fire raced through her so fiercely it was a miracle she didn’t set off the sprinklers.

Staying warm would never be a problem with a naked Max nearby, she thought distractedly, barely managing to stifle the need to fan herself with the card. The friction-born heat their bodies would create would rival the sun as she opened her legs to invite him in, and he filled her with the rough, delicious thrust of his cock…

“Well?”

“Who’s it from?”

“Oh. Um.” Wondering if she looked like she was about to go into nuclear meltdown, Pari tried for a casual air. “It’s from Max.”

“The scary-looking guy from across the street?” Bosko frowned while Edie squealed and did a little hop before handing the coat over to Pari. “That’s so lame. What the hell’s he doing, buying you a coat? Hasn’t he ever heard of flowers? Guys get girls flowers when they’re trying to be romantic, not coats.”

“Flowers won’t keep her warm when he can’t be there to do the job himself,” Edie said, so on-point with Max’s note that Pari hastily stuffed it in her pocket out of fear her friend had suddenly developed superpowers and had read it with her x-ray vision. “A coat’s way more romantic than flowers, Bosko.”

“I can’t keep it.” Decision made, Pari aimed herself toward the door and didn’t look back. “I’ve got seven minutes until my shift begins, so I’m using them. Be right back.”

Edie tried calling her back, but Pari was on a mission. She zoomed past the counter and was out the door in moments, only to come to a screeching halt on the sidewalk when she saw Max at the curb just outside of House Of Payne’s security-guarded doors. The surprise that flashed through her was echoed in his expression a moment before he stepped up to the curb. Then, grinning his wild man’s grin, he cupped his hands around his mouth.

“Do you like it?”

Her jaw dropped as his shout rippled out over what had to have been half the city. Seriously, the man was in dire need of learning what the words subtle and discreet meant. “Yes, I love it, but—”

“What’d you say?”

Oh, for crying out loud. “I love the coat,” she shouted, mortified, while taxis, cars and a city bus rumbled by. “But I can’t accept it, Max. Thank you so much for the thought, but I just can’t accept it.”

When his smile vanished, she knew he’d gotten the message. “Exchange it if it doesn’t fit, woman.”

“That’s not the reason.” An older couple strolled by, giving her funny looks while traffic continued to stream along the busy road. Ugh. “Wait right there, okay? Let me cross the—”

“What’s the reason? If you like it, keep it. I don’t see a problem.”

“Maybe they don’t have phones where they come from,” the older lady said quite clearly to her companion before they headed into the diner. “Who knows with kids these days?”

Gah. “Max, it’s just…it’s too much. Thank you, truly. But I can’t accept such an expensive gift.”

Max’s expression turned downright ominous. “You’re saying you’re throwing the coat back in my face because of your pride?”

“What?” She took a half-step back, not sure whether she was more horrified or indignant. “No, I’m not throwing it anywhere. I’m touched and grateful—”

“Bullshit.”

It was amazing, really, how some words reverberated more than others along the concrete canyon surrounding them. “It’s not B.S., Max. No one, outside my parents, has ever given me anything so thoughtful, not even my sister.”

“Yet you throw away a gift that means so much to you? Like I said, bullshit.”

A bike messenger stared at Max as he rode by, wobbled into the gutter and nearly fell off his bike into traffic.

Yikes.

If they didn’t wrap this up quickly, someone was going to get hurt.

“Look, I just wanted to thank you for your thoughtfulness, but I’m going to send it back.” She found herself hugging the coat to her chest like an adored teddy bear as she stepped back toward the Mad Cow. “If you want, we can talk about this later.”

“No. Stay right there. We talk now.”

Her blood turned to ice as he stepped straight off the curb and into the flow of traffic.

“Max, stop!”

Tires squealed, a car horn blared and a stream of furious swearing colored the air as a taxi just managed to swerve around him. She nearly screamed while the fear of Max getting killed struck her so hard it bled all the color from the world. He didn’t help matters any as he simply stood there at the edge, where road met gutter, while traffic swerved carefully around him. But all it would take is just one careless or texting person…

“Max, get out of the road!”

“Keep the coat or I keep walking.” When she simply stared at him—seriously, no one could blame her for staring at a freaking crazy man—he began to move forward.

“Yes! I’m keeping the coat! I’ll do whatever you want, just… God, please get out of the stupid road!”

“Cool.” All smiles, he stepped back up onto the sidewalk, turned to give her a cheerful wave, and disappeared through the doors of House Of Payne.

Pari considered herself to be an even-keeled person. Calm. Imperturbable. Volatility had been her sister’s bailiwick, not hers. Super-volcanic emotions usually led to super-volcanic upheaval. She didn’t do upheaval.

Or super-volcanic.

Or volatility.

But with the advent of Max in her life, the rigid calm of her carefully structured detachment was now blown to smithereens. Aside from being furious with him and his earlier actions, the fact that moods swings had become a daily part of her life made her anything but happy.

So yes, she was ticked off at Max.

But she was also royally ticked off at herself.

Somewhere along the way, she’d allowed herself to become an emotional mess who didn’t know what she was going to feel from one moment to the next.

Bosko seemed to understand she was in a dangerous mood. Since the diner had been pretty much dead—just an old man sitting in Edie’s section as he nursed a cup of coffee and a piece of pie—her boss made the wise decision to let Pari leave for her break before Max could show up. Ultimately Bosko had even allowed her to go home early, since he claimed that having a surly waitress on the clock was worse than having a diner full of crying babies.

Not willing to hang around and debate the matter, she scooted out of the Mad Cow like her hair was on fire. With great deliberation she left Max’s silver coat in her locker, and bundled up in her usual wool jacket, hat and scarf.

And if it made her childish to find grim satisfaction in ignoring that coat, then fine. She was childish.

It was a character flaw she could live with.

The sidewalks were nice and dry, so she burned off some inner fire by speed-walking to the train platform, her teeth grinding hard as she stomped up the stairs. Despite the bitter cold of being elevated above street level where the wind was vicious, she barely felt it. The churning anger corked up inside kept her almost feverishly warm as she paced along the nearly empty platform, too upset to sit.

It would have served Max right if he’d gotten hit, she thought for the countless time. It would have served him right if he’d freaking died.

I’m going to cut her to fucking pieces, bitch…

The fog of her growling breath streamed out of her as the memory whispered from the darkest corner of her mind. Lips pulled back in a silent snarl, she hunched her shoulders against the wind, her mittened hands shoved deep into her pockets. For months she’d been stuck inside an emotional cocoon. It was something she’d not only been aware of, but was downright grateful for. It had been bad enough—the worst—when her parents had been killed so unexpectedly. But that loss had been heartlessly compounded by Vana and her man, Harvey.

She shivered, but it had nothing to do with the cold.

Harvey Nelson.

What a ridiculous name.

With a name like that, he should have been a used car salesman with thinning hair and an obsequious smile.

A guy named Harvey Nelson didn’t sound anything at all like a dangerous drug dealer.

A hot rush of fury that had nothing to do with Max twisted in her chest, burning all the way to the bone in a way that she’d never experienced before. Then again, why would she have experienced something like that? She hadn’t allowed herself to feel anything since that terrible day she’d left the courthouse—and her old life—behind. The betrayal, grief and sorrow had always been there, of course, but she’d pulled the sanity-saving numbness of her cocoon around her to shut everything out.

Even the pain.

No.

Especially the pain.

This burgeoning, white-hot anger, though.

That was new.

Or, maybe it wasn’t.

Maybe this unprecedented surge of rage was simply long overdue.

Movement at the far end of the platform brought her head swiveling around to find Max approaching her, silver coat in hand and an ominously stony expression carved into his face.

The fire inside flared all the hotter, igniting her every nerve until she wanted to scream. It was a wonder the platform didn’t burst into flames around her.

If he thought that he was even remotely capable of out-madding her, he was walking face-first into one unpleasant surprise.

“You impossible woman.” Clearly oblivious to the danger, he prowled toward her, his long legs eating up the ground. “You said you’d take the coat. Yet here you are, shivering in the cold because you’re too proud to accept a gift you claimed you were keeping. A lie, because I found it in your locker.”

“I said I’d keep the coat. I didn’t say I’d wear it. So what idiotic move are you going to pull now to manipulate me into wearing it?”

His already-furious eyes narrowed as he came to an abrupt stop. “What?”

“You heard me. What asinine act are you going to pull to get your way this time around? Threaten to jump in front of a train, maybe? Well, go right ahead,” she invited with an impatient flick of her hand to the empty tracks. “Be my guest. But don’t expect me to wait around and be a willing, horrified audience to your bit of theater this time around. I’ll simply walk home, and I swear to you, I won’t give a…a-a damn if you do get hit.”

He took a half-step back, his ominous scowl vanishing with the shocked arch of his brows. “I don’t believe it. An actual swear word. You’re really angry, aren’t you?”

Oh, for the love of… “From now on, you don’t get to talk to me. Or look at me. Or even remember that I exist. You’ve forfeited that right. Do you understand me?”

“No, I don’t. Why are you so pissed off?”

“I do not have manipulative, fear-mongering people in my life, ever. So from now on, I need you to stay away from me. Just stay away.”

“Okay, I get it.” He nodded after a long moment, watching her carefully. “You’re upset.”

“Upset?” The single word she hissed out was almost lost beneath the sound of the approaching train. “I’m not upset. What I am is done. I’m done with anyone who thinks that just because I might appear to be nice, they automatically believe they can punch whatever buttons they think I have in order to get me to dance to their tune. I’ve got a news flash for you, Max. I might be nice, but I’m no pushover. You don’t get to punch my buttons. And buddy, I don’t dance for anyone.”

The scowl came back with a vengeance. “I’m not trying to get you to dance, I’m trying to make you accept a fucking gift that’ll keep you warm. No woman in the history of the world has ever been so goddamn impossible when it comes to giving her a gift.”

“Did you hear what you just said? You were trying to make me do something. When I didn’t respond how you wanted me to, you chose to put your own life at risk to make me respond how you wanted me to respond. Get the problem? No,” she added, holding up a hand when he opened his mouth to argue the point. “If you don’t understand how it’s wrong to strong-arm someone into doing something they don’t want to do—even if you think it’s for their own good—then we’re both wasting our time.”

He rolled his eyes upward as the train at last came to a stop. “Fuck. Pari—”

“Do whatever you want with that coat,” she added flatly, stalking onto the train the moment the doors slid open with a loud metallic squeak. Holding onto a handrail, she turned to glare pure murder at him. “Put it back in my locker, return it, keep if for someone else—whatever. As of now, the way I’m feeling, I would rather freeze to death than ever wear it. Goodbye, Max.”

“Not goodbye,” he snapped before the doors could close. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“No, you won’t. Sunday’s my day off.” When the doors hissed shut, cutting off the conversation, she continued to glare at him through the glass and waved an unmistakable, and final, farewell.

By the time Pari awoke, showered and finished giving her hair a color treatment, her anger had faded enough for the guilt to creep in. That was one of the drawbacks to losing her temper—the guilt. No matter how much the person she got angry with might’ve deserved to have the boom lowered on them, she inevitably felt bad about doing it.

This time her guilt was made worse because in his ham-handed way, Max had been trying to give her something nice. And she’d thrown it back in his face, first because of pride, and then because he’d hit a sore spot he didn’t know was there.

Sore spot or not, she stood by her aversion to being manipulated.

But she could have been nicer about letting him know that.

Not for the first time she fretted about not having a phone, wishing again and again that she could send him a text to see if her fury had burned the bridge they had been building between them. But even if she could, she had no clue what she could have said to soothe the hurt she must have inflicted, while at the same time standing by what she’d said. No one liked being manipulated, but she downright abhorred it.

She just didn’t relish explaining why she had such a strong aversion to it.

The sudden knock on her door stopped her edgy pacing as if she’d been hit by a freeze-ray. Peering through the peephole, she frowned in confusion at the woman she vaguely recognized as her nearest neighbor, whose apartment door was directly across from hers in the recessed alcove they shared. Curious, Pari pulled the door open and tried not to wince as the icy air instantly bit at her cheeks.

“Hi.” She smiled cautiously, suddenly sure her mother was screaming at her from the afterlife for not knowing her neighbor’s name. “May I help you?”

“Hey there.” Wrapped up in a bulky suede coat, mittens and matching scarf, the black-haired woman had the faintest Chinese accent that went with her flawless skin and liquid black eyes. “Sorry to bother you, but there’s kind of a thing going on out here that I think you need to see.”

“A thing?” Good grief, maybe there was a fire or something going on in the apartments above her…

“Yeah, there’s this man out here that my kids have been helping for the past hour, and… seriously, you’ve got to see what’s going on. Your name’s Pari, right? I mean, that’s the name I saw written in the snow, and since I know the names of the other tenants in this building, I’m thinking you’re the one who’s got to be called Pari.”

Pari could feel her jaw wanting to unhinge. “I’m afraid I’m not following. Did you say you saw my name written in the snow?”

“Yeah.” The woman backed up and cocked her head. “C’mon, you need to see this. I’m Meilin, by the way. Hi.”

“Pari. Nice to meet you.” Baffled, Pari grabbed up her keys and wool jacket, and shrugged into it as she followed her neighbor out of the alcove. At first she didn’t see anything amiss—two winter-dead trees on either side of the concrete walkway, a forgotten tricycle off to one side dusted with a new layer of snow, a mish-mash of footprints coming and going in a variety of sizes.

Nothing extraordinary, as far as she could see.

She turned to Meilin, confused. “I don’t—”

“The parking lot across the street. Big, empty canvas on a Sunday, especially if it snowed overnight. Which it did, because this winter has sucked from start to finish. Check it out.”

Walking through the rusty wrought iron gate, Pari pulled on the mittens she found stuffed into the pockets of her jacket and looked across the street. That was where Max and two kids—a girl in a bright pink hooded coat and a smaller boy in a puffy camo ski jacket—made snowballs that they then colored with various types of tinted liquid that came from clear plastic squeeze bottles normally used for condiments.

“What in the world…?” Pari mumbled, staring.

Meilin grabbed her by the hand. “It’s better if you look at it from above. Here, climb up onto his truck.” To her surprise, her neighbor pulled her straight to Max’s truck. “This is one nice ride he’s got, don’t you think? And he knows how to make the big gestures when he wants his lady’s attention. Not telling you what to do or anything, but I’m just saying you might want to think about that.”

“Um.” Honestly there was nothing else she could say.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if relationships came with manuals? Though even if they did, us girls would be the only ones who’d read them. Men and manuals go together like toothpaste and orange juice. Those are my babies,” Meilin went on, clambering up into the back while Pari hung back. “Xia and Bruno are my trouble-seeking missiles. I swear they must’ve sensed your man doing his thing over here almost from the moment he showed up. At first I couldn’t understand why they were being so quiet outside. When I went searching for them, I found them over here ‘helping’ him make pictures in the snow. He’s good, isn’t he?”

She thought of all the napkin art she’d preserved, and realized that the snow-dusted, squared-off parking lot was just one huge napkin for Max to doodle on. “I think he’s brilliant. He works as a tattooist at House Of Payne.”

“Whoa, really? I dream of getting ink done there since it’s supposed to be the best in the world, but the prices are way out of my reach. No wonder your man has such nice wheels.”

“Honestly, he’s not my man.”

Meilin nodded in the direction of Max. “Have you told him that? Because I don’t think he knows.”

Coming to a halt at the back of Max’s Escalade, Pari looked in the direction Meilin indicated. Max was in the middle of the empty parking lot and hadn’t yet looked up from squeezing a plastic condiment bottle of purple liquid onto a large design sprawled out over the snow. When he finished what he was doing, he looked up and locked gazes with her as if he’d known she was there all along.

Like a switch being thrown, her throat snapped shut.

“Good timing.” His voice was strong and clear in the mid-morning air, and with great care he turned and followed his own footprints around the edge of the parking lot to what seemed to be a staging area, where the children were still tinting snowballs in a rainbow of colors. “We’re almost finished. Ready with the snowballs, guys?”

“Yes!” Xia and Bruno hopped in their excitement before Bruno went up to Max with a blue snowball in one mittened hand and a red one in the other. “See, Mr. Max? They’re Spider-Man colors.”

“Very cool, Bruno. We’ll get ready to use those in just a minute, right after Miss Pari sees the picture we made for her, okay? Pari, climb up onto the back of the truck,” he added, his intense eyes cutting to her so quickly she nearly jumped. “You’ve got to see this before the war breaks out.”

“War?” She found herself climbing up into the truck’s payload without thinking about it, so inexplicably happy to see Max after she’d blown her top that it was the only thing that filled her mind. “That sounds ominous.”

“Oh, yeah. It’ll be known as the great watercolor war of Chinatown. But before the battlefield gets messed up, you might want to take a look at it.” He swept a gloved hand toward the parking lot. “So? What do you think?”

“Wow.”

It was all she could manage while every defense she’d ever had crumbled.

A surprisingly detailed picture of a woman was drawn in the snow over an area of about twenty square feet. Though the outline was done in something dark and the skin tint was peachy in color, the image itself was obviously her, complete with short purple hair, small red mouth, one dimple and the C-shaped scar by her left eye. She wore the blue waitress uniform, with one hand over a biceps in a Rosie the Riveter stance, while the other hand was curled into a fist. The words I Can Do It were written in red block letters around the fist, seemingly emanating out from the clenched fingers. Her name, Pari, was on the nametag he’d replicated in the snow.

Every visual detail about her was there. He’d missed nothing, not even how her lashes curled up in the far corners of her eyes. He’d paid that much attention to her as an artist, but she was also getting another message that he was trying to convey by putting her image in the snow for everyone to see.

He’d been paying very close attention to her as a man.

If his detailed portrait of her was any indication, the man who’d made it believed she was beautiful.

“Do you like it?” Xia chirped from her place next to a pile of rainbow-colored snowballs.

“Do you like it?” Bruno echoed, then continued to echo the question while hopping up and down. That set off his sister, who began doing the same while giggling.

“Well?” Dropping the squeeze bottle near a backpack of what she assumed were his supplies, Max came over and leaned his arms on the side of the truck. “Do you like it?”

“Oh, Max.” With her chest constricting with the beauty of what he’d given her, she sank onto her knees so that they were eye-to-eye. “You need to prepare yourself, because I’m about to gush.”

His brows shot up. “Gush?”

“I love this. I’ve never seen anything like it. I don’t even have the words to describe how much I love this, and I think I’m about to cry, I’m so moved.” She put a hand to her thudding chest. “See? I gushed. Hope I didn’t embarrass you.”

“I’m good.” A corner of his mouth curled while he looked into her eyes, as if he were trying to see into her soul. “In fact I’m more than good. That was the reaction I was hoping for.”

Her breath wanted badly to do an emotional hitch. “Why ‘I Can Do It’?”

“Because your will is the strongest I’ve come up against. That’s part of what makes you so beautiful.”

Screw an emotional hitch. Her breath was threatening to leave her lungs on a permanent basis. “I don’t know if I could ever be as beautiful as this snow painting. It’s amazing.” You’re amazing. The words trembled on her lips, but she wasn’t sure he wanted to hear that from her so soon after she’d blown her top. Then the moment was gone, as he was already looking over his shoulder at the painting.

“Too bad I can’t preserve it for you, but that’s what happens when you paint in snow.”

“I’ve never even thought about painting in the snow. But I guess since you’re an artist, you can’t resist all that blank whiteness, can you?”

“Before my mother took off and left me to the tender mercies of my asshole father, she’d take me snow-painting for the first snow of the season.” With a careless shrug, his attention swung back to her. “As soon as we were done with our creations we’d have fun destroying them, because we couldn’t bear to see what we’d made slowly melt away, beyond our control.”

“Really?” She remembered the painting of St. Basil’s, and a light went on. “I’ll bet that’s where your melting metaphor truly began. Right from the beginning it was your way of trying to control the outcome of what was inevitable.”

“Maybe.” His gaze never left hers as he reached for her gloved hand. His smile blazed when her fingers curled around his, and the sight of it did crazy things to her pulse. “We’re about to have a Technicolor snowball fight. Wanna join in? Everything’s water-based, so it can all be washed out. Just think, you can pummel me to your heart’s content.”

“Sounds like a blast, except for one thing.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to pummel you.” She placed her other hand on the forearm he had propped on the edge of the truck’s payload. “While I hate being manipulated—and I have good reasons for that—I wanted you to know that I am grateful for the gift you gave me. And I’m sor—”

“Don’t, kitten.” His fingers squeezed hers, and his free hand came up to curl around her nape. He pulled her in for a soft lip touch, then a quick, deeper kiss that made her heat up so instantly it was a wonder the snow didn’t melt all around her. “Don’t apologize for being right.”

Relief flooded through her. “So you understand what I was trying to say?”

“Yeah.” He grimaced. “I know I can be like a bull in a china shop. I like having my way and I’ve got no qualms about doing whatever the fuck it takes to get it. I’m a lot like my old man in that one way, though it pisses me off to admit it.”

She tried not to wince at the self-directed anger roughening the edges of his voice. “I think you’re selling yourself way short by comparing yourself to that guy. I get the vibe from you that he was all sorts of terrible, and you’re anything but.”

“Terrible is a good word for him. He was an FSB man through and through. Former KGB,” he added when she looked at him blankly. “They invented ways to be cruel and manipulative, and my father was their best product. Maybe someday I’ll tell you about him, and you can tell me about those reasons why you hate being manipulated.”

Her and her stupid mouth. “News flash, pal. Nobody likes being manipulated.”

“Yeah, but you said you have reasons.” He pulled her in close for one last kiss, his mouth warm against hers before he lifted his head just far enough to look into her eyes. “There are times when I can be a real asshole when I want my way. I’m proud you’ve got the backbone to bitch-slap me whenever it happens.” His smile turned wicked. “Proud, and horny. D’you have any idea how hot it is to know you’re tough enough to take whatever I throw at you? You’re stronger than I am without even trying, and I love that. Makes me want to see just how much you can take.”

“Max,” she hissed, shooting a mortified look Meilin’s way, who grinned and waved an airy hand.

“I didn’t hear anything,” she announced, heading toward the end of the truck to hop off. “I just hope you two patch things up before the kids decide to have their war without you.”

“It’s patched, it’s patched.” Pari rose to her full height, cheeks burning in the cold. Then she found herself smiling at Max as she also moved to the end of the truck. “I’m just glad my real coat isn’t going to be in this fight. I wouldn’t want it to get messed up the first day out.”

He reached up for her. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Maybe.” She placed her hands on his shoulders and tried not to squeal like an idiot when she went momentarily airborne. Then her feet were on the ground, and she was looking up at him while his hands continued to hold onto her waist. “What do you think I’m saying?”

“Are you going to wear that coat and be warm so I won’t worry about you?”

That strange tightening in her chest happened again at the thought of him worrying about her, and her hands slid up the wide slope of his shoulders to thread through the dark blonde hair at his nape. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“Sweet Pari.” Holding her close, she heard him suck in a short breath, as if he was also suffering that odd tightening of the chest. Then a blue-tinted snowball splatted against his shoulder, followed by a cascade of children’s giggles. He glanced back at the kids before turning to lift an eyebrow at Pari. “Ready for war, kitten?”

Her laughter joined the children’s. “Let’s do this.”

“This is a preemptive strike,” Payne announced the moment he walked into Max’s tattoo booth. “One, when Scout tells you it’s mandatory for you to be present for the GQ cover reveal press conference tomorrow, I’m the one who told her to tell you that. That means the term mandatory actually means mandatory, so there’s no getting out of it. And two, I’m calling a staff meeting over our evening break, so don’t disappear. Scout’s putting in an order from Bubba’s Wings, so text or tell her what you want in the next few minutes, or choke down whatever she orders for you without complaint.”

“What I want is to spend my break with Pari.” Spraying down the tattoo table with cleaner, Max took a moment to scowl at his employer. “Call a meeting during regular business hours.”

“What the fuck would I do without everyone telling me how to run my business? Break time is the only time when I’m not booked with clients, just like everyone else under this roof,” Payne said, looking harassed. “We’ve held monthly staff meetings during break since we opened our damn doors, so it’s not like this is a big departure from how shit gets done. What the hell’s your problem?”

“I don’t get to see Pari.”

“Yeah, well, boohoo, pal. I don’t get to see Becks, so I guess we’re in the same fucking boat.”

Max threw the rag he’d used to wipe down his table onto the counter. “I’m serious, Payne. I’m skipping this damn meeting. I’ll show up for the GQ thing tomorrow without complaint, and I’ll catch up on whatever I miss during the meeting later. But being here during my break isn’t gonna fucking happen.”

“And here I thought my problem-child days were over when Twist finally settled things with Angel.” Payne sighed, apparently talking to himself before focusing a scowl on Max. “Let me guess. Even if I make it an order for you to be here for the staff meeting later on tonight, you’re still going to do whatever the fuck you want. That means your ass is going to be across the street instead of seated at the conference table. Am I right?”

Max didn’t even have to think about it. “Yeah.”

“Goddamn it.” With another sigh, Payne leaned a hip against the counter and crossed his arms. “Are you going to be a pain in the ass about this staff meeting every month now that you’re seeing that waitress, or is this a one-shot deal? And just so you know, this had damn well better be a one-shot deal.”

“I fucked up.” Max grimaced and shoved his hands into his back pockets. This wasn’t easy to admit, even to himself, and less so to Payne. “Fucked up so bad that at one point it looked like she was going to bail. I think we’re okay now, but I wanna make sure we’re good.”

Payne’s quirked brows were the only indication of surprise at the unexpected admission before he nodded once. “Been there, done that, will no doubt do it again. Sucks being in the doghouse, doesn’t it?”

“I’m not loving it.”

“I like her,” Payne offered after a moment, surprising Max. Payne was the hard-as-nails unstoppable force that built House Of Payne, so getting all touchy-feely was definitely not his thing. “She didn’t hesitate, your Pari. She just jumped right in when she saw someone needed help and really came through for everyone. Honest to God, I didn’t know what the fuck was going on with that woman when she went down.”

“Aside from having an asshole for a date, neither did I.”

“I would’ve thought your lady was like a doctor or nurse or med tech or something, instead of a waitress.”

The same thought had occurred to Max as well. “As far as I know, she’s not.”

“Does she have the same kind of food allergies or something, and that was why she was able to recognize the problem?”

“I didn’t ask.” Actually he’d started to, but he’d gotten distracted by fantasies of Pari in an ass-flashing tennis skirt. While that was understandable, the fact remained he’d been woefully uncurious about the woman who had begun to occupy every inch of headspace he had. “I don’t think she does. She wouldn’t work in a greasy spoon like Mad Cow if she did. Even without food allergies, half the items on the menu are borderline lethal.”

“True.” Then Payne shrugged. “Whatever your lady friend is, I was glad to have her around when we needed her. Scout also thinks she’s good people, and since she’s got that weird sixth sense when it comes to trouble, I’d say that’s a legit endorsement. Feel free to bring Pari around for the magazine cover reveals tomorrow. It’s at noon so she should be off work then, yeah? You can get all your bitching out of your system with her about how you don’t like the covers or whatever, so I don’t have to listen to it. That’s what I do with Becks.”

Max shook his head. “Why does that genius of a woman put up with your shit? She deserves better.”

“Yeah, she does, but she’s stuck with me. We’re having twin girls in just a few months, so there’s seriously no escape for her now.”

“Holy shit, twins? I didn’t know that. Congrats.” Max clasped Payne’s hand and did a chest-bump, all the while reading the other man’s face. When he saw only happiness there, he couldn’t help but grin. “You prick. You think you’ve got the world by the balls, don’t you? Kickass business, hot artist wife, a couple of awesome boys, and now twin girls on the way. Did you make a deal with the devil?”

“I fought like hell to get everything I’ve got, including Becks, and I’m going to continue to fight like hell to keep it all. That’s the key, man—you gotta fight for anything that’s worth keeping.” He answered the grin with one of his own as he headed toward the door. “Try to keep that in mind the next time you land your ass in the doghouse, yeah? I know it sucks at the time, but fights usually lead to clearing up shit that needs to be cleared up. Better yet, once the fights are over you can get to the good stuff. Nothing beats make-up sex. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s how the twins were made.”

“I’m still not coming to the staff meeting,” Max said to his back.

“One-shot deal.” Payne didn’t look back as he exited the booth.

There had to be a full moon, Pari decided with forced calm while she watched a customer count out pennies, nickels and dimes to pay their bill. Earlier she’d had a party of eight that had left her a dollar tip because their massive order of food hadn’t come fast enough. Before that, she’d made Bosko deal with an amorous couple who thought having their hands down each other’s pants was an acceptable way to act in public. And at the very start of her shift, she’d watched a toddler place a handful of spaghetti on the head of a woman who sat in the booth behind him, while the toddler’s mother just kept scrolling away on her smartphone.

Mondays were never fun, but this Monday was breaking records.

When the door opened with a jingle and Max walked in, she almost wept in relief. “Now there’s a face I’ve been waiting to see.”

“I like the sound of that.” His gaze burned over her as she at last handed over the receipt to the customer before she headed around the cashier’s counter. He pulled her in for a quick but thorough kiss, then chuckled when she shot a guilty glance in the direction of the kitchen and Bosko. “What, no kissing on the job? That’s unfriendly. They should have a policy change. Free kisses with every paid bill.”

“Bosko would be cool with that, as long as he could give out the kisses while cosplaying a Dementor or a zombie.”

“Think I’ll stick with your kisses, thanks.” He glanced around the dining room, zeroing in on her empty section. “Slow night?”

“It is now. Don’t ask what it was like earlier. I’m still reeling.”

He made a sound of sympathy. “You want a foot massage, kitten, I’m your man.”

“Maybe later.” The words were out before she gave it a thought, but when she realized that it was exactly how she felt she couldn’t help but smile. “In the meantime, let’s grab a booth around the corner and out of the way.”

“Now you’re talking.” They walked toward an empty booth near the mouth of a hallway that led to a cleaning closet, a pantry and the restrooms. As they did so, Max’s hand slid down her back to cup her bottom, his fingers squeezing just hard enough to make sure she understood he was laying a claim. “You should know I get hot as hell when you make like you wanna get me alone. Makes me think of all the nasty things I can do to make you moan.”

“You don’t say.” Any second now her panties were going to drop to her ankles in spontaneous surrender. Before that could happen, she put her hand on his and made herself pull it away as they reached the booth. “We are going to have to go over the rules of where you can touch me while we’re in public, because…wow. Just wow.”

“Rules are for suckers.” His grin was unrepentant as he slid into a seat, and before she knew what he was going to do, he hooked a finger where the front of her uniform was buttoned. Her breath skittered to a halt when the faintest tug made her lean toward his upturned face. It was either that or risk having the first button come undone. “I broke a rule so I could see you tonight, kitten. Everyone else is in a boring staff meeting right now, but I’m not. I’m here because I needed to see you, so it’s time you understand. Rules aren’t going to work with me.”

The delicious fire blistering her skin was getting worse. “Something’s got to work, because come to find out, I want to do that whole ripping-your-clothes-off thing in the worst way. As much as my boss likes me, I still think I’d get fired for getting you naked in public, not to mention arrested.”

“I wouldn’t press charges.” His eyes had darkened as she spoke, and his teasing smile vanished under a hunger so vast is was almost frightening. “Your call—naked, or not naked. You tell me.”

“I’m not getting you naked in public.” But the words came out absently as her mind came up with a delightful picture of Max naked—those broad shoulders and the long, lean torso that she liked almost as much as she liked the strong columns of his thighs. And then there was all that intriguing territory in between…she shivered. Now that was something worth dreaming about.

But dreaming only went so far. Seeing, though…

Seeing and feeling his body would be so much more fun than dreaming.

“Pari?”

“Edie, watch my section for a few minutes, okay? Thanks.” Without looking at anyone else but Max, Pari pulled him out of the booth and down the hallway, deliberately not thinking about whether or not this was a smart move, or how improperly she was about to behave. This wasn’t smart and she was about to be insanely improper, but she didn’t care.

All she cared about was Max.

“I can spare a few minutes.” As she spoke, she opened the door to the pantry and pushed him in, absently breathing in the scents of powdered gravy mix and pepper. “Not enough time to get naked, but at least—”

That was as far as she got before he had the pantry door closed and her body backed up against it while his mouth came down on hers. One of his hands held her wrist over her head, while his other hand slid up her thigh, bunching up the skirt of her uniform as he went. His knee slid between hers while his hips ground boldly against her pelvis. His shaft was so hard that a surge of wet arousal bloomed in her cleft in response, and she moaned into his mouth when her intimate flesh throbbed with the rush of hot blood.

Bang-zoom, to the moon.

The man gave new definition to the phrase.

Excitement shallowed out her breath while her pulse climbed into the stratosphere. Her free hand pushed against the back of his head to make sure his mouth didn’t leave hers, because she couldn’t get enough of the taste of him. But all too soon she needed more.

She needed to feel him.

All of him.

But his stupid clothing kept getting in her way.

He had one hand trapped above her head, and a tug on it told her that she was well and truly pinned. That left her with taking her free hand from his head to slide it around the collar of his hoodie until she blindly found the zipper. She yanked it halfway down—her own body got in the way, with him pressing her against the door—and dived her hand inside. The heat radiating off of him was intoxicating, and she slid her hand down his side in search of the edge of the T-shirt he wore.

“You want to feel me?” Max’s voice was a low growl as he pulled back just enough to speak, his hot breath caressing her hypersensitive lips. “Tell me you want to feel me, Pari.”

“I’m going crazy, I want to feel you so much.” Again she tugged at her imprisoned wrist, while her free hand at last found the hem of his shirt. Delight zipped through her when she finally had his skin beneath her palm for the first time, and without hesitation she let it roam up from his waist to the subtle, muscle-padded ladder of his rib cage. She had to bite her lip to stop from sighing out loud as the delicious feel of him worked on her like a drug. “Let my wrist go, Max.”

“If I do that, I lose what little control I’ve got left. Behave yourself,” he warned when she pulled fruitlessly against his hold. “Be the good girl you are and do as I say.”

“There you go again, thinking I’m a docile little pushover just because I’m nice.” She went up on tiptoe to catch his lower lip between her teeth, reveling in his sound of surprise before his mouth once again crushed down on hers in a kiss so fierce it made her head hit the door.

There we go.

“My kitten likes to bite.” Far from turned off, the delight in Max’s voice made her blood burn. Or maybe it burned because his hand at her thigh slid all the way up to her bum. He gave the swell of one cheek a firm squeeze before he shoved past the flimsy barrier of her panties. “I like.”

“If you like that, you’re going to love what else I can do with my mouth.” If he’d just let her go…

“Pari.” His face tautened, and he looked almost scary as he gazed down at her. “Just how much of a pervy girl are you under that innocent façade?”

“If you’d let go of my hand, I’d be happy to show you.”

“We’re not fucking against a door in a dingy diner’s storage room our first time out.”

That surprised a laugh out of her. “The setting means something to you? I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

“Romantic enough to know you deserve the best.” He pulled her hard up against his stiffened cock, and in anticipation she lifted her leg to brush her thigh along his. Another growl escaped him, and his head dropped so he could taste the skin where neck met shoulder. “We’re not gonna fuck here, kitten, but I am going to make you come. And when I do, I want you to do it while imagining my cock is inside you.”

The words rang through her until they were the only thing she heard.

“You stopped breathing.” His smile was so wicked it made her pelvic muscles clench. “You picturing it?”

She had to swallow before she could answer. “Yes.”

“Good. Now feel it.” He slid his hand inside her now-soaked panties and delved into her intimate folds, and she jumped as if touched by a live wire.

She was not going to survive this.

“Max…”

“Sweet Pari. So wet for me.” He sounded happier—and hungrier—than she had ever heard him, and it turned her on in the worst way. “Don’t stop me now.”

“Fair warning. I get loud.” Seriously, he had to know what he was getting into when it came to her. “In fact, now that I think about it, this probably isn’t the best idea.”

“You kidding? It’s the best idea I’ve ever had, and it’s only getting better. I want to see what it takes to make you scream.”

“Yeah, sure, it’s all fun and games until someone loses a…a job. Oh. Oh.” She bit her lip and sucked on it to keep from crying out when his middle finger moved along her channel, covering himself with her hot slickness before he massaged his way up to her clit.

It was like throwing a lit match into a pool of oil.

It had been so long since she had allowed herself to feel pleasure. The shocking death of her parents had frozen her in grief, and she hadn’t been able to do anything more than work, eat and sleep. And after…

It had been all but impossible to even remember what pleasure was.

This, though…

This was a bliss she’d never forget.

“Max. Max.” Closing her eyes, she rocked her hips urgently against his touch. The friction. Oh God, the friction. “Harder. Faster.”

“Fuck.” His breath scorched her neck as he gave her what she demanded, pressing that nub of nerves that her whole being was centered on, and stroking it in a rhythm designed to melt her already-quivering muscles. “Think about me being inside you, kitten. Feel me fucking you so hard that just thinking about me makes you wet. Want me, Pari. Want me inside this sweet, hot pussy until you want to rip my clothes off and you don’t give a shit who knows it.”

“Yes.” The erotic imagery pouring through her mind fed the already-powerful stimulation he so generously gave her, and the sweet pleasure ballooned until it was no longer sweet, but piercing and brutal. She loved it. The intensity of it burned along her nerve endings until her whole body was on fire and desperate for more.

Then it happened, that exquisite explosion of wildfire ecstasy. The only warning she gave was a ragged gasp, but that was all he needed to move to cover her mouth with his, and with a kiss he absorbed her mindless cries. Eventually she would grateful for that, but in the heat of the moment she was too far gone to care who heard her.

Only when she came back down to earth did she become aware that she’d twined her leg around his waist to pull him to the juncture of her thighs, while he supported most of her weight by pinning her to the door. The pressure of his mouth lessened until his lips hovered over hers, while her hips gradually slowed their movement. Then, at long last, they came to an exhausted rest.

Echoes of pleasure still shimmered through her as his lips moved against hers.

“You’re coming home with me tonight.”

It wasn’t a question.

But, considering he’d just given her the best orgasm she’d ever had—despite her body enduring a frustrating emptiness that she freaking needed him to fill—she felt compelled to nod. “I can’t wait.”

“How far away do you live, Max?”

It was five minutes past midnight. The moment Max’s shift at the House was done, he was out the door. If someone had tried to talk to him, he hadn’t heard them, much less seen them.

There was only one person in his universe, and her ass was planted in the seat next to him.

Thankfully Pari seemed to be in the same boat. Even as he pushed out of the House’s front door with the intention of picking her up, she was already outside the Mad Cow, shrugging into her new coat, her eyes locked on him.

Even from across the street he could feel the weight of her gaze. He thought he hadn’t been able to get any more uncomfortable in his crotch after suffering through hours of a denied hard-on, but that one look almost doubled him over. A bad case of blue-balls was nothing compared to Pari Simone openly showing she was hot for him.

If he didn’t get inside of her soon, he was half-certain his dick would break off and he’d fucking die.

“I have a loft in the converted Big Water Brewery, south of Navy Pier on the other side of the river. You can see the Ferris wheel from my balcony.” Fuck, he was babbling. The last thing he was thinking about was the view from his balcony, or the Ferris wheel, or any other goddamn thing.

All his attention was focused on Pari.

She cleared her throat, a tense sound that had him glancing at her. “Sorry to be a bother, but I don’t know this town that well yet. How many minutes will it take to get from here to there?”

“About ten. Fifteen if I catch red lights.”

“That long?” Again she cleared her throat, and by degrees it sank in that she seemed to be as strung-out as he felt. If she had doubts about fucking like weasels, he’d find a way to cope, but dear God if that was the case… “I…oh, boy.” She sank her teeth into her lower lip, sucking on it as she looked at him with huge, dark eyes. “Okay. I don’t know how to say this politely, so I’m just going to blurt it out and hope it doesn’t make you think any less of me.”

His fingers gripped the wheel hard enough to make the leather creak. She was going to back out. Fuck, she was going to back out… “What?”

“You asked earlier if I was a pervy girl. I know you were joking, but… I think I might be. A pervy girl, that is.”

He nearly forgot to brake for a red light. “What?”

“I’ve always had a bit of an oral fixation. That’s just how I am. It’s a comfort thing, I guess, and because of that, I’ve been fantasizing—a lot—about you. Orally, I mean.” She put her hands over her face that even in the dark he could see was turning several shades of red. “And, here we are at my life’s most embarrassing moment. Excuse me while I die.”

“Pari—”

“Please tell me I haven’t offended you. I’m so sorry if I have, because that wasn’t my intention.”

“Paradise.” The swing from grinding frustration to ballooning possibilities was so dizzying it was a wonder he didn’t pass out. “Are you saying you’ve been fantasizing about sucking my cock?”

She dropped her hands only to wince. “Oh my God, Max, the way you talk.”

“What about it?”

“When you’re talking about intimate stuff, you don’t put it so…you know. Out there like that.”

“What I want to put out there is my cock. Then hopefully you’ll wrap that sweet little mouth of yours around it and suck me off until I come so hard the world explodes.”

By degrees her distress melted away, and the unmistakable gleam of excitement took its place. “Really? You’re not at all wigged out that I’m kind of a freak?”

“Kitten, I’m thanking whatever blowjob god there is in the universe that you exist.” Without another thought he reached down, unbuckled his belt and undid the front of his jeans. “Give me your hand.”

It was gratifying to see how quickly she did as he asked.

“You feel how turned on you make me? How much I want to fuck you?” He guided her hand past layers of fabric to the steel-stiff flesh, and against her palm his skin seemed volcanically hot in comparison. “I’ve been like this every damn day since I met you. You walk into the room, I get hard. You ask for my order, I get hard. You walk away, I get hard. From the first moment I laid eyes on you to right the fuck now, this is your effect on me. I’m more consistent than the sunrise.”

“You’re…” After a moment’s hesitation, her fingers curled around his stiffness in an unmistakable claiming. Sweat popped out along his brow as he let that sensation seep into every corner of his soul. “Impressive.”

Hell, yeah. “You know it.”

“And wonderful. I can’t tell you what it does to me, knowing you want me the same way that I want you.”

That admission, spoken in her shy, quiet voice while she began to stroke his shaft was enough to make him groan out loud. “Fuck wanting. I passed wanting you after the first week. You’re my crack, my fantasy fuck, my obsession. And if you don’t get your head in my lap and get your mouth around my cock in the next five seconds I’m not going to be responsible for my actions.”

Her eyes widened, though bless her beautiful soul, the hand pumping his dick never paused. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re driving.”

“Road head. Never had it. Always wanted it. Gonna have it now. I won’t crash us,” he added when she hesitated, though watching her tongue come out to moisten her lips nearly made him come then and there. “I’d never risk hurting you, Pari, you got my word on that. So put your head in my lap and wrap your mouth around my cock, and let’s get what we both want.”

Her fleeting smile told him all he needed to know before she unbuckled her belt, laid her stomach on the padded storage compartment between the seats and lowered her head. At the same time, the hand that had been pleasuring him brought his cock out from the cage of his clothes, her fingers giving him a squeeze and twist to free him. His grunt of pained pleasure rolled into a hiss when the next second the head of his cock was enveloped by wet warmth.

“Oh…yeah.” The words ground out from between his teeth while his head fell back against the seat’s headrest and his eyes almost closed. But at that moment the light turned green, and with a care he never displayed when his cock was tucked properly away, he touched his foot to the accelerator and tried to breathe. “Suck me hard, kitten. Turn me inside out.”

Her hum—an acknowledgment that she’d heard him—vibrated along his length, and he bit his lip to keep from moaning out loud. With one hand on the steering wheel, he ran his right hand through her short hair, his fingers tightening on it to help move her up and down over his shaft.

Damn, this was better than any dream he’d ever put together.

He loved everything about her mouth—the way her tongue relentlessly flickered over the hypersensitive ridge of his cockhead, the softness of her lips sliding along the length of his shaft, the intense suction of her mouth that brought already-aroused blood to the surface to make every throb of his heart a dizzyingly sweet ache to endure. From the first moment he’d spotted her, he’d been obsessed with that plump-lipped, pursed mouth of hers. Now he knew why. All of heaven could be created by those lips. With that suspicion at last verified, he’d never let another day to go by without getting a piece of that heaven for himself.

“I love fucking your face like this, kitten. Fucking love it.” His hips began to undulate, and he had to consciously stop that from happening when he realized the action tensed his legs and made his foot heavy on the gas pedal. Deliberately he latched his mind onto the mundanity of driving because he had a promise to keep. First and foremost, he would keep her safe. “I’ve never been a screamer, but…goddamn, I could turn into one now. Shit.” A convulsion of pleasure rippled through him, tightening his stomach muscles and squeezing the breath from his lungs.

So close.

As if sensing he was edging toward the point of no return, she changed her rhythm, her hand twisting around his base while her mouth moved in a counter motion. A harsh grunt escaped him as the new friction hit his nervous system like a jolt of electricity, and then he couldn’t seem to stop the harsh sounds from growling out through the barrier of his gritted teeth. She was killing him with pleasure, killing him with sensation.

He loved it.

Somehow he managed to brake at two more lights, warning her each time he did it. He almost missed his turn toward South Pier and the Chicago Riverwalk, where the rambling, castle-like structure that had once been Big Water Brewery sat. Normally its mishmash of crenellated towers and the faded blue and yellow logo on its exposed brick front reminded him of the ancient buildings around Moscow. Now, however, feelings of nostalgia were the furthest thing from his mind as the pleasure began to sharpen enough to hurt. He was panting and barely aware of it as he rolled to a stop half on and half off the deserted road.

The driveway that led into the building’s underground parking lot was just across the street, but he wasn’t going to make it. He had to shut his eyes. He had to focus on the excruciating pleasure folding in on itself and tightening his balls. He had to give himself over to the overwhelming tide of ecstasy roaring up to take him. He had to…

He came hard while she milked him with her hand, her mouth, her tongue, even her throat. It was beyond heaven. The pleasure was so intense that for the first time in his life he lost himself completely for a few moments, capable only of feeling the mindless bliss of his release. He was even oblivious to the groans of pure, transported pleasure as she took everything he had to give, his head pressing back against the seat as he strained to hold onto the last, lingering vestiges of his orgasm until he collapsed into his seat.

“Paradise.” It took him a while before he could speak again through his labored breathing. His cock began to soften as she at last pulled away, and he brought her head up to kiss her, tasting himself on her lips. “You were well-named.”

Even in the dark, her eyes burned with an excitement that got him hotter than hell all over again. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I more than think it, I know it. Such a sweet and gentle lady to the world, and such a pervy kitten in private. You’re my personal definition of paradise, and I’ve only just begun to explore you.”

“Only just begun?” There was a tone in her voice he hadn’t expected—a teasing, seductive tone that both surprised and charmed him, and impossibly he felt desire stir back to life deep in his gut. “That’s some big talk right there. You might have to prove to me that you’ve got the stamina to back those words up.”

“Careful, throwing challenges out like that.” He smiled as his blood began to hum and his liquefied muscles once again came to life with anticipation. “Keep pushing and it’ll become my mission in life to see that you’re walking so bowlegged tomorrow everyone will know you just enjoyed the hardest night of fucking you’ve ever had.”

“You really think you can back that up?’

Hot damn, she was begging for it. “You’re about to find out.”

It nearly killed Pari to not skip alongside Max as they walked into his loft. If she’d ever been this happy before, she couldn’t remember it. She’d only had one real long-term relationship in her life, during her junior and senior years in undergrad. He’d been a botany student interested in the study of medicinal plants, and since that had dovetailed so neatly with her own interests she’d felt they made a logical match. She’d bought into that pragmatic theory so much that for a time she’d made herself believe he was The One, even though he hadn’t been big on making sure she enjoyed herself as much as he did when it came to sexy times. Then she’d won her fellowship to continue on to grad school while he’d moved to Chicago to get a job to save for getting his masters degree, and the relationship had come to a natural end.

With the benefit of hindsight, she now totally understood why she’d let that relationship fizzle. Apart from the inequality in the satisfaction department—which was a biggie in her book—there had never been this all-consuming drive to simply be together. And while she’d always enjoyed giving her partner pleasure with her mouth, she’d never obsessed on it like she did with Max. When he’d climaxed, his pleasure had given her a mini-release, something that had never happened before in her life. Until that moment, she hadn’t even known that could happen.

Now she couldn’t wait to discover what else she didn’t know.

“This is beautiful.” Light bloomed in the loft, and as she shrugged out of her coat she looked around with interest while he closed and locked the industrial steel door behind them. The ceilings, easily fifteen feet, were of heavy timber and had exposed ductwork and black pipes running long the wooden beams. The walls were exposed brick throughout the open space and the floor was dark plank wood and, while polished, looked like it had been there from the beginning. A copper vat, no doubt a leftover from the brewery, had been cut in half and anchored to the brick wall next to a fireplace, and several stools at the kitchen island had seats that had clearly once been wooden beer kegs and had been repurposed.

But more than the hints of nostalgia of what the structure had once been, the place was clearly the home of an artist. Abstract paintings filled with color were scattered in no certain order along the walls, most of which were undoubtedly painted by Max. An iron post with a large clock hanging off of it—a relic of Old Chicago—stood in a corner above an easel that was placed on a paint-spattered drop cloth. The one interior wall in the room was covered in a winter forest mural, with naked, black branches curling like fingers around the wall’s edge and into the bedroom beyond. In the kitchen, each whitewashed cabinet was decorated with long-bearded gnome-like creatures. Some were trying to open the cabinets by the edge or reaching up for the handles, while others slept. Then there was the one that hung from one hand from the top of a cabinet door while flipping the bird with his free hand. Another had its back turned, and was clearly peeing in a corner.

Yep. Definitely Max’s work.

“What are these little guys?” Smiling, she headed for the nearest cabinet, where one gnome was reaching up to polish the cabinet’s handle.

“Domovoi. Russian house spirits. Mostly good, but sometimes they’re assholes.” Tossing his keys onto the kitchen island, he came up behind her and sandwiched her body between his and the counter, her back to his front. “I want to give you a tour of the most important aspects of my place.”

In a heartbeat, her excitement shot through the roof. “Sounds exciting. What is it that you want to show me first?”

“First,” he whispered, his chin coming to rest on her shoulder as his hands slid up her thighs, bunching up the skirt of her uniform, “I want to show you the counter, where you’re going to sit while I fuck you standing. Then I want to show you my easy chair, where you’re going to ride my dick like a cowgirl. Then I’m going to show you the shower, where I’m going to take you from behind. After that I’m going to show you my bed, and that’s where the fun really begins.”

The tingling heat between her legs sparked invisible fire to rush along her skin wherever he touched. “Is this the counter right here that you’re talking about?”

“It is.”

“It’s a nice counter.”With her breath backing up in lungs that didn’t know how to work with all the excitement coursing through her, she looked over her shoulder and locked her gaze on his. “You won’t mind if I sit on it without any panties, will you? I’m only asking because I had to take them off after we finished with your, um…dinner break. Too wet to wear.”

His response surprised the dickens out of her. His face stilled in an almost unnatural way, along with the hands now on her upper thighs, and he flushed as if holding his breath. For a moment she thought maybe she’d embarrassed him with her admission—but really, her panties had been such a mess after he’d finished with her that continuing to wear them was unthinkable—and she began to regret her honesty.

Then he moved all at once, shocking a squeak out of her. He hitched up her skirt past her waist and ran his hands over the curve of her bum in a surprisingly covetous way, as if he’d been dreaming of doing that all his life. Then he wheeled her around and attacked the buttons at the front of her uniform.

“You naughty, naughty girl.” He kissed her hard and quick, his hunger palpable before he backed away to once again lay siege to her buttons. “If the people you waited on tonight had known you were bare-ass naked under your uniform, you would’ve been eaten alive. Did that thought excite you?”

“N-no.” But when he put it that way…

“My kinky little liar.” His breath was disturbed as he again paused to kiss her, and the rake of his teeth against her lower lip made her catch her breath. “A thin panel of fabric was all that kept you from being exposed to the world, and you knew it while no one else did. Tell me that sexy little secret didn’t make you wet.”

“I didn’t think about it like that.” Her answer was almost lost as he ripped the uniform up and over her head. She toed out of her shoes before reaching for his belt buckle, while he reached around and took care of her bra’s catch. “I was too worried about what would happen if I had to bend over to pick up something that was dropped. Luckily that didn’t happen.”

“Don’t wear any underwear tomorrow. Trust me, it’ll be all you’ll think about.”

“Max—”

“Do it, and you’ll see how hot it is.” His hands swept over her breasts, claiming them with a squeeze and a caress over the nipples that made her jolt, then moan. His mouth seemed to want a taste of that moan; it came down on hers, his tongue probing bold and deep. Then he hauled her up on the counter, his lips still fused to hers as if he’d never allow them to be apart again.

His urgency was contagious. Ignoring the cold bite of the granite counter against her naked bottom, Pari focused on pushing his hoodie off and tugging the long-sleeved House Of Payne T-shirt he wore over his head. The heat radiating from him was the first thing that registered, and she soaked it up like a sponge. Then as she opened her eyes to help him with the rest of his clothes, the vivid artwork covering every inch of his torso was a sight she knew instinctively she’d never forget.

“Oh, my.”

Breathtaking.

Now she knew what that word truly meant.

Cyrillic writing wreathed the collar area, followed by what looked to be intricate Celtic knots on his well-defined pectorals. Along his left shoulder and down his arm were images of the onion domes of St. Basil’s Cathedral, the Russian hammer and sickle, the images of Vladimir Lenin and a scary-looking man with a long beard she thought might be Rasputin. The man’s long beard melted into coils of razor wire, which were entangled with automatic rifles and scattered bullets. On his right shoulder and down that arm were the images of the Statue of Liberty and the poem Lady Liberty held written out in cursive, as well as an American flag blowing in the wind. Just below that on the inside of his forearm was a Soldier’s Cross—a rifle stuck in the ground with combat boots at its base and an armored helmet hanging from the butt of the rifle, with the name “Hendricks” stenciled across it. On the other side of his forearm was a screaming eagle in full flight and talons outstretched as it closed in for a kill. Everywhere she looked there was more—from the roaring bear on his stomach to a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth on his ribs, to more Cyrillic writing along his pelvic area that disappeared past his jeans—and she was determined to see it all.

But at the moment there were more important things to attend to.

“I like your eyes on me, kitten.” His voice broke into her thoughts, and with a start she realized she was staring. And probably drooling. “But I like your hands and mouth on me more. You gonna do something about that, or what?”

“You’re so good to look at, I don’t know if I can stop.” But she smiled in breathless anticipation as she said it, her hands resuming their task of freeing him from his clothes. “You’re beautiful, Max.”

“Paradise.” Something wonderful flared in his eyes before he kissed her once more, and there was so much reverence in it that it made her throat tighten. She wrapped both her arms and legs around him in an all-over body hug, and she smiled when he groaned at the heated skin-against-skin contact.

Ah, yes.

This had to be what perfect felt like.

“Looking at you now, it’s like I’m holding the essence of every wet dream I’ve ever had.” Before she could push his jeans and boxer briefs off his hips, he grabbed his wallet and fumbled out a condom. In seconds he had it in place. “If just holding you is like that, being inside you is going to fucking break me. But I’m willing to take the risk.”

“Are you already up to the task when just ten minutes ago…?” A gasp cut her words off as he entered her in one smooth thrust, and her heart paused as she at last had the answer to the question of what it would feel like to be filled by him. “Oh…wow.”

“I wasn’t kidding about you being bowlegged tomorrow.” With raw power he thrust into her, one arm bracing her at the small of her back while his free hand mercilessly squeezed and rubbed the sensitized nipple of her breast. “You caused a shit-ton of boners for months on end, woman. Now you pay the consequences.”

“Don’t talk.” His rhythm was without any finesse and more like an animalistic mating than she’d ever experienced. As she listened to their bodies smacking together and reeled at the tension of pleasure tightening deep in her belly, she gloried in every bit of it. “Don’t talk, just go deeper. Harder.”

“Christ, you love being fucked, don’t you? Yeah, you love it.” His voice was thick with exhilaration, as if he thought he’d stumbled across hidden treasure. Breathing harshly, he surged more fiercely into her as though some internal restraint had snapped and he could now glory in being as wild as he wanted. “You love it just as much as I love fucking you. Say it.”

“I love it. Oh God, I love it.” The pleasure was building, building, so close she could almost touch it. Blindly she brought her knees up, her heels digging into his buttocks to push him deeper, while simultaneously bringing his hand up so she could suck his thumb into her mouth.

“Pari.”

The tension broke inside her a nanosecond before it released in him, and the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard was her breathless cry of pure ecstasy joining in chorus with his, a man who said he was no screamer. That was her final conscious thought before she gave herself over to the euphoria flooding through her.

It lasted for both an eternity and not nearly long enough, and while part of her wanted to cry when the pleasure began to recede, another part of her couldn’t wait to climb that mountain all over again.

For his part, his breath feathered hard and fast against her overheated flesh as he leaned into her, and instinctively she wrapped her arms around his shoulders in support. If she’d been in his shoes, she would have collapsed ages ago.

“So,” she murmured against his ear, kissing it lightly, “where’s this easy chair you wanted to show me?”

At that, Max’s chuckle rolled out of him, low and deep and sexy.

“You bit my thumb.”

“I said I’m sorry.” Pari tried not to blush as Max handed the Escalade’s keys over to the valet parking attendant, then curled an arm around her to steer her into the mall. “Do you need a band-aid? A splint? How about a cast?”

“Smartass.” Smiling, he pulled her closer to nuzzle his lips against her temple. “Keep going and I’ll have to give you a spanking.”

She couldn’t help but shiver, and when his arm tightened around her, she knew he’d felt it. “With talk like that, you really should have gone straight to my place.”

Earlier that morning, Max had decided he didn’t have time to swing by her apartment for a fresh change of clothes before he had to be at House Of Payne for the magazine cover-reveal. But apparently he had all the time in the world to take her shopping on Magnificent Mile. And not just any shopping. Oh, no. With a special event that he had to attend around midday looming, he announced flatly that he wasn’t going to show up for it unless she was there along with him to keep him company. All too well he remembered the big deal she’d made about what she’d been wearing the last time he’d dragged her to a House Of Payne party. Because of that, he insisted she wore something that, as he put it, wouldn’t make her “bitch” his ear off. And since he was insisting upon that one stipulation, he thought it was only fair that he paid for whatever outfit she chose.

Though his pushiness was enough to drive her crazy, the prospect of Max buying her something didn’t bother her nearly as much as it did when he’d bought her the coat. Maybe she was getting used to him, she thought as he guided her into a glass-fronted shop that had faceless mannequins in ridiculously hyper-chic poses. Or maybe she just didn’t feel like going to a fancy event at the House dressed in the borrowed pair of baggy sweatpants and a T-shirt Max had given her to wear.

Or maybe that barely acknowledged part of her that adored receiving thoughtful gifts from Max was too bowled over to even consider saying no.

Whatever it was, she rolled with it because it made him happy.

More than anything, that made her happy.

“If you don’t like anything here, there are about a billion other stores we can hit.” Looking around the shop with a basic lack of enthusiasm that all men seemed to get once they entered the world of fashion, Max checked his watch before handing her a credit card. “Just remember we need to be at the House by noon.”

“I doubt it’s going to take a couple hours to find something appropriate to wear.” In point of fact, she’d already spied something she couldn’t wait to try on, so with a quick kiss she hurried over to a sales clerk. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Max stroll out of the shop toward some benches and prayed to the shopping gods that everything would fit.

Less than fifteen minutes later she walked out wearing her purchases, the borrowed clothes in a shopping bag and his card and the receipt folded neatly around it. “Before you look at the receipt, I need to warn you,” she said, holding the card out to him while he came to his feet, his expression so blankly stunned she inwardly squealed in girly triumph. “You’ll only see the dress and choker on there. When I saw the over-the-knee black boots and stockings, I had to have them because they absolutely make this outfit. But since they cost more than the dress, I couldn’t in good conscience make you buy them for me when I hadn’t even—”

“I need to fuck you.”

Well. “Uh—”

“Now.” Without warning, he framed her face in both his hands and pulled her mouth to his. He kissed her as if it was the last kiss he would ever have, but just as she was melting into it he pulled away to once again rake his gaze over her. She knew what he was seeing—a feminine A-line wisp of dark eggplant chiffon that hit mid-thigh, the neckline straight across, from collarbone to collarbone, belying the back that plunged midway down the spine. It was just a shade or two lighter than the color of her hair, and she’d been surprised and pleased that the dress’s romantic lines somehow still managed to compliment the daring hair color.

She’d never thought she was the kind of person who would purchase thigh-high stiletto boots, or sport a radical hair color. If she’d stayed in Waukegan, she probably never would have. But as time went on and she grew further away from that life, she kept discovering hidden parts of herself that she liked.

A lot.

Thankfully, Max seemed to like those hidden parts as well.

“Too bad we didn’t take advantage of the dressing room’s privacy when we had the chance.” Though Pari kept her tone light, she couldn’t help but feel a genuine trickle of regret. How shocking. After all, it would have been highly inappropriate, not to mention extraordinarily risky to go for what amounted to semi-public sex. But still, she couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit sorry that the opportunity for some risqué hanky-panky had been missed. “What do you say we—”

“I said now.” Taking her by the hand, Max headed for the storefronts opposite from where they were, and at first Pari didn’t understand when he entered a brightly lit reception area of a tanning salon. Then Max left her to speak to the woman at the desk for a few moments. Pari watched with growing amazement mingled with arousal as cash was exchanged, and within moments they were led down a door-lined hallway. A few doors were open, but most were closed with the sound of spray tanning machines—to Pari’s ears they sounded something like weak vacuum cleaners—working away to give winter-worn Chicagoans a sunny glow. Since she’d never been to a tanning salon before, Pari wanted to take a peek past one of those closed doors, but before she knew it they were entering a room at the end of the hall.

“Our luxury suite,” the woman announced, pocketing the money Max had given her. “Just so you know, the door doesn’t lock—company policy. But all employees know not to enter a room when the door is closed.” With that, she offered a little bow and left, pulling the door shut firmly behind her.

Pari stared after her. “So, are we here to get a nice golden—”

That was all the time he gave her to chitchat.

Max’s kisses were like the man himself—hot and wild and unbelievably bold. His mouth mated with hers in an unapologetic act of sexuality. He’d never hidden that he’d wanted her from the beginning, and it amazed her that she’d once found that boldness unsettling. After enduring the hell of lies and betrayal of her past life, Max was exactly what she needed—upfront and honest about what he wanted, and not giving a damn about playing stupid head games.

He was perfect.

The room was small with terra cotta walls, an open-sided black marble stall that had to be where the spray tanning took place. Off to one side there was a cart filled with bottles, lotions, towels and other supplies, and a vinyl-covered bench sat before a three-sided mirror. With his mouth never leaving hers, he backed up to the bench, his hands roaming over her back as he pulled her with him.

“We have half an hour.” He bit at her lower lip and sat down on the bench’s end. “How many times do you think I can make you come in that amount of time?”

“I only care about how many times I can make you lose your mind.” With her heart thrumming, she began to sink to the floor between his knees. To her surprise, he caught her by the elbows, stilling her.

“No, kitten.” He slid his hands up her thighs under the delicate material of her dress. “You are going to sit your amazing pussy on my face while you take my cock in your mouth.” When the upward slide of his hands continued to meet nothing but bare flesh, his breath hitched to an audible halt. “Pari…”

“What?” Anticipation and arousal squeezed the air out of her lungs as his hands roamed over her bare booty. Then one hand slid between her thighs to caress her intimate folds, and she nearly lost her train of thought. “You, ah… you said not to wear any underwear under my uniform.”

“This isn’t your uniform.”

“I’m practicing. And maybe you were right,” she added, far more interested in the wandering of his hands. “Maybe I do find it exciting to be bare under my clothes with no one knowing about it. Just thinking about it makes me kind of… you know. Turned on.”

“Wet.” His voice was thick with desire, and the sexiest thing she’d ever heard as he began to rub along her channel. Pleasure spiraled through her even as her thigh muscles began to quiver. “It makes you so fucking wet. I love that you’re such a pervy little kitten, and no one knows it but me.”

Her whole body blazed with a blush, even as the sweet pleasure his hand gave her began to take over. “I was perfectly normal and boring until I met you. You’re the one who brings out the perv in me.”

“You’re welcome. Now, come sit on my face so I can make you scream.”

He didn’t have to ask her twice. As he lay back on the bench and undid the front of his pants to free his cock, she moved toward his head and shoulders and let him help her straddle him. When the filmy material of her dress got in the way she pulled it up and over her head and tossed it in the general direction of the shopping bag she’d left near the door. Almost naked now with only her bra and boots on, she began to reach for a boot zipper, but he stopped her and redirected her hand toward his stiffened flesh.

“Leave them on,” His breath was already coming fast, and he grunted almost soundlessly when her fingers curled around his cock to stroke him. “I’m going to draw you in those boots someday, they’re so fucking sexy. Now sit down and let me get my mouth on you while you get that mouth of yours around me, my Paradise. We’re on the clock and don’t have any time to waste.”

It was all she could do to stop herself from clapping her hands in glee.

Pari carefully settled her torso on top of his, spreading her legs wide and bracing her free hand on his thigh. She lowered her head to run her tongue around the purpling crown of his cock while rhythmically stroking him. She nearly moaned when it twitched.

Her man was so unbelievably hot.

“Don’t be greedy.” He reached for her so that his fingers could dig into her hips, pulling her down toward his face. “Give me a taste.”

Oh, what a treasure this man was.

The first sweep of his tongue rocked through her with the intensity of an earthquake. The beat of her pulse throbbed in her intimate tissues, while an achy pleasure filled her with a tension that crushed her from within. Wet heat bloomed hot enough to burn between her legs as his tongue worked her. Her hips pumped against him as her brain went fuzzy, and her body went on autopilot as it chased after what felt good. She closed her eyes, partly to savor the lush delight rolling through her, and partly to focus on taking Max as deeply as she could.

But focusing on gifting him with the greatest pleasure a mouth could give became impossible, because he obviously was determined to give her the same. He pulled her down so his mouth could close over the hot little nub of her clit, and a helpless cry whispered from her when he sucked on it. She couldn’t stop herself from grinding down against him, frantically racing toward that elusive ecstasy dancing just beyond her reach.

Then all at once she had it. The tightly spiraling pressure folding in on itself suddenly went supernova in every cell of her body. Her climax rolled on without end, and the mindlessness of pleasure blotted out everything but the joy of wallowing in exquisite sensation.

Echoes of ecstasy were still shivering through her when he suddenly pushed her forward and down his torso. The action pulled his cock from her mouth, and she had to brace her hands on the points of his knees as he sat up and groped for something in the jeans that were still half-on his body.

Quickly she looked over her shoulder at him. “Max, what—”

“I want to come inside you.” Sliding back a little on the bench, he fished out his wallet, flipped it open and pulled out a condom. “As much as I love you sucking me off until I don’t know my fucking name, I love being inside you even more. Stay where you are,” he added harshly when she made a move to sling her leg from its straddled position. After he had the protection in place he caught her once more by the hips. “I’m going to make you come again, kitten, because I love the feel of you tightening around me when it happens. You’ll never know how much I love that.”

Whatever she was about to say vanished when he pulled her down unexpectedly onto his cock, his hands gripping her hips from behind, his chest to her back. She was impaled—there was no other word for it—and a low groan escaped her throat.

Heaven help her, he was so big, stretching her until she thought she might split in two.

Resting her hands on his knees that were in front of her, she arched her lower back, the action settling her hips back against him and changing the angle so that he bottomed out inside her.

Oh.

She settled down onto his lap then arched her lower back again, chasing the sensation.

My.

“Oh, God.” She whispered it reverently as a deep flowering of pleasure opened up inside. Almost without her being conscious of it, her hips began to roll at full speed, and sliding up and down his rock-hard staff became the most deliciously wonderful thing she’d ever done in her life. “Oh, God.”

“Ride my cock, Pari.” As he spoke against her ear, one of his hands snaking around from behind to slide against her clit. “That’s it, fuck me.”

His words, coupled with the stroking of his hand, pushed her over the edge once more. Her orgasm shuddered through her, the pleasure so deep it shut down everything but the sensations coursing through her. His low growl joined her nearly soundless moan, and the fingers clenching on her hips told her that he was right there with her, slamming into her one final time before his hold relaxed.

Wow. Just wow.

“Maybe you’d better wear panties after all.” His beard tickled along her shoulder as she slumped back against him, so boneless she half-believed her skeletal structure had melted. “If I know you’re bare-ass naked under whatever it is you’re wearing, I’m going to have to fuck you where you stand.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Gradually her awareness of the world seeped back into her brain, and while she could hear the vacuum cleaner-like sounds of spray tanners going on throughout the building, she couldn’t be sure they hadn’t been heard. With some semblance of decency returning fast, she forced her legs to move and tried to ignore the pang of regret when she separated her body from his. “Sex at a mall. I cannot believe we just had sex at a mall. I’ve never done anything like this in my life. Do you think anyone heard us?”

“I don’t give a damn if they did.” As she hurried to wriggle back into her dress, he put his clothes to rights at a much more leisurely pace, discarding the condom in the trash and using some hand sanitizer from the cart as he went. “What matters is that it was worth the risk. After coming twice, are you going to try to tell me otherwise?”

Didn’t he sound smug. “I think I must seriously trust you to take care of me to have even considered doing something like this.”

“About time my skittish kitten admits she trusts me.” There was a distinct note of triumph in his smile as he crossed to where she stood, and pulled her into his arms. “It’s taken me months to get you to where you are now, you know that? I deserve a medal for my patience. You’re not the most trusting of souls.”

“I used to be.” Some of the dizzy afterglow dimmed, and the memory of her sister surged full force to the surface. She shook her head to dispel the image and laced her hands behind his neck. “But I’m glad I’m not anymore. There are things in this world that teach a person to not trust everything around them like an idiot. Our ability to learn how to keep our guard up is what keeps the human race safe and alive.”

“You’re talking to one survivor who knows that better than anyone.” His arms tightened around her even as a faint frown darkened his brow at her words. “My father was a cruel prick. I’ve told you that much already, but at least I always had my mother to lean on. When he’d lock me outside at night in subzero weather, my mother always managed to arrange for someone to secretly take me in so I wouldn’t freeze to death. When he’d find fault with my grades and lock me in a room with no food or water, she’d be one step ahead and have whatever I needed hidden under my bed. But then he gave her one beating too many, and that was it. She took off without me, and that just about killed whatever trust I had, for a long time. So yeah—I know what it is to lose faith in the people around you.”

“You mother, maybe she…” Pari bit her lip, not sure how to say it. But for his sake if nothing else, she had to bring up a possibility he might not have considered. “I hope you can forgive me for saying this, but maybe your mother didn’t betray you by leaving voluntarily, Max. Maybe she…well, never left you at all.”

“You mean you think my old man killed her?”

She tried not to wince. “I’m so sorry to bring up that possibility, but if you think about it, it makes sense. I would never be able to leave my child in a dangerous situation. I’d rather die.”

“For what it’s worth, I feel the same way, and I’m damn proud to hear you have that sense of loyalty as well. Loyalty’s everything to me—worth more in this shitty world than any material thing you can touch or spend. I thought my mom was the same way, and that’s why for years I believed she’d been murdered by my father.” He said it so calmly it shocked her enough to make her jaw drop. His blasé familiarity with the possibility of his father offing his mother showed her far more than words how “normal” that hellish way of life had been for him. “I was sure my mother would never betray my trust, never betray me, by leaving me alone with that monster. So for an entire decade I thought she was dead and buried somewhere around the block of apartments where we lived. I even went looking for her grave after she first disappeared, I was so convinced she’d never abandon me. Can you imagine? A little boy looking for his own mother’s grave. I did that every day, for at least a year. Maybe more.”

Just the thought of it cracked her heart right down the middle. Dear God, what that must have done to him…“Did you ever find anything?”

“What I found was my mother, ten years later, perfectly healthy and totally by accident. I was at an art expo that featured everything from traditional painting to tattooing, when suddenly there she was, selling her watercolors.”

And she’d thought she couldn’t hurt for him any more than she already did. “Wow.”

His scoff was so bitter it hurt her to hear it. “Yeah, wow. I couldn’t believe it. I’d been so convinced she was dead that at first I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. But then she said my name and hugged me, and I knew it was her.”

“I can’t begin to imagine what that must have been like.” But she could, in a way, and she had her sister to thank for that. “Happy she was alive, but at the same time…”

“Pissed as fuck that the bitch saved herself while leaving me in a living hell to fend for myself. Yeah.” His face hardened even as he gave her another squeeze. “It took time, but I got over that betrayal, kitten. I survived. Better yet, that betrayal made me stronger, because it made me value the intangible gifts that are trust and loyalty all the more. And like I once told you, it made me kick all the shit that happened in the past to the curb. Nothing matters but living in the here and now, and not give two fucks about anything else.”

Pari’s jaw clenched as her sister’s voice whispered through the cracks in the vault she’d locked it in, along with the sound of her laughter. All I want is for Pari to help, okay? The only reason I let you do this is because she wouldn’t help me.

Her jaw tightened until her temples ached.

The only reason…

Maybe, in time, she could forgive what Vana had said. But Vana’s laughter…

I let you do this…

That was unforgivable.

“It could be that my definitions of trust and loyalty aren’t the same as the rest of the world’s,” she said, her voice as dark as she suddenly felt. “That might be why they don’t work for me.”

“Fuck that, Pari. You know what doesn’t work? People who betray trust and loyalty. It has nothing to do with your definition. The problem isn’t you. It’s them. I’ve come to see that, and someday you will too. One day you’ll learn to leave the past behind, and you’ll stop looking for any promises in the future. That’s when you’ll see what it is to live in the moment. When it comes to avoiding the shit that can weigh you down and bury you, enjoying yourself in the here and now is the only way to go.”

One day you’ll learn to leave the past behind, and you’ll stop looking for any promises in the future.

Hours later, Max’s words buzzed in Pari’s head like angry bees as she found herself in a gathering crowd inside the open spaces of House Of Payne’s lower level. Hanging from the black ceiling that soared two stories above her head were six panels currently covered in shrouds. Those panels, Max had told her, were the magazine special-edition covers that would be unveiled as soon as the party officially started.

To her eyes it looked like the party had already begun. Members of the press had already gathered, along with several dozen other people who ranged from curious clients who were there to get tattooed, to a smattering of celebrities. Earlier she’d spied a Cubbies baseball player her father would have tackle-hugged without shame. Next to him she thought she recognized a local fashion designer that had been signed exclusively by House Of Payne, and revered by her mother and sister as “the best thing in fashion” the state of Illinois had ever produced.

It was strange, really. Though her family had never been to this rarified and star-studded corner of Chicago, everywhere she looked she saw painful glimpses of them. Her mother. Her father. Even Vana.

All gone.

Well, maybe not Vana.

Then again, for all she knew Vana was dead by now.

Not that she cared.

Or so she told herself.

One day you’ll learn to leave the past behind, and you’ll stop looking for any promises in the future.

The future.

Ha.

When she’d severed herself from her life in Waukegan last fall, her brain hadn’t gone any farther down the road than the next hour. It was as if that part of her—the part that chased dreams and set goals—had died. Maybe it was because she’d lost too much. Or maybe it was because after her sister had betrayed her, it dawned on her that nothing, not even the future, could be counted on.

She was on her own, and relying on anyone to be there tomorrow, or next week, or next year, was stupid.

But did she still feel that way?

You’ll stop looking for any promises in the future.

She wasn’t looking for promises. There were no freaking promises that could guarantee there was even going to be a future.

But…

Loyalty was something she wanted to believe in.

Loyalty, and love.

Of course, those two intangibles hadn’t gotten her anywhere with her own flesh and blood. Once her sister had turned on her, Pari had been left with no other choice but to do the same.

She could have just left without saying anything, a small voice that felt suspiciously like guilt sounded from the deepest core of her heart. Disappeared from Waukegan without a word. But she hadn’t. She’d struck back at Vana in a way that would have no doubt devastated their parents. Maybe they would have understood it, but forgiving Pari for her lack of loyalty… that would have been tough.

“This is a good one. What do you think?”

Pari started at the faintly accented masculine voice close to her ear, and she turned to look up into the face of the most perfectly sculpted human being she’d ever laid eyes on. The black hair, killer cheekbones and pale blue eyes were more than enough, but then he smiled, and it was a smile that could slay dragons at ten paces. In that moment, Pari had no doubt she would have fallen at his feet if she hadn’t already had Max filling every corner of her mind.

“I’m sorry?”

“This picture. Forgive me, but when I saw you standing in the sunlight coming in through the window, the composition and subject were both so eye-catching there was no way I could resist capturing the moment.”

At first confused, she slowly came to the realization that the man was holding a digital camera out for her to see, screen up. “Oh.” To her surprise, she found herself looking at an image of herself, with golden sun slashing over her, the soft rays creating a violet halo around her downbent head, emphasizing the ethereal look of her wispy eggplant-colored dress. She was in two-thirds profile, and clearly in a world of her own. Considering the expression he’d captured, that world was a pensive—if not downright sad—place to be. “Wow, you’re right. I usually look like a mouth-breather whenever I have my picture taken. You must have a real gift if you can make someone like me look halfway decent.”

“Someone like you?” Casually, as if he was more comfortable behind the camera than anywhere else, he put it up to his face and took another picture before she could react. “What does this mean, someone like you?”

“Oh, um…boring, I guess. Nerdy.”

“It’s impossible to be boring and nerdy when you choose to have purple hair.”

“You’d be surprised.” That had been her major claim to fame while growing up—the nerdy one. That was why she couldn’t help but smile as she nodded at the camera. “But somehow you managed to catch me when I didn’t look like I should be buried in books.”

“Or perhaps this is how you really are, and being nerdy is just one facet to the overall gem. Ivar Fournier,” he said, holding out his hand. “You are Pari, yes? My wife Scout spoke quite highly of you,” he went on, shrugging an expressive shoulder while her jaw all but hit the floor. “It takes quite a lot to impress my Scout, yet you managed to do it in a single night by saving a woman’s life.”

“Oh no, that’s an exaggeration. It was no big deal.”

“As my Scout is hardly one for exaggeration, I suspect it was a very big deal to the woman who needed help. Of everyone there, you were the one who knew exactly what to do.”

Honestly, she could listen to this man talk in his accented voice all freaking day. “All part of being a nerd, I guess. I know a little bit about a lot of things. For instance, I slay at trivia games. My noggin is stuffed full of trivial gunk.”

“Listen to you.” He shook his head before putting the camera up once more to his face. “Gunk. Nerd. Boring. It never fails to amaze me how wrong people are when it comes to seeing their true selves.” The shutter clicked several times as he spoke, and to her surprise—and holy crud, awkwardness—he started moving around her as if she were some kind of model. “Though to be honest, the people I view through my lens are usually the opposite of you. They tend to see themselves as being far more beautiful than they actually are.” He lifted his head to stare at her as if she were an interesting sculpture. “I wonder what it is that makes you harshly judge the woman I see through my lens.”

Without warning, the image of her sister flashed through her mind. “I guess I just don’t have any illusions about myself.”

“Oh, but you do. They’re just not good ones.” Then he shrugged and ducked back behind his camera. “Then again, almost every model I have been commissioned to photograph could have done with a solid dose of your pragmatism, so maybe I should be happy I came across you.”

“Wait, are you an actual photographer? You look more like a model than a photographer. And I’m saying this knowing you’re a happily married man, so I swear I’m not hitting on you or being creepy,” she added in a horrified rush. Just when she thought she couldn’t get more awkward, she blurted embarrassing things out like how physically gorgeous he was.

Lovely.

His grin was so wide the camera couldn’t hide it. “I used to model, but being on this side of the camera is infinitely more satisfying. And when I get hired to do challenging photo shoots like those magazine covers—” he straightened to gesture carelessly up toward the six shrouded panels, “—I confess I love my job all the more.”

Again she had to keep her jaw from making contact with the floor. “You were the photographer who did the magazine covers?”

He nodded. “I will be very curious to hear your opinion of Max’s cover.”

“My opinion? Why?”

“He is a complex man, Max,” he said, frowning thoughtfully up at the veiled panels before returning his attention to her. “With the exception of Tag—because as the infamous graffiti artist Tagger, he refuses to publicly show his face—the rest were fairly easy to nail down when it came to capturing their true selves. Who they are is close to the surface and right out there for the world to see. But when it was time for Max’s photo shoot I spent an entire day on him in my studio. I still have reservations about whether or not I truly captured the essence of who Max Kulagin is.”

“If you were able to get Max to stay in one place for an hour, much less a day, you must be good.”

“Convincing him to stay was only one of the many challenges I had with him,” came the wry response. “But your observation just proves my point that your opinion of Max’s cover is an important one. You know him.”

“In the grand scheme of things, we haven’t known each other that long.”

“When it comes to a man and a woman, time can be irrelevant. What is relevant, at least in your case, is that like attracts like.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning a man as multi-faceted as Max would be bored with anyone who did not match his complexity. This must be why he chooses to have you by his side.”

The guy sure knew how to give weirdly convoluted compliments. “I wouldn’t say I’m by his side. Since we just started dating, it wouldn’t surprise me if you knew Max better than I do.”

He tilted his head, his expression dubious. “Nevertheless, I feel you will know if I have captured Max’s true self. Like him, you also have many facets that hide a secret face.”

He couldn’t have shocked her more if he had expressed his belief that she was an alien from outer space. “Sorry, but I don’t think I—”

“Let me explain.” Again he showed her the camera’s digital screen and flipped quickly through the photos he’d just taken of her. While she was surprised she didn’t look like the socially awkward penguin that she felt she was, there was a definite spark missing. No doubt about it, though. The guy knew how to take an awesome shot. “You see the difference from the first photo? In that one, you had no thought of hiding your true face since you had no clue you were being observed. Your true face was revealed—haunted. Alone. Fragile outwardly, but only because you are strong enough on the inside to have made it to where you are now. Compare that with all these other shots. You see? Aloof. Polite but distant. Self-deprecating. Guarded. This is a different face. Your public face.”

When confronted with evidence like that, it was hard to deny it. “Don’t most people have a public face?”

“Not like you.”

Great. So now she was a freak. “Um…”

“Max is the same way. It is almost impossible to get a glimpse beyond his public face. But I can see parts of who he really is through my lens. I see someone filled with sharp edges and jagged dangers. And, it must be said, a terrible darkness.”

“You’re wrong.” It came out so fast she didn’t even have time to consciously form the words. “There’s so much more to Max than what you see.”

“But that darkness,” he went on as though she hadn’t interrupted him, “is balanced with a firsthand understanding of pain that is visible. That understanding made a deep well of compassion in him, and it shows in his art. We should all thank God for that, because this is probably what keeps him from being a hell of a nihilistic wrecking ball.”

At that, she had to agree. No nihilist would think about calling a taxi for her, or creating snow art, or buying her a coat because she might be cold. Those were the actions of a man who had the hope that he could make his corner of the world a better place.

After all he’d been through, the fact that he could still hope for anything made him beautiful in her eyes.

“I was able to see that much in him, but I am not convinced he showed all of who he was during our session. He would with you,” Ivar added, and his eyes lit up as if warming to a sudden idea. “I would like to do a photo shoot with you and Max. I did the same thing with Twist and Angel—they are a married couple here at House Of Payne,” he added when she looked at him blankly. “They share a magazine cover, and it is one of my favorites. Very real, very them. I believe a photo of you and Max together could top even that. It could be extraordinary.”

“You have to be kidding,” she said faintly, staring at him. “Forgive me for not knowing who you are, but I’m guessing you’re some sort of super-famous, big-shot photographer, yes? I mean, you must be. You were just commissioned to do six special edition covers for GQ, which is an internationally famous magazine, right?”

Again he shrugged, like it was nothing. “So?”

“So, I’m a waitress. Maybe your wife didn’t mention that? Waitresses don’t have photo shoots with super-famous, big-shot photographers.”

“Inspiration is found everywhere. You, standing in sunlight with shadows in your eyes, are the definition of inspiration. Who cares what you do for a living? What you do for a living is not the contradictory person you actually are.”

Good grief, now she was contradictory and had shadows in her eyes.

Weirdly convoluted compliments, indeed.

Before she could come up with an adequate reply, a warm hand landed on the bareness between her shoulder blades and a low voice rumbled near her ear. “I hope you behaved yourself while I was in the prep meeting, kitten.”

“Max.” She turned to look over her shoulder at him while he wrapped one arm firmly around her middle and the other strapped across her chest. In less than a second she was secured to his front and not moving an inch unless he wanted her to. “I always behave.”

“Not all the time. But that’s okay. I like it when you misbehave when you’re with me.” His beard tickled her neck a scant moment before he kissed her there, and the possessiveness of it, as well as the proprietary claiming of his hold, didn’t escape her.

Hm.

Unless she was very wrong, Max wasn’t a fan of her talking with another man without him around to enforce his territorial rights.

“There.” The camera shutter sounded again while Ivar did what he did best. “Max, turn her into the sunlight. Also, we need to do another shoot, this time with you and Pari together. Talk her into it.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Sounding pained, Max lifted his head to offer Ivar a mournful look. “Are you ever without a camera?”

“Are you ever without your art?” came the unfazed reply before he turned to welcome his very pregnant wife, Scout with an arm around her shoulders and a smile Pari was sure made Scout’s toes curl. “There you are, ma fleur. Are we ready to get this show on the road?”

“I think so. Payne’s going to do his announcement deal, and then he’ll introduce you in all your epic awesomeness. After that, everyone stands under their corresponding covers, which go alphabetical from left to right. There’s a countdown, and the panels are unveiled simultaneously. Then the mingling begins, which I’m going to force you to do because I have to do it as well, and in my delicate condition I can’t make it go easier with the help of an alcoholic beverage.”

Ivar did a bang-up job of offering a martyred sigh. “I will behave on the condition that you help me talk Max and Pari into becoming subjects for an idea I have for an exhibit—the public versus private face.”

“No,” Max said at once. “You get behind a camera and you turn into a tyrant.”

“He’s always a tyrant.” Smiling, Scout gave her husband a squeeze. “It’s part of his charm.”

“This is what I mean.” After returning Scout’s squeeze with a smiling kiss, Ivar turned the camera to once again show Max the photo he’d taken of Pari while she had been unaware of him. “Look at that. You see? The sorrow, the strength, the fragility. There is so much hidden there, so much complexity that it demands to be discovered. You match this woman with an almost brutal symmetry, so both of you must come to my studio. Ma fleur, you can talk them into it, yes?”

“I’ll give it a shot, Trouble, but I think I’d have a better chance at shaving a colony of feral cats with a Daisy razor.” Then she perked up while Max latched onto the camera for a closer look. “All right, guys, there’s Payne and he’s got a microphone in hand. That’s your cue.”

“Have fun, Max. I’m so proud of you.” Pari went on tiptoe to kiss Max’s cheek, then stepped out of the way as Scout hustled Ivar toward the space where the media had their pool of cameras. Max hesitated, staring at her long and hard before he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward his assigned panel.

Oh, he wouldn’t…

“You’re with me,” he announced even as she tried to put on the brakes. He ignored her resistance by powering through it, then turned them to face the sea of reporters. As the flashes of the cameras began, he clamped her firmly to his side. “If I’m living the dream, I’m going to be doing it with you by my side. Otherwise it’s not a dream worth giving a shit about.”

Moonlight filtered weakly through the bedroom windows. Warm and satisfied in every cell of his body, Max let his heavy eyes shut.

“Who is Hendricks?”

Drifting from the edge of sleep he stirred, opened his eyes and looked at Pari. He didn’t have to look far. After experimenting with several positions and discovering that each one was better than the last, they had finally exhausted themselves with only an hour or two before sunrise. Pari, though, still seemed to have some energy left in the tank.

Beautiful.

She was lying almost completely on top of him. Her head rested on his chest and her hand slowly traced the image of the Statue of Liberty and the Soldier’s Cross on his arm. It was something she liked to do, he’d noticed—trace his ink with her fingertips as if trying to memorize every inch of him.

Damned if it wasn’t one of the most intimate things he’d ever experienced.

“Michael Hendricks was a guy I met at my very first tattoo competition in Munich. Total enthusiast of body art and not too bad of an artist himself. I was only twenty when I met him and hadn’t yet seen much of the world, but he had. He was only a couple years older than me, but already Michael had seen places like South Korea, Hawaii, Kuwait, London, and all over the US. Military brat,” he explained with a shrug. “Graduated West Point, like his father before him. I was Russian, but even I had heard of West Point, so I was impressed.”

“Sounds like a cool guy.”

“He was.” He ran an absent hand through her hair as he looked back into the past. “Back then, the US Army didn’t allow tattoos to show, but Michael still had a few. He wanted one of my designs, but since my work visa was about to expire I couldn’t get it done. When I joked that I’d be happy to give him tattoos for free for the rest of his life if he could get me to the States, he took me seriously.”

“Wow.” She repositioned herself so that she looked straight into his face, her chin propped up on a hand that lay flat on his chest. “He’s the one who got you here?”

“He and his dad worked it out. They sponsored me, walked me through the paperwork and even pulled some strings so that my path to citizenship was fast-tracked. It helped that Payne had discovered my art and had not just a job waiting for me, but he also covered my moving expenses as well. Michael’s tattoo was the first one I ever did at House Of Payne. Or, I should say, he was my first session. I never got the chance to finish Michael’s tattoo.”

Her free hand carefully cupped over the Soldier’s Cross. “Your friend is no longer with us?”

Gentle Pari. She was so sweet, so caring, she couldn’t even force herself to say painful words. “He was killed in combat somewhere in Afghanistan. His father came in to tell me about it, and then asked if he could get the tattoo Michael had been in the process of getting. That’s the only time I can remember having trouble slinging ink. There were times when I could barely see what I was doing. I hadn’t cried one fucking tear since my mother left, but that day…it was tough, I’m not going to lie. So was the day that I finished it. Doing that final session to complete Michael’s tattoo was when I really said goodbye to the man who’d changed my life just by being my friend.”

A sad sound escaped her before she leaned over to the Soldier’s Cross and kissed the helmet bearing the name Hendricks. “Thank you, Michael.”

Something twisted deep in his chest at the heartfelt homage she paid to a man she never knew. Tightening his arms around her, he rolled so that their positions were reversed, and his weight settled onto her as if they were two puzzle pieces fitting together.

“What about you?” He looked down into her face, pale as milk against the darkness of the pillows, and he couldn’t help but smile at the simple beauty of her. “What brought you from the dangerous streets of Waukegan to the shining city of Chicago?”

It could have been a trick of the moon-washed light, but he could have sworn her eyes dimmed. “You’d be surprised by the dangers of Waukegan’s streets.”

He waited for her to offer up something more. When she didn’t, he raised a brow. “So is that what brought you to Chicago? The dangers?”

“What brings anyone to a big city? I needed a complete change after my parents died. My life as I’d known it had died with them. One day I realized there was nothing for me there. Believe me, I was happy to leave.”

He touched her cheek. “Do you ever miss it?”

“No.” It was said so unhesitatingly he had no choice but to believe her. “That chapter in my life is closed, and I have zero interest in a re-read. My life is in Chicago now, and I love this city. My focus is on what’s in front of me, not on who I left behind.”

“Who you left behind?”

“Who, and what. When you leave your old life behind, it’s all the same.”

“Not always, kitten.” He bent his head to touch his mouth with hers, then pulled away just far enough to search her eyes through the darkness. “Remember who you’re talking to, yeah? I’m the guy who left not just a life but a whole country behind. I did it so I could have a fresh start, a clean start. I needed that after the hell I went through just to get from one day to the next, trying to survive. No one knows better than me what it’s like to leave your whole world behind and not have a single fucking regret about it. The way I see it, when a person has no regrets on that score, it’s because they know that whatever they left behind was shit. Sound about right?”

“Yeah.” It was barely a whisper. “That pretty much sums up my life in Waukegan. It became a whole lot of bad that tried to bury me. But I flipped that script and I buried it instead. Then I walked away, because I was just…done.”

“So it wasn’t entirely the death of your parents that made you leave.”

“It was what got the ball rolling. Not that it matters,” she added when he opened his mouth. “None of this matters anymore, Max. Not to me, anyway, so it shouldn’t matter to you.”

“Yeah, well, that’s where you’re wrong, kitten. It does matter to me because you matter to me.”

He felt more than heard her breath catch. “Really?”

“You need to start paying attention, woman.” Torn between sighing and laughing, he decided life would be better if he just kissed her instead. Once he’d satisfied that need, he backed far enough away to smile at her. “I’m all about paying attention to you. I’ve been paying attention from the moment that fine ass of yours bounced its way past me while you were rushing around the Mad Cow. That’s how I know a part of you is still being chewed up by whatever hurt you so much you had to come to Chicago to get away from it.”

In the moonlit dimness, her already-ivory skin turned downright ghostly. “What?”

“I saw it in Ivar’s photo.” And he would get that photo from Scout’s husband and frame it for the art it was. Before he’d left the House to pick Pari up from work, he’d warned Scout that he would make her life miserable until Ivar sold him that print. “The moment I saw your expression, I recognized it for what it was. I’m not asking you to share everything that this meat grinder of a world has put you through,” he added when he caught the glitter of wetness in her eyes. “I get there are some things that happen that are so painful, so raw, it’s hard to find the words to even talk that shit out. But someday you’re going to find those words, kitten. And when you do, when you’re ready to talk, you need to know straight up that I’ll drop whatever it is I’m doing no matter what time of day or night it is, and I’ll just… listen.”

The slide of a tear from the corner of her eye was almost invisible in the semi-dark. “That life and everything in it is dead. That’s all you need to know, my Max.”

My Max.

The words rang through him in a jolt that hit him square in his chest, and the impact was so hard it stole his breath. “When you’re ready,” he repeated, lowering his mouth to brush hers. “Until then, I’ll crush whatever this world tries to throw at you, so you rest easy, yeah? Whatever shit is out there, it’ll have to get through me to get to you. And I can promise you now, nothing’s getting through me.”

Juggling her cloth shopping bags, Pari managed to unzip her coat before she roasted to death, then pushed through the squeaky front gate of her apartment complex. For the first time since the snows started falling in November, winter was at last relinquishing its death grip. The brilliance of the midmorning sun glared down from a cloudless sky, and the snow was melting so fast from the trees and buildings it sounded like it was raining.

Just as she’d almost forgotten what the world was like when it wasn’t covered in ice and snow, the first breath of spring had finally blown life back into the world.

About darned time, she thought, struggling to get her door key out. When Max had dropped her off earlier, he’d mentioned taking her out for a spin on his Harley once it warmed up. Just the thought made her smile. Of course, the thought of being snuggled up against Max’s strong back as they zoomed around the city on his bike would be enough to make any woman smile. But she wasn’t just any woman.

She was Max’s woman.

It was a wonder her face didn’t split with all the smiles that thought gave her.

“Hey, neighbor.”

Startled, Pari looked up from the task of opening her front door to find Meilin stepping out into their shared alcove. “Hey yourself. Getting out to enjoy all this gorgeous sunshine?”

“More like I’m looking for an excuse to avoid the mountains of laundry I promised I’d get done on my day off while the kids are at school. Let me help you,” she added quickly, stepping forward to relieve Pari of a grocery bag. “We’re lucky to have a market that’s only a couple blocks away, yeah? I just wish they had fresher produce.”

“Back in Waukegan I had a little kitchen garden, as did my parents at their house. Believe me, it helps to while away the long winter months planning what you’re going to plant in the garden once spring rolls around.” An unexpected pang of homesickness hit hard as she led the way into her tiny apartment. It was dim, thanks to the small, northeast-facing windows and blank, beige walls that seemed to suck up whatever brightness there was, so she snapped lights on as she made her way to the miniscule kitchenette. “I think I’m going to miss puttering around in the garden now that I’m in the city. Would it be weird if I suddenly started digging in the dirt along the front walk?”

“I don’t think anyone would mind, but good luck in actually growing anything out there. I’ve lived in this complex for two years and believe me, not even weeds grow around here. And if they did, my kids and all the other kids in this apartment block would just trample them out of existence.”

“Maybe I could put together a window box for herbs,” Pari mused, indicating to Meilin to place the groceries wherever she wanted on the kitchenette’s counters. “My bedroom gets a lot of sun through the back window. I’ve actually thought about making the front room my bedroom and the back room the living room.”

“That’s what I did. Who gives a damn that the moment you open my front door you have to step around a double bed and a clothes rack? It’s not like I do a ton of entertaining. You, on the other hand,” Meilin went on, handing Pari a cellophane-wrapped package of celery, “probably do way more entertaining than me, considering you’re a sort-of famous TV star.”

Pari nearly dropped the celery. “What? I’m a waitress, not a TV star.”

“Yeah, but since when does a waitress wind up smiling for the cameras with her hot boyfriend, and getting her face plastered all over the news?”

“Oh, that.” Pari felt her cheeks heat with a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. She still hadn’t gotten over how generous Max had been to share his well-deserved moment of success with her. Throughout the magazine cover reveal and subsequent interviews he and the other House Of Payne tattooists gave a few days ago, Max had insisted she stay with him. He’d even gone so far as to clamp her to his side as if he had zero intention of ever letting her go. Her embarrassment had faded under a wave of joy that her man wanted her with him in his moment of triumph.

Her man.

She had to laugh at how possessive she’d become. When she’d looked up at the revealed magazine cover—Ivar had done a spectacular job in capturing Max’s daring attitude with a waist-high, shirtless shot, bearded chin up to show his neck tattoos, his icy blue eyes locked onto the camera and somehow challenging the world to come and get him—she’d been shocked at how possessive she felt. That was her man people would be looking at. Feminine eyes the world over would soon be studying his image, some curious and others covetous. But they couldn’t have him.

Max was hers.

Once that fact took root in her head, she’d been more than happy to stay glued to his side.

“Oh, that, she says.” On a half-laugh, Meilin took a box of cereal from the bag, glanced around the kitchenette and dutifully slid the box next to its nearly empty twin on a shelf by the two-seater white laminate dining table. “I promise you, if I’d been in your shoes, I’d have been on the phone to every single person I knew to tell them I was going to be on all the local TV stations with my uber-hot boyfriend.”

“Entertainment News and The Buzz were also there to get the first glimpse of the magazine covers,” Pari couldn’t help but blurt out proudly. “Did you see Max’s cover?”

“Did I see?” Meilin rolled her eyes and let out an honest-to-goodness squeal. “I’m still recovering from my hot flash.”

“I know, right? Those eyes of his. Honestly, I get shivers. He could blast a woman right off her feet without even trying.”

“And no one knows that better than you,” Meilin giggled, and it sounded downright naughty. “Oh, before I forget, I have to tell you something hilarious. My son Bruno is now obsessed with being like Max.”

“Really? That’s awesome.”

“Awesome from your point of view, but not so much from mine. That silly boy got into his sister’s box of magic markers and drew all over his body. Even his butt. Don’t ask me how he managed to do that, because that’s one mystery I still haven’t solved.”

Pari burst out laughing. “That must have been some sight.”

“That’s putting it mildly. My little tattooist-in-the-making looked like he’d been dipped in a rainbow. I still haven’t gotten it all off of him.”

“Max would be oddly proud to hear that.”

“My boy is going to be the next generation of tattoo artists at House Of Payne, so I have no doubt he’s going to look like a walking art experiment for the foreseeable future. I just hope I don’t one day wake up to find he’s discovered that it’s just as much fun to draw on mommy’s face as it is his own.”

“Holy crud.” Pari’s eyes widened as she tucked a bag of rice into the pantry. “Just in case, you might want to think about locking up the markers someplace safe before you all go to bed tonight.”

Meilin laughed. “Way ahead of you.”

“Thank goodness.”

“Just do me a favor. If you happen to have any ink yourself, don’t show it to Bruno. Or Xia, for that matter. While Bruno wants to be a tattooist, my little urban princess has decided she’s going to be the first elementary school-aged kid to get a tattoo. She doesn’t think it’s fair that you have to be eighteen before you can get any ink in this city, so she told me she’s going to hit Max up for a tattoo the next time she sees him.”

“Oh, my God.” Not even bothering to stifle a laugh, Pari folded up the now-empty shopping bags and stowed them under the sink before heading to the coffeemaker. “I would say I’m sorry about that, but I’m not going to lie—that’s just about the cutest thing I’ve heard all week. And for what it’s worth, I don’t have any ink. At least, not at the moment. Want some coffee?”

“Sounds great, thanks.” Meilin sent her a bright smile, then made herself at home by plucking a couple mugs from hooks under the cabinets and set them on the table. “So, no ink at the moment means you’re thinking about getting some, right? I know I’ve got my eye on a koi fish tattoo from a seriously talented master tattooist in Chinatown, but he’s picky—won’t take just anyone who walks in off the street. You have to have the feel, whatever that means. I’ve been bugging him for a month to take me on, but so far no dice. What about you? What kind of ink do you want?”

“I don’t know if want is the right word.” Pouring the water into the machine, she hit the button before turning to lean back against the counter. “When a person chooses to get a tattoo, I don’t think it has anything to do with just wanting one, you know? It becomes a permanent part of you, so whatever image a person decides on, it should have a meaning that’s already deeply rooted inside your heart, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know, I just want something pretty. Spoons?”

Pari opened a drawer, snagged up a couple spoons and handed them over. “I guess it’s different for every person who gets a tattoo. For instance, Max has this memorial tattoo that’s about a friend who died, and it’s made me think about getting something like that to commemorate my parents.”

Meilin’s eyes filled with compassion. “Oh, girl. They’re dead?”

“They were killed last April, and since I’m coming up fast on that one-year anniversary I want to do something special, but I don’t want it to be sad and weepy. I kind of like the idea of getting something that celebrated the fact that they were alive, which is something I think they’d approve of. Memorializing your parents in a tattoo isn’t too much of a downer, is it?”

“I think that’s beautiful. My parents, God love them, are still alive and kicking my butt, even though I’m a mother of two. I think they’re disappointed I haven’t found myself the kind of man that gets me on TV, unlike someone I know.”

“Good grief.” Pari shook her head as she grabbed up the freshly brewed pot of coffee and headed for the table. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”

“Are you kidding? Living vicariously through you is the closest I’m going to get to being on TV. And to having a man who’s insanely in love with me, now that I think about it.”

Pari nearly spilled coffee all over the table. “Whoa, Max isn’t in love with me, Meilin. We’re not like that.”

“What do you mean, you’re not like that? From what I was pretending to not overhear, that man is seriously into you.”

“We’re seriously into each other, but…” You’ll stop looking for any promises in the future. Impatiently she shook her head to dispel the words that had been haunting her every waking moment. “We’re just enjoying each other’s company…and various other things.”

“Girl is definitely getting herself some,” Meilin grinned.

“But that’s as far as it goes. There’s been no talk about the future, or getting serious about being together. And he certainly hasn’t said anything about love.”

Meilin stared at her. “Did you seriously just say that? What kind of man ever actually says I love you, especially a guy like Max?”

“Um…” In all honesty, she hadn’t thought about it that way.

“The way I see it, a man who’s so obviously a man probably doesn’t even think in terms of how well he communicates the feels. He’s too busy making sure his actions speak louder than any words he could ever say, so it’s high time you listen to what his actions have been screaming at you. That man is in love with you, and there’s nothing you can ever do or say that’s going to change that.”

“And, she’s back, Mad Cow’s super-famous waitress, ready to face another fun-filled day in her glamorous profession of choice.”

Pari rolled her eyes at Bosko’s spatula-wielding pronouncement that he’d yelled through the pass-through, and headed back into the kitchen. “Yeah, glamorous. That’s definitely the word that pops into my head while you’re standing next to the grease traps.”

“I can’t help my enthusiasm,” came the cheerful reply. “You’re the first Mad Cow employee that’s gotten on TV without bringing code violations into the mix, so I’ve decided to milk this thing for as long as possible. What do you say to signing autographs for anyone who walks through the door? Doesn’t even have to be your real name—Arm Candy will do.”

She sighed. Bosko had been like this all week, and she was ready to draw blood. “That’d be great, except for a couple of salient points. One, I’m not arm candy. And two, I’m sure there are about a gazillion people who didn’t see the news.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that, babe.” Edie came out from the employees’ area, busily pulling her hair into a tight ponytail. “Every local news channel was across the street at House Of Payne doing their thing. Their satellite trucks were everywhere.”

“Forget the locals, I saw you on Access Hollywood.” Bosko turned his attention back to the mound of fragrant onions he was grilling. “By the way, I feel the need to point out that I’m not ashamed to admit I watch shows like Access Hollywood. I’m comfortable enough in my masculinity that I can share these private aspects of myself with you.”

Edie chuckled, still messing with her hair. “It’s not exactly a secret that you’re a geek, Bosko. My guess is you were waiting to hear what great new Star Wars video game is about to be released and who was cast as the voice actors.”

“Surprisingly good guess, but I was actually waiting for the announcement of where the next European Comic-Con was going to be held and suddenly, boom! There was Pari, smiling and hanging all over that Viking from across the street.”

Pari sighed. “At least get the geography right. He’s not a Viking. He’s Russian.”

“Yeah, but he looks like the head Viking on that show with all the other Vikings that look like him, know what I mean? What’s the name of that weird Vikings show?”

“Vikings.”

“No, not that one, the other one.” Then Bosko shrugged. “Anyway, given half a chance I bet that guy you were hanging on could pillage with the best of ‘em.”

Oy. “You make it sound like I was climbing him like a set of monkey bars. For the record, I wasn’t hanging on Max.”

“I’ll second that,” Edie confirmed, raising a hand. “If anything, that man was hanging onto you as if you were a life preserver and he was scared he was going to drown. And I swear I saw his hand on your ass more than once.”

All at once Pari recalled how Max’s hand kept dipping down to squeeze her butt cheek and whispering in her ear how hard he was, knowing she was standing there naked under the filmy veil of her dress. The moment he’d gotten her home he’d taken her hard, insisting she keep her dress on while he bent her over the back of the couch with her bottom up and legs spread in a wide stance. “Well, uh…hm. Anyway, it was a very important day for Max, one he’s worked his whole life to earn. I’m so totally in awe of what he does. I can’t even draw an evenly shaped heart.”

Edie smirked. “I think Max is totally in awe of your butt.”

“If I showed you some of my drawings you’d be pretty impressed too, you know.” Bosko neatly flipped a line of burgers, swirled the onions around and slapped a bunch of hamburger buns flat-side down onto the grill. “I drew this one epic picture of Link from the original Zelda game—which by the way, remains as one of my top five favorite video games of all time. That drawing’s probably the best I’ve ever done. It could be a tattoo.”

“You should get it done over at House Of Payne,” Edie said, heading back into the makeshift locker room to finish getting ready. “All the cool guys get their ink done there, you know.”

“Don’t be surprised if I show up one day with badass Link on my forearm,” he called after her.

“I think they do accept their clients’ personal artwork on a case-by-case basis,” Pari said after following Edie into the employees’ area. She stuffed her coat into her locker, then sat down to exchange her snow boots for work shoes. “In fact, I’m surprised Bosko doesn’t have more tattoos on him. Wolverine, Batman and anything mecha are huge sellers over there. Bosko loves all that stuff.”

Edie snorted. “Bosko might talk a big game, but don’t let him fool you. There’s a reason he doesn’t already have an entire suit of geek ink. He hates pain.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“No, I mean he hates it. Like, he turns into a baby and openly bawls his head off, tears and everything. There was that one time he dropped a gallon can of peaches on his foot and walked for six months with a cane. Granted, it was a replica of the Kingpin’s pimp cane with a big fake diamond on the top, but he limped while he used it. Then there was the time he burned his fingers. We had to shut down for two days because he couldn’t hold onto a spatula.”

“Yikes.” Pari’s sound of sympathy turned into a chuckle. As much as she wanted to strangle him at times, Bosko and his idiosyncrasies were downright adorable. “I’ve been thinking about getting a small tattoo. I wonder how much it hurts.”

“I know a certain bearded non-Viking you could ask.” With a laugh, Edie joined her on the bench and nudged her shoulder with hers. “Of all the people I know, you’d be the last person I’d think who’d get a tat. You’re so quiet and demure.”

Little did Edie know she was sitting next to someone who had given up panties and adored waking Max with her ever-increasing oral skills. “You might say that having Max in my life has broadened my horizons in a big way. Better yet, I’m loving those horizons that I’m discovering. Does Ramon do that for you?”

Edie snorted. “Babe, Ramon invests more time and attention in his truck than he does me. Does that answer your question?”

“Maybe I’m the weird one.” With a shrug, a corner of Pari’s mouth curled. “I just feel like I know my true self better than I ever have, and it’s all because of Max. I finally have the freedom to be who I really am, and he doesn’t judge me for anything I do or want or say, even when it’s totally off the wall. He encourages me to be me.”

“Oh, wow.” Edie pressed a hand to her heart. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt that with anyone, and I sure as hell don’t feel it with Ramon. So do me a favor and hang on to that with everything you’ve got, okay? It’s a lucky woman who can find a man that lets her be whatever the hell she was meant to be. I can only imagine what that’s like, to feel safe enough to open up and show a man what’s hiding inside.”

For a fleeting moment Pari thought of her past before she pushed it away. She wasn’t hiding that life from Max; it was dead and gone, and it had nothing to do with who she was now. “That’s it exactly. I feel safe. I never knew people could fit together as well as Max and I do. And I’m not talking about the sex part and the actual fitting together,” she added while her face almost sizzled with heat. “Though that’s unbelievably awesome, too. I mean…I get Max, you know? I totally get him. And everything about him that I get, I’m crazy about.”

“Crazy about?” Smiling, Edie nudged her shoulder once more. “Does that mean you’ve fallen for the Viking who’s not a Viking?”

“You know what? I really have.” Pausing in the task of tying her shoe, Pari stared at Edie as that realization dawned on her, and she couldn’t figure out if it was more scary or exhilarating. “I know I’m probably sounding like some lame greeting card commercial, but I swear, Edie, I didn’t know I could feel this way. I’ve certainly never been so open about who I am and what I genuinely want from the man in my life. But I absolutely trust Max to take care of me and accept me for who I am. I just feel that when I’m with Max, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.” She put a hand to her wildly thudding chest. “Does that sound like love?”

“Well, let’s put it to the final test. What do you think about when you first wake up?”

“Max.” And putting his cock in her mouth to wish him a very happy good morning.

“When you go to bed at night, what’s your last thought of the day?”

“Max.” Usually because he was still inside her making her come like a runaway train.

Edie nodded. “Can you imagine yourself with another man? Or him with another woman? Mm-hm,” Edie nodded at Pari’s horrified recoiling. “That’s the ultimate proof right there. Just the thought of it is a nightmare. Face it, babe. You’re head over heels in love with your inked-out non-Viking, and there’s not a thing you can do about it except enjoy the ride.”

“Love.” As breathless as if she’d just been punched in the gut, Pari put a hand to her spinning brow. “I just…I wasn’t expecting anything like this when he walked into the Mad Cow. I think—”

“Don’t think. Or over-think. Love can’t be thought about or reasoned with. It just is, okay? And it’s the best thing in the world.”

Pari was about to say something when Lola showed up in the doorway, untying her apron as she went. When she saw them she came to a dead halt, staring at Pari. “How did you get in here so fast?”

Pari blinked. “Um…sorry?”

“I just saw you go into that tattoo place across the street. Or maybe I should say, your second home now that you’ve hooked up with your oh, so famous tattoo guy.” With an extravagant eye-roll, Lola continued on her way to her locker. “Just so you know, dating a guy who thinks he’s edgy because he has some ink doesn’t make you cool.”

“Yeah, I’m sure Pari’s really worried about that,” Edie snickered, leaving Pari behind to grab up her own apron from her locker. “What does make a person cool, since I’m too old to know these things nowadays?”

“You know what doesn’t make you cool? Forcing your way onto TV. And not hanging all over your BF because you just have to show the world how much you belong in his world, when really you don’t. You know why you don’t belong? Because you’re a nobody like the rest of us.”

Edie slammed her locker door. “Listen, brat—”

“I got this, Edie.” With a sigh, Pari rose from the bench to face Lola. “Okay, Lola. I get that you’re in a generally ticked-off mood—”

“Um, yeah. Watching you make a fool of yourself on TV is the thing that did it, too.”

“That’s not the thing that did it, though it is the thing that’s bringing this all to a head. You’ve been angry pretty much ever since I’ve known you, because you’re in the process of finding out the same thing we all found out at your age—that you are not the center of the universe.”

Lola’s false eyelashes flew wide open. “Excuse me?”

“Whether you know it or not, that’s why you’re in such an awful mood all the time. You’re realizing that you’re not always going to be the much-adored focus of everyone’s attention. You’re not always going to be the star of the show. You’re probably even beginning to suspect that everything you’ve ever dreamed about isn’t going to magically drop into your lap simply because you exist, and therefore you must be entitled to it. Something in you is starting to recognize that you’re not entitled to anything, because you’re not better than anyone.”

Lola angrily crossed her arms. “I never said I was.”

“You didn’t have to. The one absolute truth of the world is a harsh one, Lola, because it’s this—no one cares. It’s a sad and scary fact to face when we’re first out on our own, but there it is. No. One. Cares. My sister couldn’t face that harsh truth when our parents were killed, and in too many ways to count, you are exactly like her.”

“Like I care.”

“You should, because her tale is a cautionary one. If you don’t find a way to pull your head out of your butt, your disillusionment with this whole adulting thing is going to lead you down a road that’s going to turn you into a junkie, or an alcoholic, or even some sad little loser that winds up in prison. So take my advice as my little sister never did, and drop the mean-girl act before your toxic selfishness kicks everyone out of your life forever.”

Lola gasped and pearl-clutched. “Bitch, what’d you say to me?”

Pari ignored her, because this was important. “Here are some options for you to try. Focus on making your corner of the world a better, more pleasant place to be rather than your pissy little kingdom. Smile more. Learn to laugh at yourself. Enjoy the people around you, even if they’re the kind you wouldn’t have been caught dead with in high school. When you start doing that, the people in your world will begin to care about you, I promise. The good will soon outweigh the bad, and eventually you’ll start getting all the nice things that you feel you deserve.”

“Omigod,” Lola said to Edie, “it’s like listening to Mary fucking Poppins.”

“Or,” Pari went on grimly, “you can continue to be a selfish, bitter witch that literally no one can stand. If that happens, you’ll get what you deserve on that end as well. But whatever you decide, understand that it’s all your choice. As of now, you don’t have the right to hate other people because they’ve found happiness. And you certainly don’t have the right to blame anyone for the disappointing world that you’ve chosen to live in. The only person who owns that responsibility is you.”

With a weight that she hadn’t even known was there lifting off her heart—a weight that had her sister’s name on it—Pari left the room to the sound of Edie’s enthusiastic applause.

With the less-than-spectacular start to her shift, Pari didn’t hold out much hope for things getting any better. That opinion did a sharp about-face, however, when a uniformed delivery man pushed his way into the diner carrying a purple vase carrying dozens of long-stemmed purple-tinted roses.

“Hoo, look at all that pretty purple, will ya?” From across the crowded dining area and serving steaming hot plates to a group of what looked to be hospital personnel, Edie looked up and made big eyes at Pari. “It’s a good thing Lola’s shift ended an hour ago. I get the feeling that right there would’ve given her a freaking aneurism.”

“Whoa,” a nearby customer said, while others turned in their seats and craned their necks to get a better look.

“I’ve got a delivery here for…” The delivery man placed the purple vase of flowers on the counter so he could look at the tablet he had tucked under his arm. “A Miss Paradise Simone. Is there a Paradise Simone here?”

“I still think that’s a made-up name,” Bosko offered from the pass-through.

At a table full of little old ladies in Edie’s section, a white-haired woman raised a hand. “Can I have those flowers if I change my name to Paradise Simone?”

“Uh, that’s me, I’m Paradise.” After quickly topping off the coffee mugs at the booth where she was standing, Pari zoomed around the edge of the dining area toward the counter, already smelling the faintest scent of the roses. “Do you need to see some ID?”

“I’m pretty sure you’re the only Paradise Simone currently in the Mad Cow, hon,” Edie offered from her end of the small diner as Pari went about the business of depositing the coffee pot back on its hot plate behind the counter.

“Yeah, kiddo, we’ll vouch for you.” Bosko looked at the flowers and whistled his appreciation before pointing his spatula at Edie. “See? I told you, didn’t I? When men are trying to be romantic, they send flowers.”

“Yeah, yeah. When was the last time you went on a date, Bos?”

“Sometime last decade. And the reason I haven’t gone on one since is because I forgot to send flowers. Word got around that I’m a non-flower-giving jerk, and my social life went down the crapper.”

“That’s what did it? Are you sure it’s not the shrine you made for the one ring that rules them all?”

“Excuse me, but the actual title is the one ring to rule them all, and it’s not a shrine. It’s a tastefully decorated display case.”

“Thank you.” Scrawling a quick signature for the flowers, Pari then grabbed up the vase and headed for the kitchen door. “Bosko, could I please have two minutes to put things away?”

“You can have three, but then I need you back out here, kiddo. Dinner crowd’s just starting and we’re almost full already.”

“I’ll hurry.” Hustling back to the locker area, Pari sat down on the bench and breathed in the lush scent of the roses before hunting carefully through the fresh, violet-tipped blooms. Within moments she found what she was looking for—a small white envelope clipped to a clear plastic holder. With her pulse skyrocketing in anticipation, she plucked it up.

My Paradise,

I won’t be able to come to you tonight, so I need you to come to me.

That is, if you want to come.

I bet you do, kitten. I bet you do.

“Oh, you naughty man,” she breathed, and in the silence of the empty room she had to fan herself before she went up in flames. As a double entendre, that was a beaut Max had come up with, and he was absolutely right. If whatever activity he had in mind involved the two of them, she did want to come, in every possible way.

Now all she had to do was wait three impossibly long hours until she could zip across the street to see what he had in mind.

With a sigh Pari headed back out to the dining area, steeling herself to slog through the longest three hours of her life.

At ten past eight, Pari pushed through the doors at House Of Payne, tugging her coat off as she went. She waved at Scout at the front desk, who was busy doing some kind of seated yoga and looking like she hated every second of it.

“Hey there.” Resting her forearms on the counter, Pari did a lightning-quick assessment of the other woman and tilted her head. “Hm, looks like the baby’s dropped since I last saw you.”

“Tell me about it. My back is killing me, and I’m pissed off that I’m here instead of on maternity leave, which was supposed to start to-fucking-day. But the warm weather’s brought everyone and their dog out to get some ink. That means I’m busy packing everyone’s client schedules instead of putting the finishing touches on an anniversary party for my foster parents this weekend, and resting up for the arrival of my baby girl.” Scout grimaced and awkwardly rubbed at her lower back. “I take it you’re here to see Max?”

“I received a summons, along with the most beautiful flowers that have ever existed on this planet or any other.”

“Wow.”

“Right? I’d show you the card that came with them, but I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”

Scout’s disgruntled scowl faded with a reluctant smile. “If that card came from Max, I can only imagine what it said. He’s free now and will be for another hour or so if you want to go on up. Just remember that while the tattoo booths have walls they don’t have any roofs, so, um…”

Pari’s brows lifted. “Yes?”

“Well, sound has a tendency to… y’know…carry. Just sayin’.”

“Ah. Okay.” Not sure whether to die of mortification or laugh, Pari settled for shaking her head and stepping back from the desk. “By the way, there is such a thing as pregnancy massage, in case you were interested in alleviating some of that tension in your lower back. Also, I’d strongly recommend applying heat packs as well, to increase blood flow to the affected area—no more than thirty minutes at a time, though. If the pain gets to be too much, acetaminophen should take the edge off of it. Avoid aspirin and ibuprofen, since you’re in your third trimester and those meds could cause some circulatory issues you don’t want. Oh, and pay attention to what your body’s telling you, okay? For all you know, what you think is a simple backache could actually be the beginnings of labor.”

“Uh-huh.” It was Scout’s turn to lean on the counter so she could follow Pari’s path with her eyes. “You do know that you’re the most exceedingly knowledgeable waitress I’ve ever met, right?”

“That’s the Mad Cow for you—they’ve got exceptionally high standards over there.” With a wry grin, Pari waved and headed up the stairs, folding her coat over her arm as she went. Helping people was who she was, and despite the massive alterations she’d made to her life in the past year, that wasn’t going to change. There had been a time when she’d believed that the caring part of her had been murdered. Not surprising, considering she’d ceased to care about her future, her life, and all the people around her. None of it had mattered.

Why would it?

Nothing mattered when you were numb.

The woman who’d had an allergic reaction had been a wake-up call. Without Pari even noticing, her numbness had been receding, slowly revealing her heart was still there. But that reawakening of her old self—the person who knew how to laugh and hope and love—had started long before that.

It had started with a sketch of her mouth on a diner’s cheap paper napkin.

The light outside Max’s booth was on when she got there. Confused, and wondering if Scout had been right when she’d said Max wasn’t with a client, she hesitantly knocked on the glass door. Half a second later it swung open to reveal a fiercely grinning Max.

“You’re late.” With that, he pulled her into the booth and shut the door by pushing her up against it, then covered her mouth with his before she could respond. He kissed her long and deep, and without a thought she gave herself over to the hot sensation of his tongue tangling with hers.

Man, he was good at kissing. She’d be inspired to write songs about it if she knew how. When he at last lifted his head, she was genuinely sorry she had studied pharmacology rather than music, and she went up on her tiptoes to see if she couldn’t persuade him to inspire her some more.

“So damn exciting, how you light on fire the moment I touch you.” Through his smile he kissed her again, so deep and sexy it made her toes curl. She answered that heat by toying with his tongue before sucking and biting his lower lip, then toying with his tongue some more. She was just snaking her hands under his House Of Payne T-shirt—this one red with black ink bearing one of his melted designs—when he pulled away once more. “Woman, you’re killing me with that mouth of yours.”

Excellent. “I’m just trying to say thank you for the flowers. And for the invitation to, you know…come.”

His wild smile made a dazzling reappearance. “I knew you’d like that.”

“I cherish how well you know me.”

“I cherish your healthy appetites. So much so that I want to keep you and those appetites safe at all times, even when I’m not with you. So keep that in mind for the next few minutes instead of just blowing your top at me, yeah?”

Uh-oh. That didn’t sound good. “Why do you say that? What’s going to happen in the next few minutes?”

He turned and grabbed a small white glossy bag off the stainless steel counter and handed it to her. “This.”

Baffled, she looked inside. The first thing she saw brought a smile to her lips, and she reached in to pull out a paper napkin she recognized as coming from the Mad Cow. “You know I love your art. And…wow, this one is hot.”

“You like?”

“Like is too tame a word. I think this one might be my favorite.” Lifting it to the light, she drank in the pen and ink sketch of her, lying on some soft and sumptuous surface, naked except for the thigh-high black boots he’d promised to draw her in one day. Between her legs was a masculine downbent head, and the arms that curled around her thighs to spread them open wide were covered in familiar tattoos. Staring at it, her core temperature threatened to turn molten while the intimate flesh between her thighs began to ache. “Someday I’m going to have all your napkin art framed so that it’s given the proper respect it deserves. Only this one will be displayed in my bedroom. No one but you gets to see me like this.”

His hand brushed over her hair. “Only you would think to frame fucking napkins.”

“They’re not napkins, they’re art. And this latest work of art right here,” she added, and her smile felt downright wicked as she offered her mouth up to him, “is more than art. It’s a prediction of what we’ll be doing later on this evening.”

“Count on it.” He took her up on the invitation and kissed her the way every woman should be kissed—deep and wet, and with the sense that kissing her was the greatest privilege a man could earn for himself. When it was done she was weak in the knees and ready for more than kisses, but he bent his head so that his brow pressed against hers. “That napkin was just to soften you up. Take another look in the bag, kitten. There’s more.”

“More?” Still distracted by the power he packed, she tucked the napkin back into the bag before sifting through the rest of its contents. To her surprise she found a nicely packaged phone case decked out in silver and purple bling, and… “Wait. Is this a cell phone?”

“It’s no big deal. Just an ordinary phone that you’ll be able to use in cases of emergency.”

“Max, that’s no ordinary phone.” In fact, if she wasn’t very much mistaken, that was the latest model for the most popular phone in the world. “Listen—”

“Stop.” He held up a hand and his face hardened until it resembled a granite mask. “Before you bitch me out and say no, this isn’t a gift for you, okay? You accept it, and you’ll be giving me a gift.”

She took the phone out of the bag and stared at it. “I don’t get how that works.”

“You taking this phone will be a gift to me, because I’m fucking sick of worrying when you’re not with me and I don’t know where the hell you are.”

Aw. “Max, I—”

“Paradise, fair warning, I’m not going to stand here and have a damn debate about this. Take it.”

“But—”

“Do you have any idea how many times a day I have to literally stop myself from going across the street to make sure you’re still there? That you haven’t been mugged on the way into work, or burned in the kitchen, or harassed by some asshole customer, or some jackhole didn’t leave you the tip you deserved?”

Oh wow, this man… “How many times? Round up so I can be suitably impressed.”

“I don’t have to round up, smartass. I’m stopping myself at least a dozen times a day from running over to the Mad Cow to make sure you’re all right, and you know what? I wouldn’t have that problem if you just. Had. A fucking. Phone.”

She was so deeply moved he cared so much that it was hard not to simply stand there and smile at him like an idiot. “You know that’s crazy, right?”

“Oh no, you don’t. You’re not putting this shit on me when you’re the one who’s responsible for me being so fucked up. You’re the one who’s made me crazy.”

“How do you figure that?”

“All I know is that I was sane until I met you. Or at least in the zip code of sane. Then you came along with your killer ass and fucking outstanding oral fixation, and all of a sudden I’m a basket case. I’m scared shitless you’re not going to be across the street where you should be, or that I won’t know where to look for you, or even know how to get a hold of you, because of your goddamn phone-less life. You see? Your fault. All your fault.”

She pursed her lips, delighting in how his eyes fell hungrily to the movement. “Hmm. Sounds like you want to punish me.”

“That’ll be the case if you don’t take this phone. I’m serious, Pari—this mad shit ends tonight. I can’t take it anymore, so don’t even think about throwing this gift back in my face like the last time.”

“Okay.”

His chest expanded like a bellows, his eyes still alight with battle. “Wait. What do you mean, okay?”

“I mean, okay. Though I do still like the idea of receiving messages from you when they come with flowers. Flowers are so much more personal and romantic than text messages.”

“I’ll send you flowers every damn day if that’s what you want, just as long as you take that phone and I can finally have some peace of mind.”

“Every day is a bit much,” she said with laughter in her voice. “Weekly will do.”

“Is that a yes? You’re taking the phone?”

At last she let the laughter out, dropped the bag and launched herself into his arms. “It’s a yes, and thank you very much for being so wonderful, Max. I’m just sorry I’ve been worrying you. If you had told me that my not having a phone was stressing you out, I would have done something about it so you could rest easy.”

“My problem. My solution.” His arms wrapped around her so hard her feet left the floor, and before she knew it he was moving toward the padded tattooing table. “All I care about is that you’re cool with my solution.”

“I am. But the point I was trying to make is that I can afford my own phone. If you’d just mentioned—”

“My problem,” he said again, his deep voice firming. “My solution. And don’t say one fucking word about the bill,” he added as she opened her mouth to do just that. Instead she gasped when he dropped her onto the table and began undoing the buttons that ranged down to the waist of her uniform. “It’s not open for negotiation. Because I chose to do this, the responsibility of it is on me, and you don’t have any say in the matter.”

Good grief. “Uh, not to change the subject, but we are at your workplace, Max. Remember?”

“Light’s on outside my booth, kitten. People have to disrobe in various ways if they want to get their ink, so when that light is on, no one walks in. These booths are designed for discretion and privacy.”

Despite her better judgment, her skin began to burn wherever he touched. “But they’re not soundproof. Scout told me to keep that in mind.”

“Did she? Bless her.”

“Have you forgotten that I’m noisy?”

“I haven’t forgotten a damn thing.” Opening the sides of her uniform’s bodice as wide as possible, he slid a hand inside to cup a breast. “That’s why you’re going to have to be quiet while I fuck you. If you’re not I’ll have to stop, and I’m thinking my little kitten won’t want that. Am I right?”

It was almost impossible to think coherently when he’d pushed his way past her bra and was now lightly pinching her nipple. “Or, you could behave yourself and, um… and not start at all.”

“But you’re pushing into my hand, and I’d bet my Harley you’re already wet and getting wetter, yeah?” His hips nudged between her knees while his other hand slid up her thigh all the way to her sex. Her breath caught audibly when he stroked her slit, and her eyes fluttered almost closed when she felt the slick heat of it. “Yeah, thought as much. You don’t know how I love it that you’re not wearing panties anymore.”

“I do it for you.” The admission slipped out without a thought while she rolled her hips against him. “All my life it was expected of me to be the good girl, so I was. I was always so concerned about doing all the proper things and thinking all the proper thoughts. But you bring something out in me that sets me free…” She had to stop as a small spasm of pleasure bloomed, and she closed her eyes on a low, almost soundless moan.

“You like that, don’t you?” His roughly purring voice was the most delicious sound of sex to her ears. “You’re already revved up and ready to go. What kind of man would I be if I stopped now and let my woman suffer by not giving her what she needs?”

“A very careless one.” The words came out unevenly, her whole body jerking with small, muscle-jumping quakes every time his questing touch slid over her clit. He was playing her like she was his favorite instrument, and all too soon she forgot what the point of their conversation was. “I want you, Max.” She opened her legs wide, and the action pushed the material of her skirt farther up her thighs. “Please get inside me.”

“I love it when you beg for me.” He trailed open-mouthed kisses along the line of her neck, sampling the taste of her. And all the while he worked his magic between her legs, circling that nub before he slid a finger inside her. Her breath stilled on an audible squeak, and he smiled against her lips. “Say it again, my Paradise. Beg me to fill your pussy, and put all that you’ve got into it, because it’s the last sound I’m going to allow you to make. Anything after that, and I swear to God I’ll stop what I’m doing, even if it gives me a lethal case of blue balls.”

Just the thought nearly made her whimper. “Even if I have to gag myself, I’ll be quiet. Just don’t stop, Max. Please.”

“There’s the magic word.” He smiled against her skin before running his tongue along the line of her collarbone. “Get my wallet out for me, kitten, and then undo my pants. My hands are full.”

Heaven help her, that was hot

It took a significant amount of concentration for her to perform these tasks, because Max didn’t let up in stroking her most sensitive points. He even drove her closer to the edge by lowering his head and taking the peak of her breast into his mouth, pulling the upper part of her uniform down to her waist along with her bra. She almost dropped the contents of his wallet, but at last she managed to fish out one of the three condoms he had stashed there before undoing the front of his pants.

“We’re going to do this up right.” Taking the condom from her, he pulled the circle of Latex out, then held it up to her mouth. “Open.”

Her heart did a triple somersault even as she did as she was told, carefully holding the circle between her lips while he went about freeing his cock from his loosened clothes.

“Put it on me, Paradise.”

Heady excitement pulsed through her to center at the place between her legs. Taking his blood-darkened, stiff flesh in hand, she bent and carefully rolled the condom in place while taking him deep into her mouth.

It might have been the sexiest thing she’d ever done in her life.

“That mouth of yours…God, you are truly paradise.” A shudder went through him, something she could feel since she’d wrapped her arms around his legs so she could pull him more deeply into her mouth and down her throat, reveling in his pleasure. “My everything. You’re my everything…God.”

And he was worried about her being noisy.

Before she could get too carried away with her gloating triumph, he pulled out of her mouth on a pained groan. In the next second he maneuvered her so that she was lying back on the table while he draped her feet up and over his shoulders. His torso leaned over hers, and the position folded her legs almost flat against her body. Then, with one powerful thrust he entered her, stretching her and filling her emptiness in a way she couldn’t get enough of.

“No sound,” he whispered, and began to pump into her.

It was torture, not letting the moans of pleasure out, and more than a little distracting. Concentrating on not making a sound kept her so preoccupied that she didn’t realize her orgasm was almost upon her until she was on the verge of being overwhelmed by it.

Then it was there. Her muscles tightened, her shuddering breath halted, and that deliciously addictive tingling bloomed deep inside her, folding in on itself and compressing until she thought she’d shatter with the pressure. Her release ripped through her like an ignited powder keg, and the explosion rippled outward to bathe every part of her in a frenzy of heat.

But, to her credit, it was a virtually soundless explosion.

It did help that his mouth crushed down on hers even as she strained up to meet his kiss. Her heels dug into his back, without words urging him to delve as deeply as he could so that she didn’t know where she ended and he began.

Beautiful, so beautiful, to have him inside her where he belonged.

With his mouth on hers, she felt more than heard his grunts as he thrust into her powerfully three more times before he groaned down her throat and dropped his head into the hollow of her shoulder. His breathing was gratifyingly rough, and she could feel the dampness of his brow as he pressed it into her neck.

“We are never doing this again,” he announced abruptly, shocking her so much she half-sat up. With him still inside her, that was quite a feat, but she was too alarmed to think of that now.

“What? Are you saying you didn’t enjoy it?” If he was already tiring of her…

“Are you kidding me?” With his crazed grin flashing, he dived his hands into her short hair forced her distressed eyes to lock onto his. “Every time I fuck you it’s like discovering what it’s like to be fully alive. Every second that I’m away from you is just some shit I have to get through until I can be alive inside you again.”

“Then why—”

“I go crazy over the sounds you make when I make you come.” He kissed her, his tongue sexing it up with hers until her anxiety was a distant memory and her blood was heating once more. “I feed off of knowing you’re so out of control you can’t contain it. You contained it here, which means I owe you a fucking that’s so wild and beautiful it shatters every part of you, especially your control. I can’t wait.”

Impossibly, another surge of wetness bloomed around his softening cock, and her breath caught audibly. “That makes two of us.”

At that, Max grinned. “Tonight, when I get you home, I’ll make it my mission in life to make you scream in all the best possible ways.”

She shuddered. “It’s like you’re actually trying to kill me with anticipation.”

“Just making promises I can’t wait to keep.”

“So,” she cleared her throat, trying to distract herself. “I guess since we’re in a place where we have to be restrained and not scream like freaking banshees, can we talk about a tattoo I’ve been thinking about getting?”

His brows went up even as he gently pulled out of her. “You want to get a tattoo?”

“Just something small. Kind of a remembrance tattoo of my parents. They were killed last April, so that one-year anniversary is just a few days away. I’d like something, but I don’t know what. Your tattoo honoring your friend Hendricks was so appropriate and touching that it’s inspired me to think about how I could honor my parents. Something small that’ll make me smile and remember the good times, but I don’t know what that would be.”

“I think I do.” Dealing with the condom and washing up at the counter sink, he turned back to her while drying his hands. “Do you have any birthday cards or letters that they wrote to you?”

Her brows went up as she finished putting her clothes back to rights. Her uniform was a wrinkled mess since it got bunched up at her waist, but she had no regrets. “I used to scrapbook, so I’m sure I have something. Why?”

“I can put their signatures on each wrist where you would be able to see them every day. Their messages of love, their handwriting that you would know anywhere—something personal like that. I could place all of that right over your pulse, where the life they gave you still thrives.”

The way he put it was so on-point it brought tears to her eyes. “I would love that. How much would something like that cost?”

“The cost would be for you to agree to another tattoo. This one would be of my choosing, as well as its placement.”

Shock rippled through her, but when she searched his face she saw he was serious, and that her response mattered to him. The moment she realized that, she nodded. “Okay.”

It was his turn to look shocked. “Okay? Don’t you want to know what it is?”

“Of course. But I trust you, both the man and the artist. You take pride in your work and you take pride in how well you take care of me. And you do go out of your way to take care of me, even though I can take care of myself,” she added with a smile. “So that’s why I say okay. Though if you feel like you want to let me in on what you have in mind—and how painful it might be—I certainly wouldn’t stop you.”

“Paradise found,” came the immediate reply, as if he’d been thinking about it for a long time and couldn’t wait to share it with her. “Those two words. It can’t be anything else.”

“Paradise…found?” Her lungs had a hard time pulling in enough air, but it wasn’t because she didn’t like the idea. She loved it, on so many levels. The greatest level of all, though, was the implication that he believed she was his personal paradise that he’d found. No woman could have breathed properly after hearing such a thing. “Describe it to me, my Max.”

“It’s my personal stamp on you,” he said, not bothering to sugar-coat it. “One word on each inner thigh in Cyrillic script, in shades of purple and black with silver highlights for a 3D effect, and small enough that it won’t be seen unless you’re in a bikini or naked. As for the pain, I know that’s a sensitive area, but I’ll keep it small and I’ll finish both tattoos in one session. My favorite place in the world is between your thighs, so you have my word that I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure your discomfort is minimal.”

“Okay,” she said again, and when he smiled as if she’d just given him a gift, she despaired of ever being able to say no to that face.

If Pari had stayed in Waukegan, finding bits of her parents’ writing would have been a snap. Countless samples had been left behind in the rambling, sunshine-filled house where she’d grown up, from the notes in her father’s perpetually jumbled office, to the backs of the photos her shutterbug mother had taken throughout her lifetime.

But when Pari had left the house that she and Vana still co-owned, she hadn’t wanted anything to do with the past. She’d even contemplated simply lighting a match on her way out the door and letting the place she’d once lovingly called home burn down to its foundation.

That was then.

This was now.

She still didn’t want to think about the past.

God, no.

But she was ready to get her first ink.

She hadn’t visited the storage unit she’d rented since the day she’d moved into her apartment. No more than a five-minute walk from her place, she’d chosen the storage facility both for its proximity and its security. Not that her half-dozen boxes full of junk was worth much, but when she’d first arrived in Chicago she’d been running on the instincts of a hunted animal that had barely managed to escape a spring-loaded steel trap.

An apt description if there ever was one.

The storage facility she’d chosen was housed in a converted red brick warehouse in Chinatown, and the units could only be accessed from within the building itself. A card key with a personal security code was the only way in, and she’d paid extra to get a unit that was right next door to the security office.

At the time she’d needed to feel as secure as possible. She’d need that, because she’d learned the hard way there was no such thing in this world as truly being safe.

The first box she ripped open yielded what had been the contents of her old closet, and looking at what she’d thought was important enough to schlep all the way to Chicago made her shake her head. Of course she recognized the businesslike clothes, the fancy shoes and her once-treasured collection of designer handbags. But digging through that box was like digging through the personal effects of a woman she didn’t know. While she was relieved she didn’t experience the profound sense of loss that she’d been dreading, it was nevertheless disconcerting. All the trappings of her old life had seemed so important at the time. But it all meant nothing to her now.

What did have meaning for her, in this new life she’d built for herself? What was it that mattered?

Max, came the immediate answer.

Amidst all the chaos and pain of a past she was trying to forget, Max was a healing oasis.

That was what she needed to focus on, she decided grimly. Her past was dead. What mattered was the present, and that translated to one thing.

Max.

But she did still need those writing samples.

Throughout her teen and undergrad years she’d been all about scrapbooking, almost as if she’d somehow known she needed to preserve whatever precious moments there were while her family was still whole. Unfortunately, during the crazy hustle and bustle of grad school, she’d grown too busy to catalogue the fun moments of her life. In the back of her mind she’d assumed she’d eventually get back to her scrapbooking hobby.

There would be time, she’d thought.

All the time in the world.

Now, of course, she knew better.

No one knew how much time they had. The trick was to reject the lie that there was always a tomorrow, and to never take loved ones and family for granted.

Unless, of course, that family turned on you and made you do something unimaginable.

In the silence of the storage unit, Pari squeezed her eyes shut. There. That was the real reason she hadn’t bothered to open any of these stupid boxes since she’d left her old life. No matter what she did, or how far she ran, it always came back to Vana. Her sister. Her last living relative.

The traitor.

Pari had made sure Vana had one other label to follow her for the rest of her days.

The felon.

An echo of Vana’s remembered laughter whispered in her ears. At once, her stomach churned and heart pounded with brutal, soul-slashing fury.

Maybe she wasn’t as ready for this as she’d thought.

Determined to finish what she’d started, Pari forced herself to keep going. Thankfully in the third box she opened she found what she was looking for. Beneath a veil of packing paper, she uncovered her scrapbooks, and without fanfare she hauled the first one out. But at that point her courage faltered, and for a fleeting moment she wished she was still in her numb cocoon.

But that wasn’t living. She knew that now.

Living was all about laughter and exploration and hope and love.

At times, like today, it was also about pain.

With her chest tightening in the stillness, she flipped the first padded cover open.

Niagara Falls.

A knife twisted deep into the core of her soul, and she had to pause until the agony of it lessened to a manageable roar. She’d forgotten all about that trip. They’d taken a vacation during the summer between her junior and senior year in high school, just the four of them. At the time, she hadn’t wanted to go on a road trip with her family. She’d wanted to stay home so she could do a summer course that would give her an extra college credit, while her sister had been furious she wasn’t able to go on a trip to New York with her besties.

Their parents, though, had been adamant. They were going to make that trip happen. Pari had lost count of how many times her mother had said it was probably going to be the last chance they’d ever have to take a vacation together as a family.

Little did her mother know how right she was.

Neither Pari nor Vana had been happy about being forced into that trip, and the photos showed it. They stood in their slickers on a viewing deck with one of the greatest natural wonders of the world behind them, their mother and father beaming with the sheer joy of being together with the family they loved.

She and Vana looked like sunken-eyed hostages.

Funny how things looked with a little perspective. She’d come to think of her sister as an ungrateful, Lola-like brat, spoiled beyond all hope.

But now…

Now she wondered if she hadn’t been just as bad.

Look after your little sister, Pari. You know how Vana is, so don’t let her fall off the edge.

That was the last picture taken at Niagara—Pari pulling her sister back from the railing that Vana had almost toppled over trying to reach for the falling water.

You know how Vana is…

Oh, yes. She knew.

And if she ever forgot, all she had to do was look in the mirror and see the scar near her left eye.

More memories floated to the surface as Pari flipped through the pages—a science fair that she and her father had worked on for hours on end. The Thanksgiving where they’d invited a couple Coast Guard friends of friends who otherwise wouldn’t have done anything to mark the special day. Her Senior Prom, with the boy who’d ditched her to go to an after-party she hadn’t been invited to and—according to her sister, who had been invited—had wound up screwing a MILF.

“Just think. That guy chose to fuck a dried-up cunt rather than talk his way into your pants. Lazy loser was obviously just looking for a quick lay. God knows that’s not you.”

Yeah.

Vana hadn’t let her forget about that for a long time.

Look after your little sister, Pari.

Tight-lipped, Pari flipped through more pages and more memories. Programs, pictures and ribbons from various tennis tournaments, empty packs of seeds from planting their kitchen garden, pressed flowers from the front yard. With every page, more weight crushed down onto her heart until it was a wonder it still managed to beat. The avalanche of memories was so intense she almost forgot why she was forcing herself to sift through the pieces of her old life in the first place. But at the last second she caught sight of a clear plastic sheet protector full of colored envelopes, a collection of greeting cards, and she knew right away that was what she’d been searching for.

Don’t let her fall off the edge.

Pari’s fingers clenched around the cards while her throat tightened hard enough to make her eyes water. “I’m sorry, Mom,” she whispered into the silence of the storage unit. “After you died, I couldn’t keep her from falling.”

Don’t let her fall…

No.

What she’d said was a lie.

In the end, Vana hadn’t fallen off the edge.

Pari had pushed her.

Maybe it was a blessing her parents were no longer around to see what had become of their daughters.

Tom Jones’s “Sex Bomb” sounded, jolting her out of the darkness and back to her surroundings. Automatically she reached for the back pocket of her jeans, a reluctant smile shadowing her lips at the now-familiar melody. The ringtone was something Max had chosen for himself before he’d given her the phone, and it was pure Max—off-kilter and unconventional, and tongue-in-cheek hilarious. If she’d scoured the world over for a ringtone that suited him, she couldn’t have come up with a better one.

“Heya, Max.” She answered the same way every time, and always with the same sense of anticipation that something awesome was about to happen. Even mired down in painful memories of the past, she still felt that breathless excitement. “I’m not running late, am I? I thought you were supposed to be picking me up in front of my apartment at ten.”

“I’m running early because I have a surprise for you. What are you doing in Chinatown?”

For only a second she blinked before realizing he’d obviously activated the location app on her phone before giving it to her. “I had to dig out some old greeting cards in order to get writing samples of my parents, so I had to go to my storage unit. Your timing is excellent, because I just found what I was looking for. I can be at my apartment in five minutes.”

“And I can be where you are in one. Stand out by the Gate and I’ll swing by to pick you up.”

“Are you sure you—” Pari stopped when she realized she was talking to herself, before stuffing the phone into her pocket and pulling the entire plastic sheath of cards from the scrapbook. That was how it was with Max, she’d come to realize. From the moment he’d crossed her path, life had been anything but predictable.

In no time at all, she walked to where he’d instructed her to meet him, and as she went she slipped on a pair of sunglasses and glanced around for Max’s truck. Though it was still midmorning and chilly, it was warming up quickly and promising to be a gorgeous day. Once spring had decided to make an appearance, it hadn’t been shy about taking center stage. If she’d been back home, she would have already started working in the garden…

A rumble of a motorcycle made her glance distractedly down the street, only to do a neck-popping double-take when she realized the rider was Max.

Hot.

HOT.

Holy crud, he was the hottest thing the male of the species had ever produced. She’d bet her life on it.

He didn’t wear a helmet, and while the practical part of her feared for his safety, the turned-on fangirl part of her adored how his shaggy faux-hawk blew in the wind. He wore some sleek-looking shades, and his black leather biker’s jacket had a zipper cut on a bias across the front of his wide chest. Black biker boots, fingerless leather gloves and jeans rounded out the look, along with a heavy-looking black and chrome bike she didn’t have to be told was a Harley. Even if she hadn’t known the man was an ardent admirer of the brand, the deep growl of the engine and the machine’s dead-sexy sleekness would have told her exactly what it was.

When it came to his pleasures, her man settled for nothing but the best.

Another delightful thing they had in common.

Executing a sweetly smooth arc that was probably illegal, Max came to a stop right next to her under the red pillars that held up the pagoda-style tiers of green roofs topping the Chinatown Gate. Sliding his sunglasses off, he hung them on his jacket and gave her a slow, smoldering smile. “Surprise, kitten.”

“Holy freakin’ wow.” Honestly, she would be lying if she said anything else. “Talk about making an entrance. I feel like I should applaud.”

“I try. Are those the writing samples?”

“What? Oh.” Dazedly she looked at the plastic sheath, and her smile dimmed. “Yes, I knew they’d be in the scrapbooks that I …” Her voice wobbled and she sucked in a steadying breath. “I found them in some scrapbooks.”

His gaze sharpened. “You okay?”

“Mm-hm. Sure.”

“No, you’re not.” Without warning, he reached out and plucked her sunglasses off. His brows slammed down when he discovered her eyes were swimming with unshed wetness. “Pari, what the hell?”

“It’s no big deal. I just didn’t think it would hit me so hard, going through bits and pieces of a life I shared with my family only a year ago.” She tried not to sniffle, or wail, or simply shut down like she had when her world had fallen apart. “It’s nothing to worry about, Max, okay? Don’t think anything of it.”

“You’re hurting.” Taking the plastic sheath from her, he tucked it in a saddlebag, then curled an arm around her waist to pull her closer. “I don’t like seeing hurt in your eyes, or tears.”

“Believe me, I’m not a big fan, either.” Her laugh was rocky and sounded fake even to her ears. “I just wasn’t prepared for how hard it would hit me, that’s all.”

“Of course my Pari grieves.” With his brow puckering in concern, he cupped a gloved hand around her nape and pulled her in for a kiss so tender it almost shattered her. When it ended, he rested his brow against hers. “You won’t work today.”

That random announcement made her blink. “What?”

“You’re taking the day off. I will, too. You need this, and it’s my job to make sure my Pari gets whatever she needs.”

The light that bloomed in her chest chased away the encroaching darkness. “I can’t just leave everyone high and dry. I wouldn’t even know how to do it. I haven’t taken a day off since I started working at the Mad Cow.”

“Then it’s about damn time you did. Let me worry about it,” he added when she opened her mouth. Once he handed her sunglasses back to her, he slid his own back in place and revved the bike’s engine. “The only thing you have to worry about now is climbing onto the back of my bike, holding on tight, and letting me take care of the details.”

Minutes later, wearing a chinstrap-style helmet he’d pulled out from beneath the seat, Pari found herself nestled behind Max, her arms around him and her heart thundering against him as he pulled away from the curb. It was a total toss-up as to whether or not it was more terrifying or exhilarating, gliding through the manmade canyons of the heart of Chicago, but she was sure she’d remember every second of it.

Brilliant sunlight flashed in and out between the gaps in the buildings as they weaved their way through traffic, and she found herself relaxing enough to simply enjoy the thrill of the ride and the feel of the man she was snuggled up against. Though the air was brisk, she was encased in a bubble of warmth that radiated from Max’s hard body. The juncture of her thighs was right up against the curve of his butt, with the inner line of her legs hugging his. She wanted to move closer, maybe even rub her legs along his to create some highly enjoyable friction, but she feared any huge body movement would wind them up on the pavement. So she pacified herself with sneaking her hands under his jacket on the pretext of warming them up, and she knew he liked it when he pressed a hand over hers when they were stopped at a stoplight.

Eventually he turned east toward the lake onto a street that ran under the L, and it was a remarkable experience, like being in a tunnel with no sides. They went on for what felt like forever, and she found herself wishing the drive could go on and on, but eventually the road ran out near the Gold Coast. To her surprise, Max pulled into an underground parking lot of one of the many towering high rises, parked near a bank of elevators and turned off the engine. In the echoing silence she peeled her sunglasses off, exhilaration still pumping through her veins.

“That was incredible,” she breathed, beaming. “Why did we stop here? Where are we?”

“I told you that I had a surprise for you.” Peeling off his own shades, he looked over his shoulder at her and grinned. “This is it. Like it?”

She looked around the dim underground parking garage. “Um…”

He chuckled and steadied her as she climbed off the bike. “You can tell me how much you like it after we go up.”

“Up?”

“You’ll see.”

With the phone to his ear, Max didn’t take his eyes off Pari as she wandered around the hotel suite’s living room area, eyes wide. The tears were long gone and there was a ghost of a smile playing around the corners of her mouth.

Good.

There was a lot of shit he’d put up with in this world, but Pari trying not to cry wasn’t one of them. If she was upset, he’d grind the whole fucking universe to a halt and make sure that upset got wiped out of existence.

That was his right, his mission and his privilege.

Nothing would get in the way of that.

“Bosko sends his best,” he said after wrapping up the call, then watched her turn to shoot him a look of surprise.

“Wait, that call was to my boss?”

“I wanted to make sure I had you all to myself today. I’ve already called in to the House as well to let them know I’m taking a personal day. Bosko was way cooler about it than Payne.”

Her yikes expression was fucking adorable. “Is that your way of saying your butt’s in a sling?”

“Payne’s a pain, but it’s no big deal.” He dropped the phone onto a side table and closed the distance between them. The white-carpeted hotel suite, decked out in contemporary furniture in shades of grey with vibrant splashes of red, vanished as unimportant background as he zeroed in on what mattered. Pari. Making sure she was in a good place now his number-one priority. “He said he’d give me double shifts the entire time Scout’s away on maternity leave, whereas your boss thought a day of watching Japanese anime would be the coolest thing you could do to lift your spirits.”

He was glad to see her anxiety melt into a smile, before she turned to stare out of a floor-to-ceiling window. “My spirits are properly lifted high above the city. This is an incredible view of Millennium Park and the coast. Thank you, Max.”

“Why thank me? I didn’t build the skyline.”

“No, but I never would have seen it from this perspective if you hadn’t gotten it into your head to spoil me rotten. I can’t help but thank you for this wonderful surprise.”

What a gift this woman was. So grateful for every little thing. “It’s impossible to spoil you rotten.”

“I don’t mind if you keep trying.”

“You got it. But I think you might be incorruptible.”

An odd darkness flitted through her eyes before she turned back to the window. “Only saints are incorruptible, and I’m definitely no saint. Something you should be happy for,” she added with a sudden, sassy grin. “Saints don’t have oral fixations.”

“Thank fuck. Not to mention saints are probably boring as hell, and I’m never bored when you’re around to hold.” He came up behind to slide his arms around her, pulling her back to settle against his chest. He took a moment to let her warmth seep in before his hands moved up her front to undo the dainty buttons on her pink cardigan.

“And taste.” Slowly he slid the sweater off her shoulders to fall at their feet before bending to slide his lips and tongue along the line of her shoulder. It never failed to dazzle him, how she could taste like the sweetest cotton candy and the raunchiest fuck-fantasy all at the same time. When he came to the strap of her bra, he plucked it off her shoulder with his teeth while he unhooked it at her back. When the bra also fell to the floor, he turned her to face him.

“And worship.” In one smooth motion he bent, circled his arms under her ass and lifted her off her feet. His view of her as he turned toward the bed was fucking spectacular—creamy white skin and full, perky tits capped with rosy nipples. Unable to resist all that perfection, he buried his face in the valley of her breasts as he lowered her onto the bed, his tongue whirling over her skin. “I’m going to worship the fuck out of you, kitten. Worship you and spoil you. I’m hoping like hell I’ll corrupt you in the best possible way.”

A breathy laugh escaped her as she worked on freeing him from his clothes. “Sounds like fun.”

“Fuck fun. I’m aiming for mind-blowing.” With that, he set about making his goal a reality.

His clothes and hers were peeled away piece by piece, and his mouth feasted on every part of her as she was revealed. God, she was amazing. The sight of her, the feel of her, the taste of her. She fit every single one of his desires, even ones he didn’t know he had. It was almost impossible to believe she wasn’t a figment of his fevered imagination.

“Naked Pari is my favorite Pari.” Smiling against her skin, he swirled his tongue around her nipple then sucked on it until she moaned and arched, before moving down to kiss the perfect little divot of her belly button. “What I wouldn’t give to keep you like this for the rest of the week.”

“I’ll agree to that only if you’re naked with me.” Her voice caught on the last word as he cupped his hands around the back of her knees and gently pulled them apart. “Seeing where you want to place your tattoos?”

“Ray nayden.” The Russian words resonated deep inside him, in a place he never knew existed. Somehow they meant more when he said them in his native tongue. “Paradise found. Those are my personal words for where I belong. My words for you. I can’t wait to see them there, welcoming me home.”

Her eyes once again filled with tears, but this time they were the kind he’d hoped to see. That sweet image burned itself into his mind even as he dipped his head and set about giving her so much exquisite sensation those tears would fall out of sheer bliss.

For long minutes he carefully stoked her inner fires to a crescendo with his mouth, his tongue toying with her clit until he could feel her pulse there. Diligently he kept his own pounding need in check by devoting his attention to making sure he had her right where he wanted her—helpless and utterly under his control. He listened as her breathing went through shallow unevenness, to sharp gasps, to mindless, blissed-out moaning. When those moans became ragged he made himself ease back. He did this so many times he lost count, mouth-fucking her perfect cunt before trailing away to kiss her thighs or her belly.

Keeping her riding that edge.

Refusing to let her come.

Refusing to let her go anywhere else.

“Please.” The broken plea sank through his focus on edging her into muscle-twitching madness. Her hips were pumping against him, wordlessly begging for his cock to fill her while he worked on keeping ecstasy just beyond her reach. “I need… Oh, God. Please, let me… I have to.”

“You have to what, kitten?” He lifted his head yet again to watch her, her incoherence thrilling him. When she reached to finish the job herself his caught both her hands in one of his, then lowered his head yet again to close his lips over her clit and teased it relentlessly. His cock throbbed in an agony of need, feeling so full and feverish he thought he’d burst, and not in a good way. But his desire to make her insane overrode everything else.

“Max.” She shuddered as she gasped his name. Prayerful. Reverent. Like it was the only word she knew. “Max. Max.”

The urgent throbbing of his dick grew, and that throbbing rippled outward until it encompassed his whole body/ At last he found his limit. Realizing this, he clenched every muscle he had to regain tenuous control and moved away to retrieve a condom.

The second he retreated she cried out in frustration, but he was back almost instantly, which was just as well. The moment he made a move toward her, she locked onto him with her legs, one arm going around his waist while her free hand reached for his cock to guide him to her threshold.

Home.

With one fierce thrust that should have split her in two, he filled her and watched her neck arch as her head pushed into the mattress, her gasp a near-silent scream. Half a second later she was writhing beneath him while every nerve in his body all but sang as her white-hot inner walls clenched around his cock.

Beautiful.

So beautiful, it broke him.

He drove in as deeply as he could, mindlessly chasing the ecstasy that even now was turning around to swallow him up. It was already hitting her, her whole body convulsing, her cries of completion ringing in his ears while her arms and legs squeezed him to her. Her pleasure triggered his, and in the next heartbeat he was pumping into her with everything he had. Pleasure exploded, so lush and brilliant he could only hope it burned away all the clouds on her horizon.

It took a long time for Pari to come back down from her ecstasy-induced trance. That was how she thought of it—an actual trance that robbed her of basic brain function, and all she knew was a floating bliss. She’d never run into anything quite like it in her life; only Max seemed to be able to put her in that stupefied state, but she wasn’t complaining. How could she? She was beyond thought, or worry, or awareness of the world. All that mattered was that echoes of ecstasy made her nerve endings hum with a desire that could roar back to life at a moment’s notice.

She wasn’t sure how he’d done it, but she was almost certain Max had turned her into a lust-filled nymphomaniac.

“I loved that.” The words babbled out of her without her brain letting her know she wanted to speak. But then, that wasn’t surprising. As far as she could tell, her higher thinking areas had blown several critical fuses. “I loved almost coming, then not. Almost coming, then not. Almost…” A shudder moved through her, and heaven help her, her cleft began to ache all over again. “Oh, gosh. Just thinking about it makes me want to come again. You’ve made me into this freaking… horny…” Her brain still wasn’t engaging, but she tried her best. “Horny wet horndog.”

A laugh rumbled from him and he rolled them so that he was on the bottom and she was on top, their bodies still connected. “Glad you liked it. I had to do something to take the sadness from your eyes. I’m glad to see my plan worked.”

“It was an awesome plan. Seriously, two thumbs up from this critic.”

“Just so you know, that’s pretty much my plan for everything. You get pissed at me, I screw your brains out. You get bored—same thing. And sadness… Well, you know the story.” He turned his face into her neck and kissed her there. “You’re not still sad, are you, kitten?”

“No.” She closed her eyes to better savor the sensation of his mouth caressing her skin. “It was just hard to see my parents again, and… and Vana. The scrapbooks I put together over the years carry a lot of good memories. Memories that I know I’ll someday be able to look at without drowning in grief. I’m just not there yet.”

“I understand.” He rolled again, this time to his side so they were lying face to face on the vast expanse of the bed, their legs entangled. “Do you ever see your sister?”

“She’s in prison, so no.” The words came out harder than she’d expected, and she was just as surprised as he looked to hear the jagged edges in her tone.

“Prison? Why is she in prison?”

Because I put her there. “Long story.”

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, kitten, but I’ve got all day and night. So do you.”

A whisper of pain echoed through her, but it was drowned out by the surprising need to share this one facet of her old life with him. That world was gone. Unfortunately is just wasn’t forgotten. “Vana was in the car when my parents were killed. She was in the backseat and had both of her her feet badly broken. They had to cut her out of the car to get her out, can you imagine? The bodies of our parents were also trapped in the wreckage, so she was stuck in there with them for hours before they were able to get her out. Needless to say, she wasn’t in great shape mentally or physically after the wreck, though that’s no excuse. Remember Malibu Barbie?”

He blinked a moment before the light went on. “You mean that idiot you work with?”

She nodded. “Lola. My sister Vana is just like her. Self-centered and spoiled, Vana was never made to do anything for herself. It didn’t help matters that she was a natural-born wild child.”

“Sounds like you two didn’t get along.”

“We had our moments.” But those moments were now buried under the pain and terror of one terrible late summer night that led to hell on earth. “We were just like any other siblings until our parents were killed. Then without warning, all we had was each other, and for a while that seemed to bring us closer together. In the beginning I think we both felt that it was the two of us against the world, and as long as we had each other, we’d be okay.”

“In the beginning.” He repeated the words with such surprising gentleness it made a knot lodge in her throat. How understanding this hard-edged man could be. “It didn’t last?”

“No.” She waited until the knot loosened before she pulled in a calming breath. “Did you know that for some people, it can take only seven days to become completely addicted to opiates?”

A frown flitted across his face. “No, kitten, I didn’t.”

“It’s true. No one’s sure why it hits some people more ferociously than others. Current theory is that a mixture of genetics and psychological trauma—like having your parents die in front of you and then being trapped for hours with their bodies—can trigger addiction. Three months out from the crash, Vana was hitting the pain killers as hard as ever, except by this time she was mixing them with alcohol and whatever else she could get her hands on. Eventually she broke into a-a pharmacy.” Her throat closed up, remembering all too clearly how her boss had brought her in to let her know what had happened. The shame and the anger had been so overwhelming that the fear of her sister careening out of control had gotten pushed to the side. “The owner of the pharmacy was a family friend. He knew what had happened to our parents and what a horrible time Vana had been going through. Because of that, he didn’t report her to the authorities. He should have, though. It only got worse from there.”

He made a concerned sound and stroked the hair off her brow. “What happened?”

So many answers surged up that they got jammed in her throat. The pain. The terror. Her long hair falling to a grimy, oil-stained floor. Her teeth joining her hair. The betrayal, Vana’s and hers. The death of loyalty and love. The final and irreparable end of the Simone family.

All of it came down to one unhealed wound.

“What happened? Harvey Nelson happened.” She spat the name out quickly, before it could poison her. “I knew Vana had been seeing someone, but whenever I asked her about it she got all crazy-eyed and defensive. She wouldn’t tell me anything about her man, not even what he looked like. If I so much as asked her anything, her default response was you’re not my mother. Like I didn’t know that already.”

“She sounds like a really young kid. How much older are you than Vana?”

“A year. Fourteen months to be precise.”

He slow-blinked. “Are you shitting me? She sounds like a child.”

“There were times—a lot of times—when she acted like one.”

“You didn’t put up with her shit, did you?”

She hesitated. “Vana went through something that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, so whenever she acted out I usually backed off instead of pressing her for answers. I did my best to give her the space I thought she needed to get back on her feet, and went about my daily life as best I could. But almost every evening on the way home to my apartment, I would stop by the house where Vana was still living to see if she was okay. Many times I found her stoned out of her mind or drunk, or both. Once I found her OD’ed and I had to call an ambulance. And once…” She’d found Harvey Nelson.

Or to be more accurate, he’d found her.

Because he’d been waiting for her.

When she didn’t go on, he gave her a squeeze. “And once?”

“Harvey Nelson was there. He was…” Again her throat locked up. Shame burned like acid, and on so many levels that even now she couldn’t bring it out into the light. Max was a man who valued loyalty. What Vana had done to her—and what she in turn had done to Vana and Harvey Nelson—was something so ugly she couldn’t bear to explain it to him. “Come to find out, Harvey Nelson was the mystery man in my sister’s life. He also happened to be a drug dealer. He was probably the drug dealer in sleepy little Waukegan. He and Vana were eventually caught in a violent drug-related incident. The day Vana pled guilty I left Waukegan forever. I didn’t even leave a forwarding address. That part of my life was over, so I cut all ties as surgically as I could, and moved to Chicago.”

“Good.” With that touching gentleness that utterly disarmed her, Max cupped the back of her head to bring her in for a kiss that made her feel oddly cherished. “You were meant to be here, with me.”

Her insides melted. “You think?’

“Yeah. It’s like I was waiting for you to show up, and I gotta say, you took your sweet fucking time in getting here.”

“Sorry about that.”

“You should be. Since you made me wait, how do you think you should make that up to me?”

The teasing light in his eyes and the smile curling his mouth healed her more than sharing any dark secret ripped out of her soul by the roots. Lightness filled her chest, and she answered his smile with one of her own. “I’m sure I can think of something.”

Much to his delight, she did.

Confession was supposed to be good for the soul. Now that Pari had unburdened some of the darkness she’d been lugging around, she was sure of it. It was as though a boulder had been lifted off her chest, and now she felt lighter than air.

It hardly mattered that she hadn’t told Max everything—that she was the one responsible for putting Vana and her vile boyfriend behind bars.

That part, she would never talk about.

Ever.

Because of Max’s never-ending quest to make her bowlegged, Pari was pleasantly sore as they left the hotel late the next morning. Still sleepy thanks to a plentiful brunch buffet and a man who apparently possessed limitless energy, she wasn’t sure how she was going to get through the day without falling asleep. Max assured her that he would help keep her awake until she had to go to work by taking her to House Of Payne to get her remembrance tattoos done. Since the sky was threatening rain, he wasted no time in loading her up on his bike and riding to his place to switch out the Harley for the truck, which was great planning on his part. The bright sun and warm weather of yesterday had vanished, and as they arrived at his loft the skies opened up and sheets of rain draped the world in dreary gray.

It didn’t matter. Even if Mother Nature tried to drown the world, it still seemed sunny to her. Amazing, how something like love could change her perception so completely.

Since most of her things had somehow migrated to his loft, she was able to change into fresh clothes, but not before Max talked her into showering with him. That led to her being on her knees while hot water streamed over them, before they migrated to the bathmat in a glorious tangle. At long last, however, they walked through the door at House Of Payne just past noon, greeted a surly Payne and some unfamiliar young woman at the front desk who appeared to be sitting in for Scout, and headed up to Max’s booth.

“You sure you won’t get in trouble for this?” Pari settled onto a stool Max had guided her to before turning to the counter to shuffle through the carefully preserved greeting cards. “Payne looked so vicious I thought the girl who was with him was about to faint.”

“I’m here to sling ink, so no chance of getting in trouble for that. And that girl is stepping into Scout’s shoes just long enough for Scout to have her baby. The reason Payne looks so vicious is because Trix isn’t Scout, and that’s never going to change.” Max browsed through the cards, poring over them as if they held the secrets of life. “You were really loved, Paradise. I’m glad to see this. I’m glad to see your parents understood they had an angel in their care.”

Something squeezed so hard in her chest it bordered on pain. “That’s sweet of you to say. But trust me, I gave them some sleepless nights.”

“That was your job, giving them fits while you expanded your horizons and learned about the world. Their job was to let it happen and to be proud of the results. And they were,” he added, holding up a card fronted by a bright, glittery rainbow. “Listen to this—happy birthday, munchkin. Every day is a new joy because of you. Love always, Papa. Your mother’s the same way—I’m the luckiest woman in the world, because I get to be your mom. Love you, sweet girl.” He held up the cards, his eyes soft. “They must have been good people, your parents. I’m damn proud to make sure their words live on. You okay with this selection?”

Pari nodded, too choked up to speak.

It took some time to prepare. Much to her fascination, she was able to watch the whole process. The first step was Max running the greeting cards through a machine that created tattoo stencils—mirror images that would be applied to the skin. It reminded her vividly of the Cracker Jack tattoos she’d played with as a kid, the lick-and-stick kind that had decorated the backs of her hands for her first decade of life. The tattoo stencils were the exact same concept, and within minutes he had the handwritten pledges of love of both her parents stenciled onto material that reminded her of something between carbon paper and tissue paper.

After cutting the stencils out and adjusting them this way and that on the inside of her forearms near her wrists, he was finally satisfied with where he wanted the tattoos to be placed. Then as he sat in his Harley chair opposite her with the padded table between them, he snapped on some purple Latex surgical gloves, cleaned and shaved the areas he’d chosen, and cleaned her arm with some liquid soap and water on a cotton pad one more time. With her arm still wet, the transferred the first stencil, then glanced up at her.

“You ready to see your father’s handwriting?”

A strange calm settled over her as his words crystallized what she was about to do. “Absolutely.”

“My strong Pari.” He searched her face, as if trying to commit the moment to memory. Then he nodded once, as if he liked what he saw there, and pulled the transfer paper off.

Oh.

That writing.

She would have known that writing anywhere.

As much as she’d expected it to hurt, the love that welled in her heart overwhelmed the sadness. The hand that wrote those words had belonged to her father, her dad, her papa. It was so good to see it again, because Max had been right. Her parents had loved her. Though they weren’t around anymore, she knew they would have still loved her despite the fact that she hadn’t done what they’d always exhorted her to do.

Take care of Vana.

The buzz of the tattoo machine was surprisingly quiet as Max went to work. To prepare her for the sting, he held her arm still and pressed the business end of the tattoo machine to the stencil before lifting it again, looking to her in silence to see if she was going to faint or cry or whatever. His expression made her laugh, and with her free hand she reached over and patted his arm.

“I’m good, sweetheart. Let’s get this done.”

“Sweetheart, huh?” His pale eyes sparkled as if delighted by her reaction before he bent his head over her forearm. “I like the sound of that. I’ve never been anyone’s sweetheart before.”

“You’re mine. And I’m yours.” She made herself smile as he expertly followed the stencil of her father’s slanted, narrow handwriting, stubbornly refusing to wince at the needle’s sting. “Maybe we should get a matching tattoo about that.”

“I’ll come up with something.” He wiped a clean blue cloth over the inked area, ran the tattoo machine over it for another thirty seconds and then sat up. “There we go. Let’s get some ointment on that, and then we’ll start on the other one.”

“Wow.” Amazed, she stared at the sentiment—every day is a new joy because of you. Love always, Papa—before he gently rubbed some soothing ointment over it and covered it with a bandage. “That was fast. I thought tattoos took a lot longer than that.”

“If they’re complicated, multi-colored and cover a large area, then they take several hours and multiple sessions. But something like this takes just a little more time than it takes to write the words with regular pen and ink.”

“I like watching you work,” she said after placing her other arm on the table so he could place the stencil of her mother’s writing. “You’re beautiful to me in so many ways, but when you’re concentrating and focused on creating something out of nothing like the artist you are, I can’t keep my eyes off you.” When he looked up at her, the tattoo machine buzzing while his eyes burned into hers, she sat back, alarmed. “Sorry. I didn’t say that to offend you. I’m sorry, I’ll stop talking.”

“You could never offend me when you admit you can’t keep your eyes off me, just as I’ve never been able to keep my eyes off you. But I’ve got to draw a line and ask you to not say the kind of shit that’s going to make me want to fuck you where you sit. You do that, and suddenly I want to be inside you so damn bad I shake with it, and shaking is the last thing a tattooist should do.”

She relaxed. “Got it. No more talking.”

“For you. I, on the other hand, can say whatever the hell I want without any problem.”

“Like what?”

“Like how I’ll never forget the first time I saw you.” He bent his head and once again put the buzzing machine to the stencil of her mother’s handwriting. “It was the day after Halloween and you were still new to the job, I think. You looked so earnest trying to remember everyone’s orders while all the children were yelling or banging on the table or crying.”

“I hate getting tables like that,” Pari groaned. “Luckily they’re few and far between. Most parents are really awesome at getting control over their kids, or at least getting their kids out of the restaurant before they disturb their fellow diners. There are a few, though, that are just blind to the kid-chaos.”

“You weren’t blind to it. I was getting ready to walk my ass right out of all that noise when I saw how you were handling it.”

“I didn’t burst into tears, did I?” She’d nearly done that a dozen times her first few days at the Mad Cow.

He shook his head. “You ran a hand over the crying baby’s head and pulled out a packet of crackers from your apron to give to the mom. Then you hunkered down to take the order of each kid like what they were saying was the most important thing you’d heard all day. You even got the older one to show you how well he could read the menu. By the time you left that table there was peace and quiet. From that day on I made sure I sat in your section.”

That was sweet, but… “I don’t get it. That scene wasn’t anything special. Why remember something trivial like that?”

“Trivial? You were kind, kitten. Patient and gentle and so fucking kind I couldn’t believe you were real. The world isn’t a kind place, but you make it so just by being who you are. There’s something in me that needs your kindness like my body needs water, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure that kindness never fades. There.” Wiping the last of the excess ink away, he put some ointment over those cherished words of her mother, and secured a bandage over it. “There we go—finished. Congratulations on your first ink. What do you want to do to celebrate?”

When he made her feel like she was precious to him, she could think of more than a few things. “The last time we had sex in here, you said never again. Are you still holding that line, or would you be open to some vital points of negotiation that I’ve just come up with?”

His smile was hot enough to set her skin on fire. “I’m a reasonable man. What points of negotiation did you have in mind?”

“I’m so glad you asked. First—”

A sharp knock on the door had them both turning in their seats even as the door swung open and Payne stepped in.

“What the hell, Payne?” In a heartbeat, Max was on his feet and scowling. “You blind? The light is on outside.”

“Bitch me out later, preferably when there aren’t police wanting to talk to your girlfriend.”

She was back in the nightmare.

Just like last time, she couldn’t make herself wake up.

The worst of the shock had faded by the time Pari was shown into Payne’s office and seated on a black leather sofa with Max at her side. Along with Payne, two of his security men were present—one man with a scarred face and the other with scary-sharp eyes that never seemed to blink. And lastly, a pair of uniformed police officers stood directly in front of her, one holding a phone while the other stood at what she thought was parade rest.

There was a reason her shock had faded.

Intense humiliation had taken its place and was trying to drown her from the inside out.

It wasn’t fair. She’d done everything possible to make sure she never went through this nightmare again. She kept to herself. She didn’t bother anyone. She’d left a career she’d loved once it had proven itself to be highly dangerous. She’d walked away from her hometown and the wreckage of what was left of her family without a backward glance. She’d even denied herself access to that past by throwing away her phone with all its important names, numbers, passwords and addresses.

She’d disappeared from that life.

Now all she wanted to do was disappear from this one.

If only the police had come to her while she was at her apartment, or on the train, or even the Mad Cow. But no. Of course that hadn’t happened. Instead, the cops had dropped down on her like a freaking cartoon anvil while she was at House Of Payne, Max’s place of employment and a place so cool it wound up on the news on a regular basis.

If this episode wound up on the news and embarrassed Max, she’d never forgive herself.

“You’re a hard woman to find, Ms. Simone,” the cop standing at parade rest began, and for what it was worth he didn’t look like he was there to throw her into the slammer. Of course, she hadn’t done anything worthy of slammer-throwing, but who cared? She was still the focus of the police. Shame and devastation was par for the course. “According to the detective who contacted our office, the Waukegan PD have been trying to find you since November.”

“What the fuck.” The words ground out of Max, and they were the sound of fury. “Hunting down innocent civilians is something I expect from my old country, not this one. Guess throwing your authority around just because you can is universal. Fucking goose-stepping Nazis coming in—”

“What is this about, Officer?” Payne cut in, as subtle as a meat cleaver. “As much as I support Chicago’s boys and girls in blue, I’m never happy when they show up to land on one of my friends.”

My friends.

Pari’s mortification sank into the realms of black despair, and she had to fight hard not to let the tears fall. Payne called her a friend when her mere presence brought this circus, whatever it was, to his doorstep.

If she died right now, it would be a mercy.

The officer with the phone held out a staying hand. “We’re just doing our Waukegan brothers a solid by checking on the health and wellness of one of their witnesses, Mr. Payne. I get my ink done here, so I don’t want to get on your bad side.”

“Witness?” The word shot out of Max like a bullet and he put a sheltering arm around Pari. She wriggled out from under it. The last thing she wanted was for him to get contaminated by the life she’d thought was amputated from her forever. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Vana.” At last Pari was able to dig her voice out of the shame and embarrassment swamping her. “This has something to do with my sister Nirvana, doesn’t it? Whenever something awful happens, somehow Vana is always at the center of it.”

“Actually, Ms. Simone,” the parade-rest officer said, “we’re mainly here to see if you’re all right.”

She blinked. “What? Why wouldn’t I be all right?”

“Waukegan PD’s been trying to locate you ever since Harvey Nelson changed his plea to not guilty last November, and insisted on going to trial.”

Her blood turned to ice, and she nearly cried out at the pain of it. “That’s…no, you’re mistaken. I was there when he and my sister pled guilty. I saw him enter a guilty plea.” And then she’d walked away.

“Apparently the judge rejected the plea deal for being too lenient. That happens from time to time, so Nelson and his lawyers chose to go to trial instead of trying for another, harsher deal. Since you were his victim and you disappeared around the same time he was released on bail, the prosecutor’s office and law enforcement began to believe you’d been murdered.”

Her shock was so great she was barely aware of Max’s head turning toward her. “Victim? Pari, what the fuck is he talking about?”

“He’s out?” Horror was closing in, darkening her world to a pinpoint as she stared at the officers. Desperately she tried to pull in air that had somehow evaporated from the room. “I thought… No, no. This can’t be. I was promised I’d never have to deal with this mess again. I can’t deal with this again.”

Parade-rest officer looked momentarily sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Ms. Simone, but Nelson’s trial is slated to begin in early April. The prosecutor’s office will be relying on you for your testimony now that they know you’re still alive. And they know this because they saw you here, at House Of Payne, on TV. That’s why we were ordered to come to House Of Payne today, in the hope that we could locate you. Which we did.”

“Do you understand what we’re saying, Ms. Simone?” The officer with the phone had a gentle voice, and it softened further as he lowered the boom. “It means that in all likelihood, Harvey Nelson saw you on TV as well. Now he knows exactly where you are.”

Beside Max, Pari went absolutely still. The painful red in her cheeks vanished so abruptly she looked like she was about to keel over. In screaming silence, her eyes went huge.

Fear.

He’d seen it enough times in his life to know that look all too well.

He might not know what the hell was going on, but there was one thing he did know.

No fucking way was he going to just sit there and allow his woman to suffer that kind of fear.

“You say this Nelson asshole is out on bail?” Max looked to the cops as he once again put his arm around Pari’s visibly shaking shoulders. Once again she got out from under it, this time by jerking to her feet to prowl toward the wall of windows overlooking The Loop. Damn it. “Where is he now?”

One of the cops grimaced. “Officially we haven’t received any word from Waukegan about on that, sir. But, considering the Waukegan PD had us come up here today to see if we could track down Paradise Simone to make sure she was still breathing, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve lost track of him.”

“I have to leave Chicago.” Arms crossed tightly in front of her as if trying to ward off a body blow, Pari stared at nothing through the windows. “I can’t just sit around waiting for him to finish the job he started last summer. I need to leave.”

Finish the job he started.

The phrase chilled Max to the core, just as much as the rest of what she said. Before he even knew that he was going to move, he was on his feet and crossing to her so he could turn her to face him. “You’re not leaving.”

“Max, you don’t know—”

“Fuck, yeah, I don’t know. I don’t know any of this shit that’s going down because you’ve never told me any of it.”

Her eyes all but screamed her pain as she looked up at him. “Of course I never told you any of this. I thought it was done, finished, and I would never have to even think of it again. And heaven knows I would never want my awfulness to touch your world. I’m so sorry that it’s happening now.”

“What the fuck, Pari. Your awfulness? You’re the kindest person I know, so I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“I meant the awfulness of my life. The life I told you that I’d cut all ties to and left back in Waukegan forever. I was so certain it was done and that it couldn’t hurt me anymore, but obviously I was wrong. He can…I mean, it can still hurt me. I have to get out of here.”

“If you go, I go.”

That fear in her eyes was momentarily overtaken by jaw-dropping shock. “What?”

“If you feel you have to leave Chicago in order to stay safe, then fine. Whatever. I’ll go wherever the hell you go.”

She stared at him as if he were speaking in another language. “Max, I can’t ask you to leave your life.”

“You’re not asking. I’m telling you this is how it’s going to go. I don’t know what kind of shit this Nelson asshole put you through. All I know is that you told me he was your sister’s drug dealer boyfriend and left it at that. I’m getting that you told me only half the story,” he went on when she opened her mouth to speak. “And you need to know I’m going to get to the bottom of that. But first on my list of priorities is to get that hunted look out of your eyes and make you feel safe again.”

“I can’t let this ruin another life.” Her eyes filled with tears as she cupped his cheek. “Please, Max. You need to stay in Chicago and live the life you’ve fought so hard to have.”

“How the fuck can I enjoy that life when I don’t know where you are, or even if you’re still fucking breathing? I’ve been through that shit once before. I’m not going to spend the rest of my goddamn life wandering around looking for your fucking grave.”

She winced even as Payne stepped forward. “No one’s going anywhere, so everyone just calm your fucking tits. Max, listen up, all right? The House can’t afford to lose you for however long it takes to get this piece of shit Nelson whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is locked down.”

Max sent him a look that should have blasted the other man off his feet. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, Payne. I’m not taking my eyes off Pari, as of now. She goes, I go.”

“So I won’t go,” she blurted out, gripping his shirt with one hand while putting out a pleading hand to Payne. “Who knows? Maybe it won’t be a total death sentence to stay in one place, right? Max loves doing what he does and he knows how lucky he is to be a part of the House. I won’t leave you to wonder whether or not I’m dead or alive,” she added, turning back to Max. “Even if it kills me, I would never do that to you, okay? So I’ll stay.”

“That’s fucking ridiculous, Pari. If we need to go, we’ll go.”

“At this point, I’d like to point out that the Chicago PD does more than just look pretty in these uniforms,” one of the officers said, stepping forward. “We know Harvey Nelson is extremely dangerous, and we know what he did to you. You were very brave in coming forward the first time around to get him arrested, and it’s vital to this case that you finish what you started and put this animal behind bars. Believe me, those of us in law enforcement want this guy in a cage just as much as you do, so if you’d like, you can talk to us about setting up drive-by health and wellness checks at your residence and your place of work every hour, if that’s what it takes.”

“We’ll set that up, plus she gets a bodyguard whenever I’m not with her.” Max announced this to the room at large, and when she glanced up at him with warily hopeful eyes he decided then and there that if he had to, he’d tear the world apart himself to make sure she felt secure. “There won’t be a second when she’s not covered.”

That hope in her eyes did a slow fade, and she shook her head. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Let me?” He kept his voice very quiet, when he wanted to yell loud enough to shatter glass. That was why he couldn’t understand it when she took an alarmed half-step back. “You don’t let me do anything, kitten. I do whatever the fuck I want, when I want, and however I want. Right now, protecting you is what I fucking want.”

“Remember how I was with the coat?” Tentatively she put up a staying hand when he rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “I have no idea how expensive something like a freaking bodyguard would be.”

“You cannot be serious,” he muttered. “I don’t give two shits how much it costs. We’re talking about your goddamn life, woman.”

“Max, think. I don’t know how long this nightmare is going to last, so forgive me, but I can’t stand the thought of you doing that.”

Fuck. “Paradise—”

“He won’t be doing it, Pari, so don’t make Max any more crazy than he already is,” Payne cut in, looking bored. “This is my responsibility, so it’s my bill to pay.”

Max turned on the other man with a snarl, not giving a damn that he was now in full-on caveman mode. “Fuck that. She’s my woman.”

“Yeah, and she was exposed to this assclown Nelson because of all the promo I do for the House, so that’s on me. More than that,” he went on when Max tried to tell him he was full of shit, “that good woman right there loves you so damn much she’s made the decision to just stand in place with a big-ass target on her defenseless back so you can keep on enjoying your life and slinging ink for me. You think I’m such a lowlife that I’ll let that go on without giving a fuck about what happens to her? The least I can do is pick up the tab on a bodyguard until the cops get a bead on this cocksucker. That’ll make you happy, and a happy tattooist is a good tattooist. That’s all I give a damn about.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Max said, but it was without heat. He and Payne would settle up on how Max would pay for whatever had to be done to keep Pari safe. That wasn’t a problem.

The problem was making sure Pari stayed in one piece while he worked at getting a few pertinent details out of her.

Before this day was through, he’d have every goddamn detail she’d kept hidden from him.

It was another hour before Pari and Max walked out of the Mad Cow to his truck parked in House Of Payne’s private lot in the back. After the police and her new bodyguard—the scar-faced man who asked her to refer to him simply as Steele—had explained their presence to Bosko, he’d tried giving her another day off. As grateful as she was for the gesture, she rejected it immediately. The last thing she wanted to do was huddle up in her apartment and think herself into a panic. As soon as she’d assured her boss that she’d be in to work her shift in a few hours, Max all but carried her out of there, silent and apparently on a mission to find some privacy.

On the way to his place, she tried to start a conversation in the hope of gauging his mood, but when he simply growled, “Not now,” she sat back and prepared for a long, long car ride.

Ironically, when they at last entered his loft and Max slammed the door behind them, she almost wished they were still driving.

Swamped with the guilt of bringing stress and chaos into his life, she turned to face his understandable wrath. But before she could get a word out he hauled her to him, his arms like iron bands around her back as his mouth crushed down onto hers. His heartbeat shook them both, and her nervousness dissolved into bewilderment as he kissed her as if he thought he’d never kiss her again.

If this was how he chose to cope with being furious with her, she had no complaints.

“Don’t ever,” he breathed raggedly once he broke the kiss off, “say you’re going to leave. Those words are to never again cross your lips. Do you understand what I say to you, Paradise?”

It was absurd, how much she loved it when his accent thickened. “I hear you. I just don’t know if you know what you’re accepting into your life when you say that.”

“Do you love me?”

Her breath caught as panic sliced through the threads of hope holding her together. When Payne had announced her actions were that of a woman in love, she’d prayed Max had been too distracted to have noticed.

Why was it fate never saw fit to cut her any slack? Why?

“Pari.” His arms tightened, and he shifted so that he could dive a hand into her hair and force her gaze to meet his. “You left your old life. You wanted nothing to do with it because it chewed you up and spat you out. Now it’s followed you to do more of the same, yet you’ve chosen to stay and put your life in danger because of me. You sacrifice everything for me, so I’m asking you right now as I look into your eyes. You love me?”

Yep. No slack at all.

Fate was such a jerk.

“Yes,” she whispered, wishing she could figure out if this was something he even wanted, especially now that she was proving to be more trouble than she was worth. “I’m just sorry I—”

“Shut up. I don’t want to hear apologies.” His fingers tightened on her hair and he brought her mouth to his even as he spoke against her mouth. “Say you love me. I want to know what those words taste like on your lips.”

Suddenly it was her heartbeat that was shaking them. “I love you.”

“I love you, Max.”

“I love you, Max. I love you.”

The last word was swallowed by his mouth as he kissed her once more, while at the same time lifting her off her feet and crossing to the low-slung sofa. He sank down on it, careful to arrange her so that she sat astride his lap, her knees sinking into the leather cushions as she faced him.

“We’re going to make love,” he whispered when he finally ended the kiss, though he couldn’t seem to make himself move more than an inch or so from her mouth as he gazed at her. “Not fuck. Not have sex. We’re going to look into each other’s eyes and kiss and touch and make love, because my woman loves me, and that’s everything.”

The whole world came to a breathless stop. “You’re okay with it?”

“Yeah.” The answer was so ridiculously casual she wanted to shake him. Honestly. Leave it to a man to accept life-altering news like it was no big deal. “But before we get to that, we talk about this Harvey Nelson bastard. He dared to make my Paradise his victim. You need to tell me what he did so that I can fix everything he tried to break in you.”

“Tried and failed,” she said, struggling not to think about whether or not Max returned even a fraction of her feelings. Meilin’s assertion that Max wasn’t the kind of man who said I love you floated through her mind. That was true, but she was definitely the kind of woman who wanted to hear it.

She just didn’t want to have to pry those words out of him with a freaking crowbar.

Then again, he had been willing to walk away from the amazing life he’d built for himself, all because of her. He’d given her a phone because otherwise he’d be checking on her a dozen times a day to make sure she was still there. He’d even been ready to bankrupt himself to pay for a bodyguard just to keep her in one piece.

His actions speak louder than any words he could ever say…

Maybe Meilin was right.

Maybe she should start listening to what his actions were telling her.

But before she could come to a conclusion on that, she had to get through this next part first.

Great.

Pari should have known Max wasn’t going to give her any chance to avoid the painful subject forever.

“Pari.” His arms squeezed her. Not painful in any way, but also not anywhere close to being patient. “Harvey fucking Nelson. Tell me about him.”

“Right.” Trying to organize her thoughts, she brought her hands up to slide through the hair at his nape. She kept the tempo soothing, because soothing was exactly what he was going to need. “Before we get to him, I need to clarify something. Do you remember when I told you that my sister Vana broke into a pharmacy?”

“Yeah.”

“That was my pharmacy. Well, not mine,” she clarified while his eyes widened. “I didn’t own it. But up until I left Waukegan I did work there as a pharmacist. I have a Doctor of Pharmacy degree, and I earned a fellowship in community pharmacy practice as well. I actually worked at that pharmacy in a clerkship during my post-grad years, and I was saving every penny so that in a few years’ time I could buy it from the owner.” She smiled sadly, so immersed in the past that she didn’t quite grasp that he was staring at her. “This tiny corner pharmacy was the one my family had used my whole life. It was the reason I chose to become a pharmacist. When I was a child, I was in awe of the pharmacist there, because whenever people came to him for help or advice, he seemed to always have an answer. I wanted to be like that, so I buried myself in books, badgered him whenever I got the chance to find out what I needed to become a pharmacist, and jumped at every opportunity that came my way. When I graduated, I had achieved the biggest goal in my life. I was now the person with all the answers for people who were sick or in need. I was the one who would be able to help them when they needed it the most. It was one of the happiest times in my life.”

“A pharmacist,” he said faintly, looking at as if he had never seen her before. “You’re…a pharmacist.”

“I know. Awful, right? Totally boring, and so not glamorous.” She grimaced, vaguely mortified. Most kids dreamed of being an astronaut or a rock star or a Formula One racecar driver, but not her. Oh, no. She’d dreamed of wearing a lab coat and helping people with their sniffles. If that didn’t make her a total snooze-fest loser, she didn’t know what would. “Even to me that sounds lame. But when it comes right down to it, I am who I am. I’m an impossibly boring dork who never dreamed any bigger than her neighborhood pharmacy.”

“Stop that.” He gave her a little shake. “Don’t you get why you wanted to be the one who had all the answers?”

“Because I’m an unexciting nerd girl?”

“Because you wanted to be the one to help people when they were in need. You say you are who you are. Well, yeah. That’s exactly who you are. You help people with the same ease that I create art. Helping people is your art.”

She could feel her face heating up. “I’d never go that far. What you do is amazing. What I used to do was… ordinary.”

“Wrong. This is the kindness I saw in you from the very beginning, so don’t even think about slamming yourself for having goals designed to help people. I won’t put up with that shit, Pari, you understand me? Every damn day of your life your first instinct has always been to be someone’s hero. For that alone I would’ve done anything to get in your pants, but there’s so much more to you than that, so don’t ever again call yourself ordinary. From start to finish, you were born to be amazing.”

Oh God, she was going to ruin the moment by bursting into tears. “Sweetheart, you say the nicest things.”

“No, I don’t. I try to tell the truth, always, and the truth is you’re fucking awesome.”

“I’m glad you think so. But I don’t know if my sister would agree with you.”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“I turned her in. Both Vana and Harvey Nelson, I turned them in to the police. I wasn’t loyal and I didn’t try to save her,” she said flatly, because if she allowed the festering emotion rise to the surface of this never-healed wound, it would probably kill her. “I know loyalty is a big thing with you. Heaven knows you have every reason to feel that way after the way your mother abandoned you. But since this is the day for confessions, you need to know that I don’t deserve the kindness label you’ve put on me. I wasn’t kind to Vana. If anything, I was the exact opposite.”

If he was surprised at the harshness of her self-condemnation he didn’t show it. “I’ll be the judge of that after you tell me what happened. Did you turn your sister in after she broke in to your pharmacy?”

She shook her head, stuffing down the dangerous rise of pain and fear and grief out of long habit. “I confronted her after I found out she’d stolen my keys to break in. There was a lot of denial, then a lot of tears. I knew of some excellent facilities that could help her, and she seemed to agree that she needed to go to rehab to try to take control of her life.”

“Sounds like she saw the light.”

“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?” Her lips twisted into a smile so bitter she could all but taste it. “I should have known it wasn’t going to be that easy. Junkies always lie. Their addiction is such that it compels them to lie and cheat and manipulate and steal. Addiction is an all-consuming master, and those who live with addiction are slaves. Their need for their fix becomes so strong they lose their empathy for other human beings, because other people don’t matter. All that matters to an addict is their need. I knew all this from the countless case studies I’d read, yet somehow I thought Vana would be different.” She loosed a laugh that hurt. “Boy, was I wrong.”

Gently had rubbed a hand down her back. “What happened?”

“I told you that I had the habit of dropping by my parents’ house where Vana still lived, right?” When he nodded, she took a deep breath and forced herself to push through. “One evening after work, I picked up some food from Vana’s favorite Thai restaurant and went over to the house. I also had several brochures for facilities that had excellent success rates in treating addiction, and I was hoping Vana and I could spend the evening shopping around for whatever would make her the most comfortable, treatment-wise.”

“What a good sister you are.” He cupped her cheek and brushed the pad of his thumb over her lips, and it was as profoundly tender as a kiss. “I take it she wasn’t receptive?”

“I’ll never know if she was ever going to be genuinely receptive to the idea of rehab, because Vana wasn’t there. I walked in through the kitchen’s back door and headed straight for the dining room. I remember I was calling out for her, babbling on about how I had picked up dinner, and how we could bake cookies later on for dessert if she felt up to it.”

Again he caressed her lips with his thumb. “That sounds like you.”

“I was trying to be upbeat, you know? But inside I was wigging out big-time. I had no idea how Vana was going to be about rehab now that she’d had some time to think about it. Of all the scenarios I’d played through my mind, though, the last thing I’d ever imagined was that a strange man would be there in the house instead of Vana. Or that he was there waiting for me.”

The faintest of growls emanated from his chest, but the hands that held her remained gentle. “That strange man was Harvey Nelson?”

She nodded sharply as revulsion coursed through her. “It… There are no words to describe how terrifying that moment was. That electric shock of seeing someone who shouldn’t be there, someone you don’t know, standing right there in the house you grew up in…it was just so jarring. And he totally could’ve been cast as the bad guy in a third-rate, made-for-TV movie, you know? Wiry thin, straggly blonde hair and goatee, meth-head complexion with the teeth to match. There he stood, right there in the clean and wholesome home where I grew up. It’s like he contaminated the place just by being there, if that makes any sense.”

Max bared his teeth. “Motherfucker. Yeah, it makes perfect sense. What happened next?”

“He was just staring at me, like he’d been standing there the whole time while I’d been yammering on about baking cookies. Then the fear got worse, because it finally dawned on me that my sister hadn’t answered when I’d called her name. The house was as quiet as a grave.”

His face was so unmoving it resembled stone. “Tell me what he did, kitten.”

“I couldn’t leave that house until I’d found my sister. That was priority number-one.”

“Your only priority should have been to get the fuck out of there.”

She paused, trying to find the words to explain. “Have you ever seen that old movie, It’s a Wonderful Life? There’s a scene in it where the father tells the hero, George, that he’d been born older, so somehow that made it okay for George to be dumped on and made to carry more responsibility than his younger brother, Harry. That line’s always bothered me, because it’s not fair. I know it’s not fair, because I was told that same thing while growing up. I didn’t get to be crazy or cut loose, and I never had the chance to explore who I was or what I wanted from life until I met you. You gave me the room to do that. You gave me the freedom to just be my true self. When I was growing up in Waukegan, I always had to be responsible, while Vana got to be the wild child.”

“You’re right, that’s not fair. I’m almost sorry I put your parents’ words on you.”

“I’m not, and you know why? My parents loved me enough to make me strong. When they died so unexpectedly, I was the one who was okay. Well, okay-ish. It was devastating and I miss them every day, but I survived that blow. Vana didn’t, because she’d never truly been forced to be strong for herself. Maybe it hadn’t been fair during my childhood, but I’m grateful now that I was raised to look after myself. I was also programmed by my parents to always look after Vana, so when I saw that man standing there, I think that’s why my first instinct was to make sure Vana was alive. Can you understand that?”

“What I’m understanding is that your inherent kindness can be used against you, and that from this point on it’s my job to keep a sharp eye on that shit.”

Amazing, how a few frank words from him could touch her all the way to her soul. “I didn’t run. I didn’t panic. I look back now and realize how remarkable that is—that my programming to always look after Vana kicked in without conscious thought. Instead of freaking out, I demanded to know who he was, what he was doing there, and where Vana was. He didn’t say anything. He just smiled this creepy, serial-killer kind of smile and started walking toward me. That was when I knew I had to have a plan to get Vana and me out of there.”

“Again a reaction that’s not normal. You should’ve just run out the nearest door screaming your head off.”

“Getting out was the ultimate goal, and I did start backing away while knocking chairs over as I went. I even threw a container of piping hot Tom Kha Gai soup in his face when he got too close—a total waste of extremely awesome soup, I might add—all the while screaming my lungs out for my sister.”

His jaw locked. “I hope you burned the shit out of that fucker.”

“I did, if his screeching was any indication. We did this ring-around-the-rosy dance around the dining room table before I got him with the soup. Once I had his eyes marinating in boiling coconut milk and hot chili oil, I made a break for it by running deeper into the house. I figured I’d at least see if I could get my eyes on Vana while heading for the front door and the safety of a neighbor’s house to call the cops. I never made it.”

She felt him tense. “He put his hands on you, this piece of shit?”

“That’s one way of putting it. I remember being tackled from behind, but that’s all I remember. My head must have hit the corner of the stairs in the entryway—there was blood on the corner of the first step that I had to clean up later on, so that must have been it. This scar is from that,” she added, touching the C-shaped scar near her left eye. “It…it was a pretty ugly wound. I still have trouble with my peripheral vision in this eye.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” It was said on a breath, almost inaudible as he reached up to trace the scar with his fingers. “You’re lucky you didn’t lose that eye.”

“That’s what the doctors said. As it was, I had a bad concussion, which explains why I can’t remember the actual hit that put my lights out, and I did fracture the zygomatic bone—part of the cheekbone and orbital area, which I had to have surgically pieced back together afterward.”

“Fuck,” he said again, before leaning over to gently kiss her scar as if he wanted to erase all the pain that had made it. “Tell me that’s all he did so I won’t have to hunt this fucker down and kill him.”

That didn’t sound promising, but she couldn’t lie now. “The first solid memory I have after being tackled is waking up in some kind of deserted commercial garage. I remember as I came to, the first thing that hit me was the scent of motor oil. It was the last week in July, so I remember how hot it was in there. Hot and dark and grimy, and there was one of those cool muscle cars I’ve always secretly wanted up on a lift. I was sitting in a chair, and I was so out of it I couldn’t figure out why my face and head hurt so much. I began to moan, and suddenly someone grabbed my hair and yanked my head up. That movement was agony, but when I tried to lift my hands up to where the pain was I discovered I couldn’t move. That was when I realized I had been duct-taped to a chair. Long story short, I’d been kidnapped.”

Again his arms tightened around her, his chest heaving, but when he said nothing she hurried through the rest.

“The guy who took me, Harvey Nelson, told me he was a friend of my sister’s. He then explained that he didn’t want to mark me up any more than he had already, because I was in a unique position to help him in his lucrative business. I was a pharmacist with access to all the opioids in the world, and he was a drug dealer who would be more than happy to give me a cut of whatever we could make together. I said something about not liking his negotiating tactics. He went real still for a long moment before he punched me so hard he broke my nose.”

“Sonofabitch.” He said it softly, but in no way did that stifle the very real alarm it sparked in her. “Worthless piece of shit better pray I never get a hold of his drug-pushing, woman-hitting ass. He’d better fucking pray.”

Yikes. “Things got hazy after that, but I do remember he said something along the line of how I shouldn’t make him mark me up like he had, because people wouldn’t want to do business with a woman whose face was so busted up. Like I said, I’m hazy on the details at this point, but I think that was around the time he came up with another idea of getting me to be his drug source.”

He sucked in a harsh breath. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“I used to have long hair.” With a smile that hurt, she reached up to touch her short tresses. “I’ve never been too into my own looks, but I was kind of vain about my hair. I used to have a ton of long auburn hair that waved all the way down my back. I loved it. Maybe that’s why I still dream about how he used a hunting knife to cut all my hair off. In my dreams I watch it float to that garage’s dirty floor to be stepped on by him like it’s nothing. Like I’m nothing. I always wake up crying whenever I have that dream. Isn’t that weird? I mean, it’s just hair.”

“No.” His voice was thick as he held her. “Your hair is a part of you—your body, your identity. Motherfucker took parts of you and cut it off while you were helpless. That’d give anyone nightmares.”

She relaxed enough to nod. What a relief he understood. “I still wasn’t going to cooperate. I know this is going to sound kind of extreme, but I was prepared to die rather than agree to be his source for narcotics. If I’d given in, I would have been responsible for an untold number of overdose deaths and countless more lives ruined by addiction. Being the source of that much misery was the antithesis of why I’d become a pharmacist, so that was it. This guy was going to have to kill me, because I wasn’t going to give him jack. I told him as much, and he hit me again so hard it knocked two of my teeth out and toppled the chair I was sitting in. That turned out to be a good thing, because it broke off one of the armrests that I was duct-taped to. Luckily he didn’t notice, because he was too busy screaming at me that he had my sister. He said…”

I’m going to cut her to fucking pieces, bitch.

His hold tightened. “Pari. My beautiful one. You don’t have to say anything more right now.”

“No, I’m okay.” She took a deep breath and thanked whatever lucky stars she had for the supportive gift that was Max. “He said that if I didn’t give him what he wanted, he would cut off pieces of my sister until I finally gave in. Then he left me there to think about whether or not I was willing to live with that.”

“He’ll suffer for this.” Max said it almost prayerfully, like he was making a solemn vow to whatever he held holy. “I can’t fucking wait to get my hands on him.”

The very thought chilled her to the bone. “As soon as he left, I worked my way out of the broken chair. In some part of my brain I think I knew I was in bad shape—I could barely walk I was so dizzy. I threw up a couple time just crossing to the door—a sure sign that I had a bad concussion. I didn’t know where I was or what to do next, so my brain went into default mode.”

“What does that mean?”

“Remember, I was programmed to look after my little sister. That drive kicked in, even without me consciously thinking about it. He’d said he had Vana and he was going to cut her up into pieces. That became my focus. I had to find her and get us out of there.”

He groaned. “Baby, why didn’t you just run for help?”

“Have you ever had a concussion? Making good decisions and cogent thinking is pretty much impossible. I don’t even remember how I got out of that garage area and into an interior hallway. The way I remember it, I was just suddenly there, with pieces of the broken chair still duct-taped to my body. My memory is foggy on details until I heard voices. Like that—” she snapped her fingers, “—everything became crystal clear and I was capable of understanding how much trouble I was in. Voices were bad, because voices meant people, bad people, and I’d had enough of bad people. I needed to get out of there, so I started to look for an exit. But then I heard Vana, and she…” To her shock, her throat tightened on a surge of emotion that made her eyes water, it was so piercing.

She’d never cried.

Not once.

Not even during that terrible, muggy night in late July.

Not even through the surgeries to fix her face and her smile.

Not even through all the post-op healing, mingled with court proceedings.

Not even when she’d walked out of the courthouse a few months later in October after listening to Vana’s allocution when she’d pled guilty.

Pari hadn’t shed a tear through any of that.

But now here they were, coming out of nowhere.

How strange.

“Pari.” Gentle fingers ran through her hair before he pulled her back just far enough for him to look into her eyes. “You can tell me anything. Give me all that poison, all that pain. Don’t carry it inside anymore. Let me carry it for you.”

“She laughed, Max.” She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, but it only seemed to make it worse. “It wasn’t very loud, or long, but it was a laugh. At first I wasn’t sure I’d heard right—by this time it was obvious my head was messed up. But then I heard the rest of what Vana and that man who’d beaten me were saying.”

“What did they say, kitten?”

“The man, Nelson, said something about hurting his hand on my face, and that he couldn’t believe I hadn’t cracked yet. That was what Vana had laughed at—that he’d blamed my face for hurting his hand. She told him that he wouldn’t have gotten hurt if he’d just done what she’d wanted him to do.”

“What did she want him to do?”

“She wanted to manipulate me, use my feelings of love for her to get what she wanted.”

She heard his quick intake of breath. “That’s why you don’t like being manipulated.”

“Like I said, no one likes being manipulated, but… yeah. Vana believed I was some stupid pushover because I was nice, a puppet whose strings she could pull. And the strings she was trying to get him to pull were simple—Vana wanted him to stick to the plan of threatening to hurt her in order to get me to cooperate. He’d gone off-script by beating the snot out of me.”

“Goddamn it.” It was so quiet she almost missed it. “Goddamn it. That fucking bitch.”

“She said, all I want is for Pari to help, okay? The only reason I let you do this is because she wouldn’t help me.” The hot wetness in her eyes finally fell, dripping down her cheeks like acid. “I didn’t listen to anything more. What else was there to hear? Vana had let that human piece of garbage hunt me down. Kidnap me. Torture me. I screamed, Max. As he beat me and cut all my hair off, I screamed and screamed. The room Vana was in was no more than ten feet down that hallway from the garage. She had to have heard me. But she didn’t do anything to stop him.” More tears fell as she looked up into his eyes. “Do you remember what you felt when you saw your mother after all those years? I think I might know what you felt at that moment. I really do.”

“Pari.” His voice shook with a rage she could see, but his touch was infinitely gentle as he brushed his fingers against her tear-streaked cheek. “I will make them suffer. I swear this to you.”

“You don’t have to. Not Vana, anyway. I got out of there somehow and flagged down a car. Beaten and bloody, almost bald and pieces of broken chair still taped to my body, I must have looked a sight, but I didn’t care. I had a story to tell and I told it to everyone I could. Even in the hospital as they worked on putting me back together, I kept talking so everyone would know it was my little sister and the parasite she was with who had done this to me. The programming to take care of Vana had finally been wiped out because instead of protecting her, I did everything I could to take her down. You need to know that’s how disloyal I am.”

“No.” He framed her face in his hands so she couldn’t look away from the ferocity of his gaze. “You want to know what I did when I saw my mother after all those years? I told that bitch how long I’d looked for her fucking grave because I’d had such faith in her that she would never leave me with that monster. I screamed it in her face. I told her and everyone who could hear me what garbage she was. I kicked over her art displays and spat in her face. Does this make me disloyal? A bad son? No. Standing up to the person who wronged you, looking them in the eye and telling them they’re shit is fucking necessary. Your response and mine were created in the heart of the disloyalty shown to us, and we survived it. Didn’t we, kitten? We survived it.”

“Yes.” The tears were still falling, but hearing those words loosened the knot in her chest. She smiled at the relief of it, and her whole body seemed to liquefy with her sigh. “We survived. We’re here, and we’re together.”

“Keep saying it.”

“We’re together,” she repeated, starting to smile. “You have my heart and my loyalty, and I’ll never betray you. I know how it hurts, so I swear I’ll never give you that pain.”

“I believe you.” Fiercely he held her to him, and her eyes closed as a wave of peace washed over her. They opened again when his hands slid under her shirt to undo her bra. “I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I believed in someone other than myself.”

“How does it feel, my Max?”

“Weird. And right.” Slowly, slowly, his soothing hands over her back pushed her shirt up. His touch was stimulating, but also strangely healing, as if he were trying to replace the pain of the past with the pleasure of the present. “You’re moving in with me.”

Her breath caught. “What?”

“What do you mean, what? By my side is the safest place for you.”

She stared at him for a long moment before she lifted her arms at his silent urging, and allowed him to pull both her bra and top off. “Max, I haven’t been threatened. If you think about it, nothing’s changed from this morning.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re with me now.” He popped the button on her jeans, then twisted and fell to one side so that her back landed on the softness of the sofa. “You’re moving in.” He slid his hand past the denim barrier, and he kept going until he stroked her cleft. “Say yes, kitten.”

Even as her breath caught, she had to admire the man’s negotiating skills. “Yes.”

Making love.

By four that afternoon, Pari was genuinely sorry she’d insisted on going to work. Once Max had decided it was a good idea to show her the difference between sex and making love, she could only imagine how she could have been enjoying her time now.

It had to be said. Max’s spine-melting, tenderly erotic concept of lovemaking was infinitely more appealing than hauling hot plates of diner food to demanding customers any day of the week.

“Hey, Pari.” Peering through the pass-through as Pari loaded up on an order for four, Bosko sent her bodyguard Steele a narrow-eyed look. “Your hired muscle is sitting at the counter. At. The. Counter.”

“Um.” Pari glanced back at her bodyguard Steele, who was enjoying a cup of coffee and scrolling idly through his timeline on his phone. “Yup, he sure is. Is there a problem with that?”

“People can see him, Pari. I mean, he’s right there, plain as day. Shouldn’t he be sitting in the back corner booth, hiding behind a newspaper and smoking a cigarette?”

“City ordinance says no smoking in restaurants, Bosko, and everyone I know reads their news online.” Mentally going over each plate to make sure the order was right, she tipped him a wink. “Rumor has it it’s no longer 1950.”

“You can laugh, but the Golden Age of movies was called that for a reason, kiddo,” he bellowed after her.

The only good thing about a packed diner was that the first couple of hours flew by. But after the dinner crowd tapered off, her mind wandered across the street. One glance at House Of Payne and the two guards at the door gave her peace of mind, but it didn’t ease the need to be with Max. With a quick glance around her empty section, she took out her phone, stuck the end of her pen in her mouth and took a quick selfie. Then, grinning, she popped the pic into a text and let her thumbs move over the screen.

“Thinking of you, sweetheart.”

It didn’t surprise her when Max answered almost immediately.

I’m WAY bigger than that pen, kitten. But you know that, don’t you?

She clapped a hand over mouth to stifle a giggle before she answered, “Do I ever, big man.”

It took only a few seconds for his next text to appear.

You okay?

She knew exactly what he was asking, and again she glanced around the quiet diner. A girl in skinny jeans and a hoodie with the hood up wandered over to her section, slid into a booth and grabbed a menu from its place behind the napkin dispenser, while Steele and Bosko chatted amiably through the pass-through. “Yup. Everything’s quiet over here.”

Good. Let’s keep it that way.

Time, she decided, for a happy change of subject. “BTW, I just took the bandages off my lovely new ink. I know I should think of my parents when I see them, but all I can think about is you. In fact, EVERYTHING makes me think of you.”

Half a minute went by before his response showed up.

Damn, woman. How the hell can a handful of words from you make me so fucking horny? Come over for a quickie. My cock needs your mouth.

She stifled another laugh as the hoodie girl closed her menu and stuffed it back behind the napkin dispenser. “Sorry, gotta go, my Max. Hungry customer just showed up.”

I’m hungry for your pussy. Can’t wait for you to feed me tonight.

“Oh, my goodness.” Smiling while her girly parts heated in all the best ways, she sent him kiss and kitty emojis before tucking her phone into her apron and pulling out her order pad. Hoping her face wasn’t bright red, she plastered on a smile. “Hi, welcome to the Mad Cow. I’m Pari, your waitress. Are you ready to order?”

The customer didn’t immediately look up, which surprised her. Then the girl spoke in a voice that made Pari freeze from the inside out. “Shit, you really are a waitress. And, oh my God, you have tattoos. What the hell is that all about?”

This wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t possible…

“Vana?”

It couldn’t be, Pari thought frantically. Maybe talking about her sister had somehow created auditory hallucinations. Yes, that had to be it. This couldn’t possibly be her sister, sitting calmly in a booth in the Mad Cow like she’d never betrayed her. Like she’d never laughed while her druggie boyfriend attacked her in their parents’ home, beat the dog crap out of her and cut off all her hair down to the scalp.

No.

This absolutely could not be happening.

At last the girl looked up, and though the hoodie remained in place, the little Pari could see of that familiar face was unmistakable. “Hey, Pari.”

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. The face looking back at her was remarkably similar to hers—Kewpie doll mouth, small nose and large eyes, though the gray irises staring back at her were darker than her own. There was also that smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. And of course, Vana didn’t have any scars.

That was now a very big difference in their looks.

With that thought, the shock began to evolve into a terrible, soul-deep anger.

Vana fiddled with the paper napkin rolled around her utensils, all the while not taking her eyes off Pari. “A lot of people back home were saying you might be dead. But I knew you weren’t. I just knew it.”

Pari couldn’t hold back a scoff. Like her sister cared. “I guess we both learned last summer how hard I am to kill, didn’t we?”

“Yeah.” Vana’s eyes flickered away before returning to her. “You look good, Pari. And your hair… At first I thought it was black, but it’s not, is it? I like it. Purple suits you.”

“What about the shortness of it, Vana? Do you think that suits me too? Not that I had any choice in the matter. You remember that, right?”

“I remember.” It was a ghost of a whisper, and she seemed to struggle to clear her throat. “I, uh… I sort of assumed you’d get a pharmacist’s job somewhere. Or at least find something to do with the medical profession, since that was always your thing. But waitressing…man, I never imagined that. Why waitressing?”

The anger was getting worse, pouring into her like poison, and she couldn’t begin to stem the flood. “There’s nothing wrong with waitressing. It’s good, honest work. And hey, bonus—when you’re a waitress you generally don’t get kidnapped and tortured by drug dealers.”

Vana flinched before she pulled in her lips between her teeth and looked away. “Yeah. I…yeah. I guess I can see the appeal.”

“Why aren’t you in prison?” The question came out more harshly than she’d intended, and it brought Vana’s gaze back up to her. “You should still be in prison. Or do I not understand the legal definition of three to five years?”

“When you disappeared, they lost a big part of their case against Harvey. That’s when my lawyer worked a deal with the prosecutor to have my sentence reduced if I turned state’s evidence against him to make sure their case on him stayed solid. I’m on parole,” she added when Pari closed her eyes and turned her head sharply at the sound of that vile name. “I’m not free and clear of my sentence, so don’t think they went easy on me, okay? I just…I wanted you to know that I’ve been trying to put things right these past six months since you last saw me.”

“You mean when you pled guilty? That was the last time I saw you. I was just out of the hospital after my second surgery to put my face back in place, so I remember it really well.”

Vana’s swallow was audible. “Yeah. You, um… You look a lot better now.”

“Thanks. It only took a couple months for the worst of the swelling and discoloration to disappear, and most days I even forget that two of my front teeth are actually implants.”

Again Vana bit her lips together. “I know what you went through was bad—”

“Bad? Well, I guess you’re right. Excruciating, terrifying, humiliating, being betrayed, permanently scarred, and wiped out financially thanks to the medical expenses… all of that can be labeled as bad, I suppose. So, yeah. Bad’s a good word.”

Vana was quiet for a long beat. “I wanted you to know that I’m clean and in therapy, which is part of my parole agreement. I’m getting my head back on straight, and I’m not hung up on my own shit while refusing to think about what other people are going through, so I’m, uh… I’m good now. I’m not a danger to you, or whatever. Okay?”

Okay?

Just like that. She actually wanted to know that it was okay.

Wow.

Hurt and betrayal and a million other emotions mixed in with the anger, and the toxicity of it almost made her sick. Swallowing hard against it, Pari opened her eyes and looked back to her. “Do you want to order something?”

By degrees the light seeped out of Vana’s face before her mouth flattened. “If it means you’re going to stick around and talk to me, then yeah, I’ll order something. What do you recommend?”

“For you to leave and never come back.”

Vana froze in the process of once again plucking up a menu. “I see you got some attitude to go along with the hair, the tats and the edgy boyfriend I saw you with on TV. Obviously you think you’ve gone hardcore.”

Wow, again. “This isn’t attitude, and I have no idea what hardcore means. This is who I am. This is who I always was.”

Vana snorted. “Okay, sure, little Miss Bookworm. Keep telling yourself that. But if I could have my actual sister back for a minute so I could talk to her, that’d be great.”

“You don’t have a sister anymore.” The words were out before she thought them through, but there was nothing she could do about that. The truth was what it was. “I can’t believe you don’t know that.”

All humor vanished from Vana’s expression. “Pari…okay, let’s get this out in the open. I know you’re pissed off at me. You have every right to be, God knows. But deep down you don’t mean that. What would Mom and Dad say?”

“They’re dead. They’re not saying anything about it.”

Vana loosed a short breath, as if she’d been punched in the gut. “We’ll always be sisters, no matter what our history is. Look, I know I fucked up bad, okay? I own that, and I own that I made some unbelievably bad choices while under the influence of my addiction, and that those choices hurt you. But you can’t walk away from blood ties.”

“I didn’t. You did.”

“What? What the are you talking—”

“I heard you laugh, Vana.” That, more than anything, was burned onto her memory like a festering brand, and as she stared at her sister she could hear it all over again. “I was screaming when that jackhole boyfriend dealer of yours beat me, but you didn’t lift a finger to stop him. I had to save myself. More than that, I had it in my mind to try to save you, even though I was so injured by that point that I couldn’t move without vomiting. When I escaped into the hallway, I heard you laughing when Harvey Nelson told you that he hurt his hand punching my face.”

This time Vana cringed, and when she looked up Pari was mildly surprised to see tears. “It was a damn garage, where all the office walls are insulated, Pari. I never heard you scream, I swear.”

“But you heard him when he complained about hurting his hand on my face while punching me, right? You must have. Because. You. Laughed.”

She turned her face to the window. “I was high. I don’t remember if I did or not.”

“Then take my word for it. Unlike you, I don’t lie.”

Vana rubbed a shaking hand over her face. “God, I can’t believe I forgot what an aggravating, oh-so perfect bitch you can be.”

“I’m a bitch? I’m a bitch?” Her voice climbed the ladder until she was screeching, and she took a furious step toward her. “You’re the fucking bitch who tried to manipulate me into believing you’d been kidnapped by your asshole boyfriend! When that didn’t work, you schemed to have that motherfucking asshole boyfriend beat the shit out of me, you selfish, chuckle-fuck whore-cunt, so you just stay the hell way from me, Vana! You stay the fuck away!”

Somehow she was up in the air and carried out while still screaming.

“I cannot believe the words that came out of my mouth.” Staring in numb horror at the fire Max had started in the grate to warm the loft, Pari sat tensely on the edge of the couch, her cold fingertips pressed to her lips as if to stop the unprecedented profanity that had already gushed out. “I can’t even remember everything I said by the time Steele carried me out of there. I do remember calling her a…a chuckle-fuck whore-cunt. I don’t even know what that is.”

“It’s the first I’ve heard of it, but I like it. Chuckle-fuck whore-cunt has a nice ring to it.” Settling down next to her, he rubbed a hand over her tense back. “I know you’re new to swearing, kitten, but in my expert opinion I think you’ve got a real talent for it.”

“It’s not funny, Max.”

“That your chuckle-fuck whore-cunt sister showed up out of the blue? No, that’s not funny. It’s never funny when my Paradise is upset. But the fact that you got the opportunity to blow your top at the bitch who wronged you is something that should be celebrated, and laughter can be a big-ass part of that celebration, yeah?” He paused. “Did you use big-ass? Big-ass is a good one.”

“I have no idea. It’s like I was speaking in tongues.”

“Don’t say tongues. It gets me hot when that talented mouth of yours even mentions tongues, and that’s not what you need right now.”

Groaning, she dropped her face into her hands. “I’m not sure what I need.”

“I do.” He pulled her back to rest against his side with a gentleness that melted the tension out of her, with one of her arms going across his middle and her head settling against his chest. “You need to stay close to me until this shit storm blows over. The cops will get a bead on that sonofabitch Nelson, and then we can go back to living in our normal, whore-cunt-less world. But until then I don’t want you out of my sight.”

“Kind of hard to do that when we’re both working.”

“Quit your job.”

“After Bosko went to all that trouble of not firing me tonight when anyone else would have? I wouldn’t want to appear ungrateful.”

“I’m serious, Pari. Even when things are normal, I’m not happy when you’re away from me. Now, the way things are with Nelson and your sister, it’s goddamn intolerable.”

Surprised, she tilted her head back to search his face, and the somber darkness in his eyes told her that he meant every word. “Sweetheart, what would my quitting accomplish? You’d still be working.”

His hold on her tightened when she called him sweetheart. “So?”

“So, what would you have me do? Sit quietly in your booth while you sling ink? Would your clients be okay with that? Would Payne?”

“I don’t give two shits if anyone’s okay with it.”

“Max—”

“Look, this is what I need. With you in my sight, I won’t go out of my fucking skull wondering if you’re all right, or if I’m going to turn around and not know where the hell you are.”

His mom.

The words sprang to her lips so clearly she had to struggle not to say them out loud. Instead she sighed and dipped a hand under his shirt to stroke a path along his taut abs. “Separation anxiety.”

He frowned. “What?”

“I get it. I really do, because after my parents were killed my world shattered just as completely as yours did when you were abandoned. After you survive something like that, I know what it’s like to want to keep everyone you care about within reach. That way, you feel like you can be in control of what happens.”

“Wait. Are you saying I’m a control freak?”

“No. Well, not really, though you should know that if you want the phone location app on my phone activated, I want the same thing for your phone so I can keep track of you whenever we’re not together.”

He slow-blinked. “Sounds fair. Though I’m not sure what that has to do with anything.”

“I’m just saying I understand how difficult it is to allow yourself to need someone. To hitch all your happiness and hope to someone who’s completely beyond your control. The anxiety over the possibility of losing that person who makes your world a better place…it’s awful. It’s why I avoided you for so long,” she confided, smiling up at him as she moved her hand higher to rest against the beat of his heart. “I knew if I wasn’t careful, the man who left me such wonderful napkin art—so wonderful I kept every single napkin—would come to mean everything to me. After losing my family in the way that I did, I didn’t want to be vulnerable again. But then you came along, and you showed me that you were worth the risk. You’ll always be worth the risk, my Max. Always.”

His eyes darkened as he stared at her. “You kept the napkins?”

“Of course I kept the napkins. I put them in their own special book so I can look at them whenever I’m thinking of you.” Still smiling, she nudged his shirt up with her wrist and bent her head so she could enjoy those lovely abs with her lips. “Those beautiful pieces of art are more precious than gold to me. Like you.”

“Shit.” His fingers dived into her hair, and she heard the roughness of his breathing. “Shit, shit. I need you, Pari. You understand?”

“I’m glad you need me.”

“Need you so much it’s fucking me up, and all I can think about is keeping you safe. I know I sound like I’m out of my damn head, but I don’t care. You’re just going to have to put up with me being a twitchy sonofabitch until I know nothing can get to you. Can you do that?”

“I told you. You’re worth it. So, so worth it.” The line of kisses she created went lower, and she took the time to circle the tip of her tongue around his navel. As she did, his free hand slid to the buckle of his belt. “And I don’t want you to worry yourself to death over Harvey Nelson or my sister. I don’t know where Vana went after Steele carried me into the back room, but after that embarrassing whore-cunt incident, I believe I made it clear that I do not want her around.”

A rumbling chuckle sounded in his chest. “I’m sorry you were so upset, kitten, but I would’ve paid real money to see you cuss that bitch out.”

“From what I gather, it was worth the price of admission.” She helped him undo the fastenings of his jeans, her eyes already on the promising bulge beneath the denim. “That leaves just that Nelson jerk as a loose thread, and believe me, if that girl-hitting bully sees you or Steele—and you’ve made sure that this is an absolute guarantee—he won’t come near me.”

“I’d like to see that fucker try.”

She stifled a shudder. That made one of them. “He won’t, mainly because of something Vana said.”

“What?”

“She’s turned state’s evidence against Nelson and apparently is cooperating with the prosecutors’ office. With my hair and other evidence there at that garage, coupled with Vana’s testimony, I’m not that important anymore when it comes to getting a slam-dunk conviction on this guy. If anything, she’s the one who’s got a target on her back now, not me.”

“Good. It was her goddamn mess in the first place, so she’s the one who should clean that shit up. You’re out of it.”

“Yeah,” she said faintly, while her own words echoed in her head. She’s the one who’s got a target on her back… “I’ve moved on with my life. You’re what’s important to me now.”

“Good.” He leaned back while she pulled his cock from his briefs, and he caressed her cheek. “Don’t forget I told you I was hungry, kitten. Stand up and get naked. Do it slow, do it sexy, and then we’ll make a meal of each other. The one thing we won’t do is give anyone else—least of all a certain chuckle-fuck whore-cunt whose name I refuse to say—another thought.”

With a slow smile, Pari did as instructed. Her uniform was soon on the floor along with her bra. As his appreciative eyes devoured her while she came to him, it was almost possible to forget that Vana had dropped back into her life.

Almost.

“Scout had her baby girl over the weekend, and she finally got out of the hospital earlier this morning,” Payne announced to Max the moment he walked into House Of Payne. “I just made everyone’s client schedule vanish with a single keystroke. Do you think she’d be pissed if I told her she needed to come in to work today?”

Max came to a dead halt and plucked out the pertinent information. “You’ve lost my schedule?”

“Don’t take it personally, man, I lost everyone’s.”

Today was going to be about as much fun as taking dancing lessons in a minefield. “What happened to Trix? Wasn’t she supposed to keep you from blowing shit up?”

“Yeah, but she scares too easily. Twist and Loki had her convinced their tats were ones they got in prison, signifying all their kills or some shit. Idiots. I have a call in to her. But in the meantime…uh, do you know anything about our business scheduling software?”

“I know enough to stay the hell away from things I don’t know shit about, unlike you.”

“Fuck you. Also, that’s not helpful.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Pari knew something about it.” Max glanced through the floor-to-ceiling windows to the Mad Cow across the street, but he couldn’t see anything distinctly through their windows. He knew Pari was there with her friends and coworkers, though, with her bodyguard no more than a couple steps away. It was as safe as he could make her without sealing her inside a bubble, but it still didn’t make him happy. “By the time she graduated with a Doctor of Pharmacy degree, Pari was managing the pharmacy where she worked. Since that computer system dealt with making sure people didn’t fucking die due to getting the wrong meds, I’d be willing to bet scheduling software would be a snap for her.”

“Pharmacist, huh? Heh, that’ll piss Scout off. She was ready to bet real money that Pari was either an RN or a doctor who was hiding out in the Witness Protection Program.” He hit a couple more keys, then flipped the screen off with both hands. “Listen, if I can’t have Scout talk me through whatever it was I did wrong, drag Pari over here to see what she can do. We’ve got people coming in for ink and I have no fucking idea where to put them.”

Sign of a desperate man, Max thought with an inward snort and turned away from the front desk. Pari probably wouldn’t mind helping out if he asked and she could get away. In fact, he’d love having her under the same roof as him not just today, but for however long it took to make sure she was safe. And then maybe even after that.

Then he shook his head and headed toward the stairs. What a freak he’d turned into. There was a time when he hadn’t given a shit where his current woman was. With Pari, though, things were just… different. She called it separation anxiety, but it wasn’t that he merely wanted to know where she was and if she was all right. He wanted to make sure the world understood that Paradise Simone should never be fucked with, because she was his. She was under his protection, because she was the treasure he’d worked his ass off to earn. Therefore, if someone chose to fuck with her, then God have mercy on their souls.

Because he would not.

A glimpse of purple hair down in the gallery below had him doing a quick double take before he boomeranged back down the stairs, careful to bypass the desk where Payne was now cussing a blue streak. With his anticipation building, Max rounded a white modular wall displaying some of the House’s more famous work. As he reached out to her, she turned at the sound of his approaching footsteps.

“Holy shit.” Clearly startled, the woman half-hopped away from him even as he froze in place. Her eyes were wide and her hands balled into fists, like a boxer waiting for the bell to ring. “Geez, dude, what the fuck? You scared the shit outta me.”

“Sorry.” The word came out automatically as he stared at her. Gray eyes, freckles over an upturned nose, and a pursed little doll’s mouth. The words those lips spoke were way too salty for his Pari, but that was still a mouth he’d know anywhere. “Who are you?”

“Oh, um…” She looked around the open lower level gallery, as if she’d find the answer there. “Just someone looking for some ink, you know. Don’t mind me.”

He took a shot in the dark. “Nirvana.”

Those dark gray eyes, so similar and yet so different from Pari’s, jerked to him. “Shit. Pari told you about me.”

The flash of rage that hit him was so immense he was genuinely proud of himself for not killing her then and there. As it was, he grabbed her by the upper arm and backed her up until she was against the wall, and he got right up into her traitorous face. “What she did or didn’t tell me is none of your goddamn business, woman. You fucking lost all rights to even think about Pari when you offered her up to be beaten half to death, you get me?”

“Easy. Easy.” Her hands were still balled into fists, and she didn’t look him in the eye as she lowered her voice to a shaking whisper. “Just take it easy, all right?”

“Fuck you, and fuck taking it easy. Pari’s face is scarred because of you.”

She flinched as if he’d hit her. “I know I’m scum, all right? I know.”

“Good. Scum is exactly what you are, and don’t you ever fucking forget it.”

“Look, I’m not making any excuses for myself, but the fact is my head was totally messed up with all the shit I was doing. I swear I never would have allowed my sister to be hurt if I’d been in my right mind—”

“Bullshit.”

“—but half the time I didn’t even know what was going on around me. The only thing I cared about was me and my pain. I couldn’t even see other people. I certainly didn’t see Pari, or her pain. At that time, she wasn’t even a person to me. In my head, she was just this constant obstacle that my life was forever cursed with.”

“An obstacle,” Max raged, pushing the words out through gritted teeth. “The night you fucked her over, Pari brought you your favorite Thai soup, did you know that? She wanted to bake cookies for you. She had pamphlets and shit for luxury rehab facilities so you could choose wherever in the whole goddamn world you wanted to go and heal in luxury, on her fucking dime. Obstacle,” he repeated scathingly. “I should be so lucky to be forever cursed by an obstacle like Pari.”

“I know,” she said again, and it was only a thread of sound. “I get now that my sister was always there for me. I get it, because life has been absolute shit without her.”

“Oh, I bet it has.” The thought couldn’t have pleased him more. “Too bad you have to find a way to cope without her for the rest of your worthless life, because there’s no fucking way I’ll ever let you waste another minute of her precious time. You hear what I’m telling you, bitch? You lost the privilege of having Pari in your life, so get used to the fact that you’ll never fucking see her again.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Bullshit. You wanna know how I know that’s bullshit? You’re here. That means you must want to fuck up her life. Again.”

“No—”

“You saw she was happy, didn’t you? When you saw my Pari on TV, you saw she was settling in to a new life that didn’t include you and all your fucked-up, crazy-ass shit, and you couldn’t stand it, could you? So here you are, hoping you can jack things up for her all over again. How many times are you going to force her to start a new life because you keep plowing through her happiness like a goddamn wrecking ball?”

A glaze of tears swamped her eyes. “That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

“Yeah? I can’t think of any other reason why you’d be here.”

Anger flashed behind the tears. “Because I love my sister, asshole.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.” He gave her arm a little shake, when what he really wanted to do was rip it the hell off and beat her to death with it. “You love her? Bitch, you don’t know the meaning of the word.”

“I do. I love Pari. even though she hates me now.”

“Can you blame her? Use that fucked-up head of yours. If you loved Pari, you wouldn’t have hurt her in the first place. If you loved her, you would’ve done whatever it took to make sure she was happy, no matter the cost to you. You’d be thrilled to make any sacrifice for her, as long as she was shielded from worry and pain. You’d do everything you could think of to make sure she was safe. You’d be so goddamn grateful to have her in your life that you’d never let her go. You sure as hell would never be careless with her. And you’d never, ever allow anything but happiness and beauty to enter her world, because you know that’s what she deserves.”

With a furious hiss, Vana yanked her arm free. “Maybe I don’t love her as purely as you do, but I’m still going to do whatever it takes to make up for all the hell I put my sister through. And if that means playing decoy for that bastard who ruined my life, then so be it.”

There was so much packed into that one statement that for a moment it made his brain lock up. Then he zeroed in on her short purple hair. “Decoy? Are you fucking kidding me? Jesus, you really are too stupid to live, you know that? Too fucking stupid to live.”

“I brought Harvey into her life.” The words came out jagged and uneven, like they’d been torn out from someplace deep. “I did that. I know it. Now she went and got her stupid face splashed all over TV so Harvey knows exactly where she is. If he finds her and does something to her, that’s going to be on me, too. You say I’m too stupid to live? Well, guess what, asshole? I’d rather die than have one more thing happen to Pari at the hands of that piece of shit. That’s why I’m here. And whether you like it or not, I’m going to stay around here until I know my sister’s in the clear.”

“How fucking noble of you.” Max didn’t try to hold back a sneer, though something inside him softened a fraction at her determination to protect Pari. “Too bad you didn’t show this kind of loyalty when it actually fucking mattered.”

“I’m showing it now, and that includes making sure Pari doesn’t get as screwed up as I did by having a bad influence in her life,” came the surprisingly aggressive response. “I’m not putting all the blame on Harvey when it comes to the decisions I made, but I know firsthand how much a bad man can influence a woman. After seeing how much Pari has changed this past year, it’s obvious to me she’s got a seriously bad influence in her life, and I’ll bet I’m looking right at it.”

“Holy fuck,” he muttered, thunderstruck. “You must have a pair of lady balls the size of melons. You think it’s my fault that Pari finally realized you were a lost cause and made the decision to cut you loose?”

“She’s got purple hair, tattoos and a potty mouth now. And if that weren’t enough, she’s working as a waitress in some crappy greasy spoon, despite having a doctorate that she worked her ass off to get.”

“She also doesn’t like wearing underwear, and I won’t even tell you what she likes to do with her mouth. Fact is, you were the bad influence on her all along, woman.”

“Me? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Pari was so burdened with looking after you and trying to be a good girl so her parents wouldn’t have to worry about her the way they constantly did with you, she never got the chance to find out who she really is. Now that you’re out of the way, Pari’s free. Free from the burden of you, and free to fucking live her life in a way that makes her happy. You know what makes her happy? Me. And I’m going to keep making her happy by making sure she steers clear of you. So that means there’s only one thing left to say to you. You gonna get the fuck out of here on your own, or do I have to throw your goddamn ass out into the street myself? Please pick the second option. I can’t tell you how fucking satisfying that would be.”

The tears were back, as was the anger. But to Vana’s credit she didn’t let those tears fall, and without a word she brushed by him none too gently and stalked toward the exit.

“Oh look, it’s the psycho.” Lola glanced over her shoulder at Pari as she entered the small employees’ area, then kept her eyes on her while she untied her apron. “Sooo…are you still crazy, or are you, like, going to not completely lose your shit and be a total embarrassment to everyone today?”

Pari stifled a sigh and forced herself to keep her head up. If it was going to be one of those days, she might as well face it head-on. “I honestly don’t know how to answer that, Lola, since crazy people don’t know when they’re going to go off the deep end. That’s why it’s generally not a good idea to go out of your way to provoke them.”

Lola’s eyes widened, her fake eyelashes flying up to her drawn-on brows. “That was a threat, right? Did you just threaten me? I’m telling Bosko.”

“I can’t decide whether to tell you to grow up or to stop watching reality TV where every episode involves at least one don’t threaten me scene.” With her mouth in a tight line, Pari opened her locker to pull out her apron and comfy shoes. “Here’s a suggestion for you that’ll work for both of us—pretend I’m a member of your high school’s Physics Club, and ignore me. Just focus on saving your pennies for your perfect Spring Break vacation and make like I don’t exist, and we’ll get along fine.”

“God, I hate you,” Lola announced, and to Pari’s shock she sounded on the verge of tears. She turned to look back at the younger woman to confirm this as Edie wandered in. “You come off all sweet and whatever, but you’re really a hardcore bitch. I can’t even.” With a loud—and potentially not real—sob, Lola grabbed her purse and rocketed out of the room, leaving Pari and Edie looking after her in bewilderment.

“What the hell’s wrong with her this time?” Edie asked, moving to her own locker. “You didn’t cuss her out, did you?”

“Trust me, my cussing days are over.” She paused, considering. “Unless my sister shows up again. Then it’s pretty much a guarantee I’ll lose my S-word.”

“Dealing with screwed-up family is like watching a dog try to run from skunk-smell after it’s been sprayed. You can never escape that stench, no matter how fast or far you go.”

Pari paused in tying her shoe. “That’s a remarkably good analogy.”

“Thanks. I came up with it after my hopeless drunk of a father, unbeknownst to me, hit Bosko up for a loan that I know he’s never going to pay back.” Edie opened her locker, grabbed a brush from the top shelf and began vigorously taming her dark blonde hair into a smooth ponytail. “Talk about losing my shit. I had this window-shattering screaming match with my pops right out there in front of a dozen customers. Believe me, yesterday wasn’t a unique scene here at the Mad Cow. How are you feeling today?”

“Embarrassed.” Finishing up with her shoes, Pari slid her friend a sheepish look. “There’s no excuse for all those awful words I said. I’m truly sorry I made everyone a part of my family drama.”

Edie snorted. “From what you’ve told me about your past, I’m amazed you limited yourself to just screaming profanity. Nobody would’ve blamed you if you’d knocked the shit out of that girl the moment she dared to show her face in here. Sister or no, she could’ve gotten you killed. She still might.”

The thought was never far from her mind. “With Steele and Max around me twenty-four hours a day, I’m about as covered as a person can be.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get complacent. And don’t let the brats of the world get you down,” Edie added, finishing up with her hair and settling down on a bench to change her shoes. “Unfortunately you can’t cut the family tie that binds you to your sister, but you can ignore the brat that is and always will be Lola. What was her problem with you, anyway?”

“I have no idea. I just told her to stay focused on doing her job so she could earn enough money to go on her Spring Break thing, and ignore me. That was all it took to plunge her into that magnificent scene of woe.”

“Babe, it’s April.”

Pari knew that. Her parents had been gone a year now. “So?”

“Spring Break happens in March. Lola didn’t go.”

“Oh. Oh,” Pari breathed as realization dawned. Closing her locker, she turned to Edie with wide eyes. “What happened? Not enough money?”

“Apparently the people she was planning on going with rented a big ol’ beach house without giving her a chance to throw in. Since she didn’t pay into it, she couldn’t stay with them.”

“That’s hardly fair,” Pari frowned, miffed on Lola’s behalf despite not being the girl’s biggest fan. “Couldn’t she have slept on a couch or a floor, and offered to kick in money for food?”

“They didn’t want her there, Pari,” Edie said with a shrug. “It wasn’t an accident that a bunch of flat-broke college kids rejected a person who had money in hand. They snubbed Lola because her bratty ass wasn’t welcome, and she knows it. Just like your sister now knows that her bratty ass isn’t welcome here. Who knows? Maybe these proverbial slaps in the face are exactly what these girls need to wake the hell up. The way they keep going, they’re going to wind up dead, and in Lola’s case I’m probably going to be the one who winds up doing the deed.”

As Pari smiled at Edie’s exasperation, she did her best to ignore the unease gnawing away in her belly.

“April Fool’s Day was a couple days ago,” Pari muttered, glowering out of the Mad Cow’s front window. “So could someone please tell me why Mother Nature is giving us this nasty joke of a snowstorm today?”

“Because Mother Nature is a demented weather witch who enjoys making people as miserable as possible,” Bosko answered, flipping pancakes with an almost superhuman speed. He had randomly decided that the week’s special was all-you-can-eat pancakes, and now he was paying the price. Earlier that day he admitted he’d hit himself in the eye while flipping pancakes in his sleep. “I wrote a book about a weather witch when I was in high school. Maybe I should dig it out and try to publish it.”

“I’d buy a copy,” Edie announced from her section as she busily rolled paper napkins around utensils. “Does it have lots of pictures?”

“As a matter of fact, it does. My amazing story-telling and artistic abilities come together in this epic fantasy tale of a weather witch from Venus. She crash lands here on earth, meets the unassuming and somewhat geeky hero, and is immediately enslaved by the pheromones he naturally gives off in the form of his sweat. Also, due to extreme gravity differences between the planets, her DD-cup boobs are always bouncing.”

“On second thought, I think I’ll pass.” Edie looked up from her task long enough to shoot a grin Pari’s way. “Aren’t you proud of me for not making a joke about how he started that whole thing off with the phrase, come together?”

“You deserve a gold star.” Smiling, Pari dropped off a ticket for the only customer in her section before moving over to where Steele lounged in a booth. “Heya. Are you dying of boredom yet?”

“When I’ve got Bosko and his anti-gravity boobed Venusian weather witch to think about? You gotta be kidding me.”

“I need to get in touch with the Waukegan PD,” she went on, shaking her head. “For all I know, they’ve already found Harvey Nelson and you don’t even have to be here. Just think, you could be back enjoying your much cooler gig at House Of Payne.”

Steele snorted. “First, you should know that as part of my job I check in with the authorities in Waukegan twice a day to see what the status is on Nelson. His trial for kidnapping, assault, extortion and various other drug trafficking charges begins in eight days. He hasn’t shown up for his latest procedural hearing, and his public defender has no clue where he is. Second thing, my only problem with the Mad Cow is that I’m going to get fat sitting around eating while trying to blend in, but in its own way this place has a lot more going on than across the street, so there’s no chance for boredom to set in.”

She didn’t even try to stop her amused scoff. “Right, because we’re so well known for our exciting red-carpet events.”

Steele dismissed that comment with a wave of his hand. “Those bigger-than-life events don’t happen every day, so in between those times it can be a real snooze over there. Not like here.”

“You don’t think the Mad Cow’s a snooze?”

“You kidding? This busy little corner of Chicago has become one of my favorite places. Every facet of life comes flooding through that door—tired moms with their cranky kids, lovers’ spats, teenagers’ awkward first dates, happy families, not-happy families, lonely people eating alone, elderly couples that squabble while holding hands. All of that and more happens here every single day, and all of it is messy and noisy and nuts and real. The House does have a certain glamour to it, and it should. There’s no place like it on earth. But when it comes to the real drama of everyday life, the Mad Cow is where it’s at.”

“You know, you might be right about that.” Pari looked around with new eyes, before she shot a smile Steele’s way. “When I first came to town, I didn’t give two hoots about what kind of job I landed. In fact, I didn’t care about anything. Working here was just going to be a job that would put a roof over my head and not get me duct-taped to a chair. That was as far as my thought processes went. But you’re right. This little diner is actually pretty darn cool.”

“So’s a pharmacy. Different kind of life coming at you through the door, but that’s something you have the heart and training to handle.” He eyed her over the rim of his cup as he took a sip of coffee. “It’d be a damn shame if the assholes of the world beat you so far down they forced you out of a corner that’s rightfully yours. That’s like handing them a win, and they don’t deserve that. Believe me, I know.”

Pari didn’t like the path this conversation had suddenly turned down, but she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at his scarred face. “Because of whatever it was that happened to you?”

“Actually, I was thinking more about my new bride. If you and Essie compared notes on life experiences, you’d find one or two minor bits of common ground. It took Essie nearly a decade to heal enough to come back into the world, but she did it. She did it because she’s the most courageous woman I know. Nothing was going to stop my woman from realizing her rightful place on this earth—as a designer, as a woman, as a wife and as the mother of our children. She won, and the assholes of the world wound up taking nothing from her. Trust me, the life she’s fought to achieve is the most beautiful place I’ve ever been, or will ever be.”

That was sweet, she thought, absently rubbing a finger over the scar by her eye. But… “Maybe I’m not as strong as your wife.”

“Maybe you’re not,” he shrugged, as if he truly didn’t know. “Maybe you’ve simply found your true calling here at the Mad Cow, and this job is what you need to have a happy, fulfilled life. If so, that’s great, right?”

“Right.”

“But if that’s not the case,” he went on with another shrug, “and you’re here because the assholes of the world backed you into this particular corner, then maybe after the dust settles and Harvey Nelson is no longer an issue, you’ll figure out whether or not you genuinely want to be here. Like I said, it’s a good corner. I like it. But only you know for sure if it’s truly your corner.”

The words resonated in her head, wiping out the automatic response that the Mad Cow was exactly where she wanted to be. It was, of course. She adored the friends she’d made there. The work was physical and constant but not too much for her to bear, and it had brought Max into her life. But…

Fulfilling?

That was something she never thought about.

No. That wasn’t true.

She hadn’t allowed herself to think about luxuries like chasing down dreams, or fulfilling goals, or challenging herself. For a long time now, she’d been all about survival.

She still was.

That was why she’d landed at the Mad Cow. For the time being, it was all she could handle.

But as he’d said, when the dust settled…

A flash of movement from beyond the diner’s windows brought her head up just as Max crossed the street, hoodie up and shoulders hunched against the blinding snow. The moment he pushed through the door his gaze found her, and she was surprised the impact of his eyes locking onto her didn’t knock her off her feet. As usual these days, whenever he showed up he swept her with a quick but thorough inventory of her person, as if checking to see if she was all in one piece. Then he smiled and headed her way, keeping his hood up and rubbing his hands together to keep them warm.

“It’s fucking freezing outside.” Giving her a quick kiss, Max dropped into the booth opposite Steele and grabbed up a menu. “What’s Bosko got going in the back today, kitten? I’m just on a quick break before I have to get my ass back across the street. Payne fucked up and overbooked me because he doesn’t know shit about scheduling software, so I’ve got to eat and run.”

“My poor man.” At first surprised because he chose to sit with Steele instead of grabbing the back booth like he usually did so they could have some alone time, Pari made a sound of sympathy. “As usual, we’ve got the all-you-can-eat pancakes thing going on—”

“I did that yesterday. My arteries will clog up forever if I eat one more pancake.”

She knew the feeling. “Or we’ve got a hot Rueben sandwich with a bowl of loaded baked potato soup as the daily special. I could have that out here for you in about five minutes.”

“Sold.” He caught her by the waist, then slid his hand up her spine to make her bend toward him. “Thanks for understanding.”

“With Scout gone, I’ve been waiting for the House and everything around it to go haywire. You deserve all the help you can get.”

“What I deserve is your mouth. Give it to me.”

Smiling into his eyes, Pari kissed him briefly before heading off to put his order in. Once that was done she loaded up a tray with a mug, a little bowl of creamers and a coffee pot before turning back to see Max leaning halfway across the table to Steele, who was listening intently. Not sure if that was a good or bad thing, she cleared her throat and made sure both men saw her coming before she got there. The moment they did, the men sat back as if sharing a hive mind, and gave her bland smiles while their intense conversation came to an abrupt halt.

Hm.

“God, yes, coffee.” With a grateful sigh, Max wrapped his hands around his mug after she’d poured the dark, steaming brew. “This is just what the doctor ordered. It’s pretty damn hard to do a tattoo with cold hands, and they’ve been cold from the moment I stepped into work. Payne can’t figure out how to adjust the fucking thermostat since it’s now all part of the so-called smart system that runs the lights and security alarms and all the other shit. That means everyone’s been freezing over there since the weather changed.”

“Scout’s going to be thrilled to hear how irreplaceable she is,” Steele drawled, nodding his thanks as Pari topped off his mug. “Nobody planned on winter making a comeback.”

“The weather.” Pari looked from one to the other, not even bothering to conceal her irritation. “Really? That’s the best you guys can do? The weather?”

Max’s brows began to lower. “What are you talking about?”

“A minute ago you two had your heads together, looking like you were planning how best to land on the beach at Normandy. But the moment I appear, you downshift and start chatting about the weather. That’s just… just—”

“If you say chuckle-fucked, I’m going to lose it,” Steele promised.

“It’s unbelievable,” she stressed while Max paused in nursing along his scowl long enough to fist-bump the other man. “Did Harvey Nelson show up at House Of Payne?”

“No,” Max stated flatly, and the response was so immediate she had no choice but to believe him. “I won’t have you worrying about him, Pari. I don’t even want you saying that piece of shit’s name. Not ever again, you understand? He’s unworthy.”

Her mouth tightened stubbornly. “So there isn’t anything going on that I need to know about?”

“No, there’s nothing going on, except you should know that Payne might wind up getting so desperate for help in running the House that he might try to recruit you. If he does, run the other way.”

“Yeah?” Not totally convinced, she studied him with narrowed eyes. “That’s really what you guys were talking about?”

Max sighed. “Kitten, if there was something seriously dangerous around here—like that fucker Nelson—and I had even a hint of knowledge about it, I wouldn’t be casually sitting on my ass ordering a Rueben and bitching about how cold my hands are. I’d have you packed up in my truck and we’d already be heading to parts unknown, with Steele riding shotgun. And I sure as hell wouldn’t keep you in the dark about it. If that sonofabitch ever shows up, the first person who needs to know about that is you. But since I’m not doing any of that, it means there’s nothing to worry about. Okay?”

“Okay.” Bosko rang the bell that told her Max’s order was ready, and she left them to dodge around the deserted counter, aiming for the pass-through window. But as she picked up Max’s soup and sandwich she glanced back, only to find the men were once more locked in intense conversation, their coffee mugs forgotten.

In the pit of her stomach, her unease grew.

Thanks to the unexpected spring snowstorm, the Mad Cow was a graveyard for the last hour of Pari’s shift. Ultimately Bosko gave in to the inevitable and closed up early with nearly an hour to go before Max’s shift came to a close at midnight. With nothing else to do, Pari found herself being escorted across the street by Steele before he took off into the driving snow after having a word with the guard at the door.

The lower level of House Of Payne was crowded as usual, despite the lateness of the hour. A line of customers waited at the reception desk, and with a surge of sympathy she watched a young woman with strawberry blonde hair try repeatedly to give a customer a discount. Pari was just on the verge of offering to help when Payne appeared, his usually spiky brown hair more mussed than usual.

“I have no fucking clue how to do discounts,” he muttered to the young woman. “Why are we doing discounts? What’s the discount for?”

“For making me wait two damn hours to get my ink,” the customer snapped, a big, bald brute of a man who looked like he ate his weight in muscle-making protein supplements on a daily basis. “You’re the one who suggested it, so you’re not going back on your word now.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Payne said, poking at some keys. “Okay, fuck it. I’m just gonna start over on this…if I can figure out how.”

Good grief. “Hit clear, and that should bring up a pop-up window. Input your employee ID number and hit enter, then hit clear again to void the transaction. Look for a drop-down menu marked discounts. If your system doesn’t have that, do the discount math yourself and manually input the cost, and you’re good to go.”

Payne’s head snapped up before he pointed at her. “You. Behind the desk. Now.”

Oops.

Max was right. She probably should have run.

Ten minutes later, the line at the reception desk was gone and the lobby was almost empty. Payne was back upstairs, and Pari had yet to take off her coat because Max hadn’t been lying about the House’s refrigerator-cool temperature. She could only hope no one upstairs had to expose vast amounts of skin to get their tattoo.

Suddenly the lights switched off and the emergency lights went on along with the screeching pitch of an alarm. Startled, Pari looked to the strawberry blonde, who she’d learned was Trix Emmerich. The other woman rolled her eyes and seemed torn between wrapping her cardigan around herself all the more tightly and putting her hands over to her ears.

“It’s Payne, trying to figure out the thermostat,” she yelled above the screeching, while the guard at the door left his post to zip up the stairs. “This is the fourth time today that alarm’s gone off. I know the man’s a genius artist and promo guy extraordinaire, but basic nuts-and-bolts technology is definitely not his thing.”

“Suddenly I’m grateful I spent the day across the street, complete with oodles of warmth, steaming hot coffee and not being deafened by alarms.”

“I have never wanted to go home more in my life. This day has lasted a month.”

Pari made a sound of sympathy a heartbeat before the lights came back on and the alarms stopped.

“False alarm.” Payne appeared at the top of the stairs, and he was the image of a man ready to tear his hair out. “I know that’s a ‘no shit’ statement, but whatever.”

Pari took a breath to call out that they were fine when the alarm blared out again, this time in a rhythmic, danger-danger beeping that reminded her of a nuclear meltdown.

Holy crud, the place was seriously falling apart without Scout.

“That’s different.” Looking bewildered, Trix cupped her hands around her mouth and aimed herself in the direction of Payne. “What is that?”

“Fire alarm. And this time I didn’t do it.” Plowing a hand through his hair, Payne turned on his heel and disappeared back toward his office.

Pari frowned at Trix. “How could the fire alarm go off on its own?”

“I don’t know, unless there’s an actual fire going on somewhere in the building.” As soon as the words were out, Trix’s eyes suddenly went wide. “Wait. You don’t think…?”

“That there’s a fire?” Pari sniffed the air and smelled nothing but House Of Payne. “It’s probably just another false alarm, Trix. The system’s so screwed up by now I’m surprised this hasn’t happened half a dozen times already.”

“Yeah. Still, I think I’d better go get my coat, just in case we have to evacuate. Watch the front for me for a minute?”

“Sure.”

While Trix zoomed off, Pari tried to hold on to her calm, but that was hard to do when the fire alarm kept up its rhythmic blaring. It was all she could do to keep herself from running up the stairs to drag Max out of his booth to safety. Even though she told herself the alarm wasn’t a real one, she couldn’t stop herself from coming out from behind the desk to stare hard up the stairs, willing Payne to appear to once again call a false alarm.

Then all at once he was there, and his granite-hard expression made her heart jump up into her throat.

“Out,” he yelled over the blare of the alarm. “We’ve got smoke detected in the ventilation system. Everyone get out now.”

With the bustle of a few remaining customers rushing for the exits, Pari started up the stairs. “Max—”

“I’ll get everyone upstairs. Just go. Now.”

The last part was barked out so ferociously Pari found herself out the door before she could give it conscious thought. It would all right, she told herself, pulling up her coat’s fur-edged hood while the sideways-blowing snow lashed her and several other evacuees. Any second now, Max would come out that door, snapping at Payne and anyone else stupid enough to interrupt his tattoo session. Then they would find each other through this god-awful snow and everything would be—

Without warning, she was grabbed from behind and hauled her into the shadows at the side of the building.

“No!” The scream Pari let out was swallowed by the alarm and the howling winds. Adrenaline pumped like wildfire through her veins, and with it rode the vicious determination to live. She’d been through this before, and by God she wouldn’t go through it again. She had Max to live for. He’d given her the greatest gift of love and purpose. He made her every secret dream a reality. She’d discovered who she truly was with him, and he cherished the person she’d become. He cherished her.

No way was she going to allow herself to be taken away from him.

She’d kill anyone who tried.

With the fury of that thought behind her, she twisted at the last second and planted her foot against the side of the building. With all her might she pushed back and sent both herself and her captor flying to hit the concrete barrier at the edge of House Of Payne’s back parking lot. She heard a satisfying grunt from her assailant before she worked her way free and readied herself to run for her life.

“Wait, Pari! It’s me, Vana!”

Pari froze in mid-flight, skidding awkwardly in the snow as she looked back at the person staggering back to their feet. “Vana?”

“Yeah.” Breathing hard, Vana dusted herself off and stood up straight, allowing Pari to see her more clearly. “Holy shit, when did you turn into a ninja?”

“Since I found out there are times when you have to fight to stay alive.” As her heart climbed down out of her throat, she tried to see her sister clearly through the sheets of snow. “Why did you attack me? And… what the eff, do you have purple hair, or are you wearing a hat? It’s almost like you’re trying to look like me.”

“We both know you can say the word fuck now, so don’t hold back on my account.”

Ugh. “Why did you attack me?”

“I didn’t attack you. I was trying to drag you to safety. My car’s waiting down the street. We can be out of here in less than a minute if you’d stop being so violent and suspicious and Wonder Woman-y.”

God help her, what did she ever do to be plagued by such an idiot for a sister? “Why would I want to go anywhere with you?”

“Because Harvey showed up here tonight, and it’s my responsibility to keep you safe from him.”

The sudden, startling need to vomit had Pari swallowing several times before she could safely speak. “Impossible. The security House Of Payne has is top-notch. I know for a fact that every member of the security team is on the lookout for him. There’s no way they would let Nelson in without seeing how many ways they could break him apart.”

“I didn’t say he got in. I saw him scoping the place out. I don’t think he knows you work at that diner, but it’s only a matter of time before he sees you and your boyfriend hopping back and forth across the street. The Mad Cow isn’t nearly as locked down as this place, so if you don’t get the hell out of here soon, someone’s going to get hurt. Or worse.”

“Maybe you’re right.” And if what Vana said was true and Harvey Nelson was in the neighborhood, there was no maybe about it. “Maybe it’s time for me to go on a vacation until Nelson’s trial starts. But whatever I decide, the one thing I’ll never do is go anywhere with you.”

Through the snow and darkness, she thought she saw Vana’s face tighten. “I know you hate me, and I get that I deserve it. But I swear I’m only trying to keep you safe, Pari.”

“I can take care of myself. And it’s not that I hate you, Vana. It’s just that I don’t trust you. Because of that, I don’t want to be anywhere near you. I mean, look how you approached me tonight—sneaking around the House and the diner, then triggering the fire alarm just so you could create an opportunity to drag me off to God knows where.”

“I didn’t trigger the fire alarm. I haven’t been able to step foot inside your oh, so special House Of Payne place after your boyfriend alerted the guards that I’d been hanging around.”

Pari went still. “Max did what?”

“He didn’t tell you?” Vana’s scoff sent a vapor trail into the night. “And you think I’m not trustworthy. He’s bad for you, Pari. You have no idea how different you are now, and it’s all because of him.”

“What changed me was you, and if Max ever decides to keep anything from me, it’s probably because he doesn’t want me hurt. The one thing I know I can count on in this world is that he’ll always have my back, so stop trying to make him into the bad guy here. I know what a bad guy is, and it’s not Max.” Pulling her hood more tightly around her face, Pari turned and headed for the front of House Of Payne in time to see Max and several others emerge from the front, many of them shrugging into their coats. Relief swept through her that he was free of a building that might be on fire, and as he looked in her direction she lifted her hand in happy greeting a scant moment before she was once again hit from behind.

Only this time, with the powerful weight that literally knocked her off her feet, she knew it wasn’t her sister.

Since she already had one arm up, Pari had about a tenth of a second to try to protect her face with it. Then the world shook with her meteor-like impact with the sidewalk, her teeth clicking together and her eyes jolting in their sockets. Despite the cushioning of the down in her coat, pain shot through her elbow as she slammed into the cold, snow-dusted concrete, and the coppery taste of blood bloomed in her mouth.

Ow.

But she didn’t have time to think about pain now. Frantically she rolled like a log, expecting at any moment for a heavy weight to land on her so that a quick kill could be made. But nothing stopped her as she rolled to the edge of the curb and nearly into the street. She scrambled to her feet and cast about wildly for her attacker, only to discover there was no one near her.

What the…?

“Pari!” Max was thundering toward her. With her elbow throbbing, her lower lip bleeding where she’d bitten it and her whole body shaking like a leaf, she turned to where her sister had been standing only moments before.

Chaotic marks were there in the snow, along with footprints much larger than Vana’s.

Her sister was nowhere to be found.

Vana.

Maybe Vana had hit her after all, then decided to run away, she thought, clutching her elbow that was now screaming at her. Except her sister was small, smaller than her. Those weren’t Vana’s footprints in the snow, and that couldn’t have been Vana’s weight that hit her. She’d bet money on it.

That had been a man’s weight.

If anything, she’s the one who’s got a target on her back now, not me.

What the eff, do you have purple hair?

It’s almost like you’re trying to look like me.

Oh, no.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she set herself in motion, following the marks in the snow. It was no coincidence her sister had short purple hair. Vana had been trying to look like her, because—what had she said?—it was her responsibility to keep Pari safe.

That meant Vana was putting herself in danger.

For her.

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

“Vana!” Cradling her elbow, Pari ran deeper into the shadows along the side of House Of Payne. In that moment it didn’t matter that Vana had brought danger into her world, or that some hard-hearted people would believe that whatever Vana got now was exactly what she deserved. Yes, her sister had betrayed her, horribly so. But Pari could never be capable of doing the same. She didn’t have it in her to ignore her sister when she was in danger; it wasn’t even about Vana, really. She simply wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she didn’t try to do everything she could to keep another human being from harm.

That was who she was.

A muffled scream jerked Pari’s head in the direction of the back parking lot. Through the driving snow she spied her sister struggling against a man in a bulky black jacket and knit beanie, and as he jerked on her sister’s arm she saw his face in the lamplight.

Thin, sunken cheeks and a pointed chin that made him look like an Ebenezer Scrooge caricature.

Scruffy goatee so pale yellow it blended with his sallow, unhealthy skin.

A slash of a wide, lipless mouth and surprisingly large, dark eyes set deep into his skull.

Harvey Nelson.

Even through the darkness and the snow, Pari recognized that face. She saw it all the time in her nightmares.

“That’s right, bitch. Keep coming.” Harvey had pivoted around just enough to keep his eyes on her while still struggling with Vana, who was trying to get her feet under her in the slippery snow. “Get your ass over here, or I’ll break your sweet little sister’s neck.”

I’m going to cut her to fucking pieces, bitch, and I’m gonna make you eat those pieces until you give me exactly what the fuck I want…

Manipulation.

God, she hated it.

And if Vana was involved in that manipulation like she was the last time…

“Run, Pari, run!” The words burst from Vana as she struggled against the man who was hauling her around by the shoulders and neck. He seemed intent on getting her to a dark blue van parked nearby, but just then Vana shifted so she could chomp down on the wrist close to her chin. Harvey howled while her sister did her best impersonation of a pit bull and held on ferociously, even when he tried to jerk his arm away. Then he reared back and smashed his fist into the side of her head, making it snap sideways in a way that terrified Pari.

“No!” Desperation engulfed her, and with no more thought to how Harvey Nelson was manipulating her, Pari leapt forward. But she was still a good fifteen feet away when Max sprinted past her like she was standing still.

“Oh God… Max!” She would never know if she screamed it out loud or if that one cry of dawning horror echoed in her soul as he launched himself at the man holding Vana. The sound of the collision was extraordinary, making her cringe even as Max shoved Nelson back against the van he’d been aiming for. The vehicle rocked with the impact, and even through the blinding snow she saw Nelson’s head snap back.

Then Max was on him, peppering him with vicious blows while Pari got a hold of Vana’s arm and pulled her semiconscious sister away. And all the while Max kept up his attack.

Brutal.

Savage.

Unforgiving.

It was the most violent thing she’d ever witnessed.

Again and again, Max pummeled Nelson wherever he could reach him, and soon the other man’s pasty face was darkened with blood. As she watched in a kind of mesmerized horror with her sister huddled against her, Vana dazedly lifted her head.

“Pari, I…I think your man’s gonna beat him to death.”

Pari sucked in a breath to say something—she wasn’t sure what—when Nelson staggered sideways. His hand made a sharp move, and the glimpse of light-reflecting steel condensed her ability to speak down into a single scream of terror.

No!

Nelson made a slashing motion and Max jerked back before he kicked out at Nelson’s left knee, buckling it in an unnatural way. Nelson went down with a jagged cry before Max leapt onto him for another round of unmitigated violence.

“Okay, that should do it.” To her shock, Steele came out of nowhere, calmly stepping up to the tangle of arms and legs to grab Max by an arm, while the other guard from the House appeared from behind to kick aside the steel she had seen—the hunting knife she recognized as the one he’d used to cut her hair off. “You’re done.”

Pari stared at her bodyguard uncomprehendingly. “You… I thought you left.”

“After Max and I had a little conversation regarding your sister, I thought it might be smart to hang around. Glad I did.” He tried pulling Max back, but it was like trying to move a mountain. “Come on, man. You got the chance to fuck up the man who fucked up your woman. You’re even.”

“Fuck even.” Max furiously ripped his arm from Steele and was back to bashing Nelson’s face in half a second later while enraged growls escaped him.

Pari stared at him, stunned, Vana was right. Max was going to beat that hideous man to death. He deserved it, heaven knew, but…

“Max.” It took an effort, but she managed to get her frozen muscles to move. Carefully she propped her sister up against a nearby car before moving toward him. “Max, stop. You’re killing him.”

“He hurt you. Could’ve killed you.” Thud. Thud. Crunch. Relentlessly his fists pounded into the increasing mush that was Nelson’s face. “Piece of shit has to learn there are fucking consequences. I’m the consequence. I’m the one who protects you.’

“How can you protect me if you’re in jail? Stop.” She leapt forward as he cocked an arm back to yet again pummel the now-limp Nelson. Steele grabbed his other arm, this time making sure his grip was solid, and together he and Pari dragged Max back. Another arm grabbed him around the middle, and she saw that Payne had joined their party. “It’s okay, Max. It’s okay.”

“It’s not fucking okay.” His powerful chest rose and fell beneath his leather jacket with each harsh breath, and he bared his teeth in a feral snarl at the man on the ground. “This cocksucker dared to hunt you and make you know fear. He nearly took you from me, my woman, before I even had the chance to meet you. I might not have ever known you because of him, you understand? That means I would never have known what it is to love and be loved. I can’t forgive that. I won’t.”

“So don’t forgive it.” Hastily she plastered herself to his front and held on while his words rang in her ears. If she wasn’t so certain he’d continue to Hulk-smash Nelson into nothing, she would have girly-squealed joy. Max loved her. He might not have said it with roses and violins, but she didn’t need that. She had his love. That meant she had everything. “Don’t give him another thought. I won’t either. He’ll cease to be, because he’s nothing. He’s nothing, my Max, unless you choose to make him something.”

“He is nothing. Piece-of-shit nothing.” Still breathing hard, but thankfully no longer growling like a rabid animal, Max at last shifted his glowering attention to her. Like magic, the murderous tension drained out of his expression. Steele and Payne warily let Max go, and he used his newfound freedom to frame her face in his hands. “You are everything, Paradise. I won’t allow my everything to be taken from me. Not ever. You understand?”

“I understand.” It was bizarre, how her world could swing from the darkest despair and terror, to the sweetest, most light-filled place she had ever known. Her light in the darkness was Max, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Eighteen stitches.” Her brow puckered with worry, Pari examined the newly stitched gash that Harvey Nelson’s knife had sliced through Max’s leather jacket and into his arm. “Oh my poor Max, eighteen stitches. And it’s right through the soldier’s cross for Michael.”

“Kitten, if Michael were here right now, he’d be proud as hell about that, trust me. How’s it look?” He turned his arm so that Payne could also see it. For his part, Payne pushed away from the counter in the ER’s miniscule cubicle and turned Max’s wound toward the light.

“Hm, that’s not too bad, actually. Gotta love a doc who understands you have to match the edges of the ink to keep the design’s integrity. Once it’s healed up I’d like to do some work around it though, just to make sure it’s all good. Maybe we could even incorporate the scar into the overall design. What do you think?”

“Yeah, I like the sound of that. What if we add a hunting knife, with the tip of the blade right at the beginning of the scar, and the knife handle heading into my palm?”

“Aw, man, that’d be sick. Wait, was it one of those wicked-looking Bowie knives that cut you, or was it just like a straight, utilitarian kind of blade? We’ll need to know what kind it was for accuracy.”

“I can’t believe you’re talking about tattoos now,” Pari said faintly, staring at the two men as if they’d gone insane. At this point, anything was possible. “It’s three in the morning, we had a fire alarm at the House during a blizzard, we got sent to the ER because of a crazy man wielding a knife, and you’ve got eighteen stitches in your arm while my stupid elbow’s in a sling because it might be fractured. And you’re talking about tattoos?”

“What can I say? We are who we are.” Payne shrugged, then clapped Max on the shoulder. “She’s right, though. Now that I know you and Pari are going to survive, I really should get back to the House and see what the hell was going on with that fire alarm.”

“It was nothing but a lit-up newspaper stuck into one of the external air intake vents.” Steele came in, yawning and looking like he was feeling the horrible hour more than anyone else there. “I got the initial police report if you want to read it, but I can bottom-line it for you to save time.”

Max’s eyes narrowed, but other than that he seemed almost calm. “Let’s hear it.”

“Nelson’s been lurking around House Of Payne for a couple days, ever since his brain-dead public defender mentioned how Pari had turned up there on TV. Apparently his lawyer hoped the info that Pari had surfaced would convince his client to accept the revised plea deal the state was offering him. Instead, Harvey beat a hasty path to Chicago. He stayed out of view of the cams we’ve got set up at House Of Payne, and he was obviously too chickenshit to try to get past the guards, so we never spotted him. When the security alarms started going off because Payne sucks at running the place without Scout there to hold his widdle hand—”

“Whatever, asshole,” Payne muttered.

“—Nelson got inspired. If he couldn’t get in, he figured a fire alarm would be enough to make you come out,” he went on, nodding at Pari. “He’d already seen you get walked across the street by me, so he knew you were inside. He pulled his fiery newspaper trick and waited for a chance to strike when you were alone. He got more than he bargained for when he caught not one, but two of his targets—you and your sister, Nirvana. Again he got inspired, and he used the old ruse of using your love for your sister against you in the hope of luring you into the van. That’s where Nelson then claims—and you’ll fucking love this—he just wanted to have a quiet little chat with you about you not testifying against him.”

“Surprisingly enough, I’m not loving that,” Pari muttered, disgusted. “Everyone thinks I’m a pushover when I’m really not. I guess that jerk forgot I was willing to die rather than become his drug source.”

“Oh, he didn’t forget, because he wasn’t really there to have a chat with you.”

She frowned. “But you just said—”

“Nelson’s lying, Pari,” Steele said with a gentleness that should have warned her. “He’s hoping the cops are going to believe the hunting knife is just something he had on him. But not even he can explain why he was trying to get you into a van whose interior was completely covered in heavy plastic sheeting. Nor does it explain the hatchet he had by the driver’s seat, or the two full gas cans in the passenger’s footwell.”

Pari never knew she could feel so cold. “So…what you’re saying is, you and Max guarding me around the clock wasn’t an overreaction.”

“Not even a little.”

“Sonofabitch,” Max said just above a whisper, and the fury packed into it was just about the scariest thing she’d heard that night. “Sonofabitch. I should have killed him.”

“Nah,” Payne said briefly, though he looked almost as furious as Max. “Too many witnesses. We couldn’t have gotten away with it.”

Good Lord.

“About that.” Steele lifted a brow Max’s way. “Our private security firm’s lawyers spoke with Nelson and his lawyer about whether or not he had plans to press charges against you.”

“What?” It came out as an angry hiss as Pari stared at Steele. “That monster was there to fillet me and my sister with a hunting knife, and he’s the one who’s pressing charges? He… that’s just…goddamn it.”

“Easy, kitten.” Very gently Max pulled her into his arms, careful not to jostle her sling. “Easy. Swearing’s bad for your elbow.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. You defended me. You saved me. You’re my hero and the most wonderful man I’ve ever known, and that…that chuckle-fuck peckerhead got exactly what he deserved.”

“If someone doesn’t make chuckle-fuck a trending tattoo, you guys have no right to call yourselves the best in the business,” Steele remarked, looking like it was killing him not to laugh. “Pari, you can relax, okay? As of now, Harvey Nelson is promising not to press assault charges against Max. Not that those charges would go anywhere, since Max stopped that asshole from kidnapping and killing two women who were slated to testify against him, and got knifed in the process. In exchange for not pressing charges against Max, the State of Illinois won’t bury Nelson with charges of assault with a deadly weapon."

“Are you saying Nelson’s not going to be charged for what he did tonight?” Pari demanded, outraged. Max had bled, for God’s sake. Nelson had to pay.

Steele held up a hand. “I didn’t say that. Nelson’s going to get charged with a ton of shit after everything he pulled tonight. Not only has Nelson confessed to attempted arson at House Of Payne, he assaulted you and Vana, and he tried to kidnap her as well. These charges are all going to be in addition to what he did to you last summer. As I understand it, the judge in that case is expected to throw the book at Nelson, thanks to all the shit that went down tonight. Judges get pissy when bad guys try to kill their witnesses.”

Max frowned. “Is the trial still going to take place next week, or are they going to postpone?”

“Doesn’t look like it’s going to happen at all,” came the surprising reply. “Now that Nelson’s safely back in a cage where he belongs, he’s told his lawyer to accept whatever deal they give him. I guess he’s anxious to show everyone what a cooperative little angel he is.”

Max snarled. “Piece of shit.”

“Yeah, he is. But at least Paradise and Nirvana Simone are free and clear of the hassle of testifying against him. That chapter in their lives is now officially closed.”

The relief that flowed through Pari was vast, but the mention of her sister raised another worry. “Have you gotten any updates on Vana? I’ve either been here with Max or in x-ray for my elbow all this time. No one’s told me anything about her condition.”

“She’s been admitted for overnight observation. Concussion and a bad case of whiplash, but she should be released by tomorrow.”

The relief that hit her nearly swept her off her feet. “Do you know what room she’s in?”

“She’s alive, so that should be enough for you,” Max said flatly, his eyes turning cold. “She’s the one who brought all this shit into your life in the first place. There’s no reason for you to give her another thought.”

“A week ago I would have agreed with you. But now there’s one thing that keeps sticking in my mind.”

“What?”

“Her hair is purple.” She cupped her palm to his cheek and waited for those beautiful eyes to warm. When they did, she smiled. “It’s purple, Max. Do you get what that means? I think Vana was trying to make sure Harvey Nelson went for her, and not me. I think she was willing to make that sacrifice.”

“I know that’s what she was trying to do,” he said, surprising her. “I talked with that train wreck you call a sister earlier today. That’s when she told me her moronic plan of being a decoy to lure Nelson away from you.”

She stared at him, struggling not to light up with anger. Remember he could have died tonight, she told herself grimly. Remember he could have died… “Were you ever going to tell me any of this?”

“Fuck, no.”

Then again, she might end this night by killing him herself.

“That sister of yours is like a hurricane, Pari. She leaves nothing but disaster in her wake. You know this better than anyone. The only thing that matters to me is that I protect you from that…that…”

“Hurricane Vana.” She loved him for it, heaven knew, but she still found herself shaking her head. “I get it, I swear, Max. But as awful as she is, I still would have liked to have known she was pulling that ridiculous decoy maneuver. At the very least I could have tried to talk her out of being an idiot.”

“You can’t stop your sister from being an idiot any more than you can stop water from being wet. Honestly, it fucking boggles my mind that you, the smartest woman I know, are even related to her. She shouldn’t be left unsupervised when there are sharp objects around. It’s a mystery to me how she’s lasted this long. She’s a danger to herself, and she sure as hell is a danger to you. That’s why I don’t want that scatterbrained bitch around you.”

“But still—”

“No, Pari,” came the brutal reply. “No. If I had to do it all again, I’d play it the same way and not tell you what that fool of a woman was doing. I made you a promise, remember? I’m the one who makes sure no one uses your kindness against you. As long as I draw breath, that’ll never happen.”

Well, as long as he kept an open mind about it… “I’m not saying I’m ready to pick up where Vana and I left off, or that she and I should live together in perfect sibling harmony.”

“Good. Because that shit’s going to happen over my cold, dead body.”

“I just want to know how Vana’s doing, that’s all. She could have died tonight trying to protect me, and I want her to know that I actually care about that fact.”

He muttered something in Russian before looking up at the ceiling with a sigh. “I suppose you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t give a shit about a woman who betrayed you and turned your life inside out. You’re so damn nice, you can’t help yourself.”

That made her eyes narrow. “Be careful, Max. You know how I feel about people who make the mistake of thinking I’m a pushover just because I’m nice.”

That brought his eyes back to her. As she watched, his irritation melted away under a wave of reluctant amusement. “Your sister is the stupid one, not me, so don’t go giving me that look, kitten. I know how tough you are. And I’ll admit that if your sister hadn’t pulled all that boneheaded shit she did, you and I never would have met, so… okay. You can talk to her. But the moment she upsets you or does something to hurt you, she’s gone for-fucking-ever. You’re the only one who matters. Deal?”

God, he was sweet. “Deal.”

The never-ending noise of the hospital hallways was muffled the moment the door closed behind Pari. In front of her was a single hospital bed occupied by her sister, with the bed’s overhead light the only illumination in the room. Vana’s hair, a more neon purple than Pari’s, splashed across the pillow, and she lay so still Pari assumed she was asleep. But the reduction of noise had Vana turning to glance in her direction, the movement stiff thanks to the neck collar she’d been strapped into.

“Hey.” At once, Vana was messing with the bed’s controls so she could sit upright, all the while trying not to wince. “I was wondering if I would see you. I was thinking your man was going to make sure you ghosted me. How’s your arm?”

“It’s seen better days. They’re going to take another round of x-rays in forty-eight hours, and put me in a cast if it’s fractured.” She glanced at the bedside and noted no IV lines. “They don’t have you on anything?”

Vana started to shake her head, only to grimace when the collar refused to give way. “Nah. I told them I was a recovering opiate addict and that I was afraid I might relapse if I took anything stronger than Tylenol.”

Pari opened her mouth to offer her opinion that if she was in pain she could chance it, but then she closed it again with a nod. “You should be allowed to make your own decisions on your treatment. I’m glad they’re listening to you.”

Vana stared at her for a long moment. “Wow.”

“Wow, what?”

“You really have changed, haven’t you? I was bracing for a know-it-all lecture about how doctors know best, and how I should stop being difficult and blah, blah, blah.”

“I almost did. But then I remembered a couple things. You’re an adult, and I’m not your mother. So, no lecture. I’m just really impressed with how you’ve chosen to take control of your life.”

“It was either that or see if there was a place lower than rock bottom.”

For the first time, Pari felt a stirring of sympathy for her screwed-up sister. “Yeah, I can’t imagine prison was all that fun.”

“Rock bottom wasn’t going to prison. I deserved prison. Rock bottom was losing the last of my family. But maybe I needed to,” Vana added, so quietly Pari had to strain to hear it. “I’d never stood on my own before. Being completely alone in the world, without you there to prop me up whenever I pulled some dumbass shit, taught me a lot of things. One of those things was that I can be strong when I have to be. I’m still figuring things out, but…I’m doing it.”

Pari swallowed against the tightening of her throat. “You should be proud of yourself for finding your way out of the darkness. And you’re not completely alone. I’m still here.”

“I don’t know about that. Your man would probably wind up strangling me if I chose to make myself a permanent fixture in your life.”

Pari said nothing.

When she was right, she was right.

“You know, I really thought this Max dude was bad for you,” Vana went on, settling back against the pillow with a sigh. “God knows he looks the type. From top to bottom, the man’s got bad boy written all over him.”

“Yeah, he does.” For the life of her, Pari couldn’t hold back a smile. “That’s what makes him so hot.”

That startled a chuckle out of her sister. “Oh my God, did you really just say that?”

“I did. Meant it, too. Max is so hot he should be fined for being a fire hazard.” And lucky for her, he was all hers.

“Yeah, well, fire-hazard hotness aside, I never would have paired you with him in a million years. But now that I’ve had time to think about it… I don’t know. I don’t know if he’s changed you, or if he’s brought something out in you that was there all along. I only know one thing. You guys fit.”

“You think so?”

“Oh, yeah.” Again her sister tried to nod, and again she was foiled by the neck brace. “When I saw you together and heard him say all those super intense, he-man things to you, all I could think was that the two of you complete each other. And there’s no denying your man loves you. He loves you like I’ve never seen a man love a woman. So you hold on to him, okay? You hold on to that gift he gives you, and just…be happy.”

“That’s the plan.” Pari had to clear her throat to get it to loosen up, and with a careful breath she beat back the silly urge to cry. “Speaking of plans, what are yours? Now that you’ve succeeded in keeping me safe from the evil that was Harvey Nelson, got any ideas about where you want to go from here?”

“I think I might sell the house, if you’re okay with that,” she added, brows raised. When Pari nodded, a corner of Vana’s mouth curled. “Believe it or not, I’d like to take another crack at school, but I want to do it somewhere warmer. New city, new purpose, new life. I want a do-over on this whole adulting thing.”

Pari couldn’t help but smile. “Sounds like a good plan.”

“And you? Are you still planning on spending your life as a waitress at the Mad Cow?”

“Don’t go hating on the Mad Cow. Waitressing is a great job if you can find the right place and people who care about you.”

“And like you said, it won’t get you kidnapped, taped to a chair and beaten half to death.” The smile that had been lurking at the corners of Vana’s mouth vanished, and she lowered her eyes to her lap. “So that’s it? That’s the one thing I broke in you so completely that I can’t put it back the way it was?”

“Don’t.” She touched her sister’s hand before she thought to check the move. They weren’t back to where they’d once been—they never would be after everything that had happened—but Pari wasn’t sorry for reaching out when Vana’s hand flipped over to hold onto hers. “Bad things happened, and those bad things left scars on both of us—the kind you can see, and the kind you can’t. But that doesn’t mean something is forever broken. I’ve healed, Vana. I’m not broken. What I am is different now, but that’s not a bad thing.”

A tear rolled down her sister’s pale cheek. “I robbed you of the life you wanted.”

There was a time when the genuine guilt in her sister’s tone would have given her vicious satisfaction, but now all it did was hurt her heart. “I don’t know that my old life would fit the person I’ve become. Don’t get me wrong, there was nothing wrong with the old me. But I’m a very different person now.”

“Yeah. A waitress with a now-useless doctorate.”

“Who knows what I’ll want to do a year from now? The Mad Cow was what I needed when I first came here, and I’m enjoying myself. I don’t know how long I’ll stay there, but I have no regrets about where I am now or what my life is like. Not one.”

“Yeah?” Vana brought her gaze back to Pari, and she saw they were still filled with tears. “Does that mean you’re, you know…happy? That’s important to me, Pari. It’s important to me not just because I ruined the life you’d worked so hard to build for yourself back in Waukegan, but because I love you. I love you and I want you to be happy.”

Those words rocked through her, and it both broke her heart and mended it all at once to realize she couldn’t remember her sister ever telling her that.

No doubt about it, this adulting thing was a good look for Vana.

“I’m very happy where I am now,” she whispered, and her fingers tightened on Vana’s. “In fact, I can’t remember a time when I’ve ever been this happy. So you can stop worrying about me now, okay? Believe me, I’m exactly where I want to be.”

And the place where she wanted to be was with Max.

The sun was only an hour away from making its appearance in the east by the time Pari and Max pushed through the loft’s front door. Snow was still falling beyond the windows and spring once again seemed a million miles away, but at that moment Pari didn’t care.

They were safe.

They were together.

Nothing else mattered.

“All I want to do is wash the hospital smell off and sleep the clock around,” Max said, locking the door behind them. With great care, he helped her out of her coat, then bent to help her out of her snow boots. “You game for that?”

“That sounds like my personal definition of heaven, sweetheart.”

It took a while to work her out of her uniform, but at last they made it into the shower together and helped each other get clean. As they did, Pari had a sense that they were washing away the darkness they had gone through as well as the sweat and antiseptic smell that clung to them. It was the most healing sensation she could ever remember feeling.

Climbing into bed and snuggling down into the pillows next to Max for nothing more than comfort and sleep was a first for them. Usually they exhausted themselves with mind-blowing sex before falling asleep, and she had to smile even as she let him arrange a pillow under her elbow.

“What?” He touched a finger to the corner of her mouth before settling beside her and pulling her to his side so she could use his chest for a pillow. “What’s the smile for?”

“We’re acting like an old married couple, going to bed to just sleep. And I’m smiling because it’s giving me the warm fuzzies and an overwhelming urge to cuddle.”

A chuckle rumbled beneath her ear. “Yeah, we’re too banged up to bang.”

“That’s it in a nutshell.”

“That’s cool. If our respective arms are feeling better tomorrow morning, we can make up for the lack of action tonight. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy your warm fuzzies.”

“I’m with you. That’s pretty much a guarantee.”

“My sweet kitten says the nicest things.” The arm he’d curled around her tightened, and he turned his head to nuzzle his lips against her hair. “You know, I can just imagine us as an old married couple. You’ll be telling me all the best ways to treat my arthritis, and I won’t be able to hear you because I’ve fucked up my hearing from too many years of listening to shitty music on shittier earbuds.”

“Maybe we should start learning sign language now, just in case.”

“Growing old with you,” he murmured, and the low purr of his voice somehow had the magical ability to drain the tension right out of her. “I never really thought about that kind of shit, you know? Not sentimental enough, I guess. Just not my thing.”

The warm fuzzies died, and in its place grew a quietly suffocating lake of ice. What was he trying to tell her? That after seeing how insane her life was firsthand, he couldn’t imagine growing old with her? “I…guess I can see that. For the past year or so I’ve been the same way, and I want to do what you said—leave the past behind me and stop looking for promises in the future. You were right when you said it’s best to focus on living in the moment, enjoy it for what it is, and not think about tomorrow.”

“No I wasn’t,” came the blunt reply. “I was right about leaving the shit past in the past. And yeah, it’s understandable that living from day to day is all anyone can do after they’ve gone through hell and back. But tonight has given me a new perspective, and it needs to give you a new perspective too.”

“New perspective?”

“I could have lost you. I could have been lost to you. You could have been taken from me before I got the chance to even know you existed. I can’t stop thinking about that—I could have lost you before I got the chance to love you. That fucking chills me to the bone.”

“There it is again,” she whispered while a thrill of joy ran riot through her. It was better than Christmas, better than a dream. This was reality, and it was such a piercingly sweet moment it took her breath away. “I’d thought all the madness that was going on had gotten to you, but you just said it again.”

“Said what?”

Ugh. Men. “That you love me.”

He looked at her as if she’d lost her marbles. “Of course I love you. Why the hell do you think I’m so crazy now? I can’t fucking think straight when it comes to you.”

“It’s just nice to know I’m not alone in the crazy-in-love department.” She tilted her head back to smile into his beautiful eyes. “Say it again. I like the sound of it.”

The smile in his eyes brought the warm fuzzies back with a vengeance. “I love you so much you’re going to get sick of hearing me say I love you.”

“Impossible.”

“Don’t be so sure.” He leaned in to touch his lips to her brow, a gesture so tender it broke her in the best possible way. “You’re going to be hearing me say I love you for the rest of our lives.”

“I could never get tired of hearing those words from you.” Then the enormity of what he said sank in. “Wait, what? The rest of our lives?”

“I’m done with living in the moment, kitten. Something happened to me tonight—call it a reality check or whatever. Tonight made me realize how grateful I am for all the beauty and joy you’ve brought to my life, and I never, ever want that shit to come to an end. Once that thought hit me, that’s all there is in my head. I can’t stop thinking about tomorrow, and next week, and next year, and next decade. And you know what’s amazing? Every future moment I think about, I see you.”

An invisible fist squeezed around her heart, and it was such a sweet ache it made her eyes sting with tears. “You see me, huh? Do you see anything else?”

“Happiness. Belonging. Family.” Between each word he brushed her face with his lips, and she felt each touch all the way to her soul. “I see forever in you.”

The wet warmth in her eyes spilled over as she arched up to his mouth. “Good. Because forever with me is exactly what you’re going to get.”

Several years later

“We’ve hit a milestone,” Payne announced to a small bevy of journalists gathered outside the House Of Payne gift shop. “House Of Payne’s exclusive, FDA-approved Perfect Ink tattoo aftercare kit, a three-step process guaranteed to work on everything from soothing the normal irritation after getting a tattoo, to that unexpected allergic reaction to ink, has just sold its one-millionth unit. This kit has been our number-one online seller for three years running, and we just closed a deal on trademark rights in China for this exclusive, patented product. It was developed by a member of our House Of Payne family, a brilliant pharmacist, the wife of one of our tattooists and a good friend of mine. Ladies and gentlemen, it’s my pleasure to introduce Paradise Kulagin, who’s here to answer any of your questions about this product, and to explain where we’re going from here.”

Pari hadn’t expected anyone to applaud when she stepped up beside Payne. That was why she glanced up quickly to the mezzanine level when boisterous shouts and clapping sounded. Looking down over the chrome-topped glass railing, Max stood with their squirming three-year-old daughter, Summer in his arms. Next to him was Edie and Bosko—who now wore T-shirts even in winter to show off the tattoos he could get since the House used a topical numbing cream Pari had put together just for his hypersensitive skin. Edie gave her a thumbs-up while she gently rocked the stroller holding Michael, Pari’s six-month-old son. With the exception of her snoozing boy, they were all smiling down at her, with Summer wildly waving and yelling, “Mama! Mama!”

She answered to a lot of things these days.

Entrepreneur.

Inventor.

Patent-holder.

Mrs. Kulagin.

Mama.

When it came to titles, Mrs. Kulagin and Mama were by far her favorites.

Ten minutes later, the press conference was over and her personal cheerleading squad had migrated downstairs. She met them halfway across the lobby, holding her arms out so Summer could scamper into them. Her little girl had her father’s vivid blue eyes and blonde hair, but her mouth and fair skin had come from Pari. Her firstborn never failed to dazzle her. Every time she looked at Summer, she could only marvel at what a perfect melding she was of her two loving parents.

“We saw you talking to all the people, Mama.” Summer squeezed her neck before clinging to her side like a baby koala. “Did you see me waving?”

“I did, baby girl. You did such a good job getting my attention.” Heart melting, Pari gave her daughter a kiss before she leaned into Max, who wrapped his arms around them both. His girls, he called them, and it made Pari’s heart spin every time. “See, Max? That wasn’t so painful. All you have to do when Payne gets on one of his media kicks is just relax and go with the flow. Easy-peasy.”

“Yeah, except for one thing.” Max dipped his head so that his lips were right next to her ear. “I noticed you didn’t tell the reporters the entire story of why you were inspired to create your tattoo aftercare kit. Or did I miss hearing the tale of how you broke out in a rash between your thighs after I put your Paradise Found tattoos there?”

She rolled her eyes. “Like I’m really going to tell them about that.”

“You should have also told them that Payne thinks you might actually be a goddess for coming up with that kit. And he’s right,” Max added before he kissed the side of her neck. The sweep of his tongue against her skin made her tingle in all the right places, and she was suddenly very happy her off-the-shoulder midnight violet sweater dress was dark enough to cover the tightening of her nipples. With the exception of a strapless, corset-style bra, she wore nothing beneath her dress, a habit that delighted Max to this day. “You are a goddess. My goddess. I’m so proud of you, kitten.”

The heat he sparked within her mellowed and sweetened, and she backed up just far enough to smile into his eyes. “You made it all possible, my Max.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Whose idea was it to put the kit together, get the patents on it and present it to Payne in one tidy bundle? All I did was mix up the compounds to make a rash go away so we could get busy making babies.” She whispered that last bit against his ear. Like all kids everywhere, Summer had that special knack of repeating the most embarrassing comments she’d heard from her parents with her volume stuck on high.

Max shook his head. “I didn’t do a damn thing. There’s no way I’m going to take the bows for my woman’s genius.”

“Genius? I knew Pari was a genius when I hired her all those years ago.” Bosko and Edie joined them after maneuvering the stroller down the stairs, with Edie now holding a sleepily blinking Michael. “One of the best moves I ever made was hiring her. I was just sorry she left the Mad Cow to go off to become a gazillionaire inventor.”

“Hey, wait a minute, pal.” With Michael held firmly on one hip, Edie bumped her free hip against Bosko’s. “I thought the best move you ever made was realizing I was actually a woman, and not some best-buddy, non-dude you used to joke around with.”

“I still joke around with you, babe.” Bosko snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her close to kiss her cheek. “Just last night we were talking about how much fun it would be for you to dress up as Slave Princess Leia for our wedding, remember? Remember how you laughed and laughed?”

Edie snorted. “Yeah, I’m still laughing at that one.”

“I can’t believe you’re still trying to figure out what you’re going to wear for the wedding.” Handing Summer over to Max, Pari gently took Michael from Edie and kissed his fuzzy dark blonde head. “What happened to dressing up as zombies? I was so into that Walking Dead theme you were talking about.”

“I was too, but then my mother went on a Catholic rant about it being ungodly, or whatever,” Edie said, her tone long-suffering. “She hung up on me when I reminded her that since she hadn’t even seen the inside of a church in ten years and was working on her third live-in boy-toy, she didn’t have any room to talk. I still say we elope.”

“Yeah, but then my mother would never speak to us again,” Bosko reminded her, then blinked. “Wait. This plan has possibilities.”

“Whatever you decide, just make sure you make it your day, and fu—I mean, eff all the rest,” Max said, looking pained as he corrected himself before sending a puppy-eyed look Pari’s way. She made a sympathetic sound and cuddled her man closer. It was so hard for him, curbing a lifelong swearing habit that flowed from him as easily as breathing. But he did it out of love for his children, because even he had to admit it wouldn’t be a good look for Summer and Michael to hit kindergarten with the foulest mouths the world had ever seen. “The day I married Pari is one of the most perfect memories I have, because we made sure it was about us. We avoided annoyances by sitting down together and figuring out first what we didn’t want to deal with, and then we moved on from there.”

“It really was a perfect day.” Pari smiled, thinking of the Harley-Davidson themed wedding that included a procession of Harleys along Randolph Street and through the center of the Great Lawn under the trellis at Pritzker Pavilion. A wide carpet that looked like roadway had been their “aisle.” The head of the rumbling, engine-revving, chrome-reflecting procession had been their wedding party—Max, Steele, Payne, and of all people, Bosko.

For his part, Bosko had practiced riding a motorcycle for over a month. Because of that, he now belonged to a wonderfully geeky version of a motorcycle club that met every other weekend to map out road trips to regional Comic-Cons, or to just play a rousing game of D and D.

Only in Chicago.

Her bridesmaids had ridden on the backs of those Harleys—Scout with Payne, Meilin with Bosko, and the creator of Pari’s strapless white and purple wedding dress, Steele’s gifted and beautiful wife, Essie, rode with her husband. As for Pari, she had ridden in with her maid of honor Edie, who had also learned how to ride for the occasion. Unbeknownst to Pari, it was during this time that Edie and Bosko had fallen in love not just with motorcycles, but also with each other. When Pari looked at them now, she could only wonder why it had taken them so long to realize they were a matched set.

It had been a unique and love-filled ceremony, and there hadn’t been a hint of drama that usually came with such events. To this day, Pari was certain it was because there hadn’t been any biological family members in attendance.

To say that she’d snubbed Vana would have been an inaccuracy. Once she and Max had decided to tie the knot, Pari had contacted her sister right away to let her know her life would be changing for the better. Vana had been happy for her and had point-blank asked if her presence would be a problem for Max. When Pari had hesitated, Vana immediately bridged the gap by assuring her that while she’d love to be there and wished them well, she thought it would be best to remain in school at the U of A. When Pari told Max that her sister had volunteered to stay in Arizona, he’d appeared reluctantly impressed and announced that working toward a PhD in psychology was doing Vana a world of good.

As time had gone on—and as long as her sister stayed a thousand-plus miles away from Chicago—Vana had become increasingly okay in Max’s book.

After Pari and Max said their farewells at House Of Payne, they loaded up the kids in the SUV Max had traded his truck in for, and headed for home. Payne had given Max the rest of the day off to celebrate with Pari, and once she got the children fed and settled down for a nap, she headed out into the living room. Cardboard boxes were scattered around the loft, sure signs that they were serious about moving. Pari still wasn’t sure where they were going to wind up, but both she and Max agreed that settling down in the ‘burbs wasn’t for them. Not only did they both hate the idea of commuting, the fact was the city of Chicago was simply the best fit for who they were.

But the loft wasn’t a good fit, either. With two young children, a busy home business that required an office, and an art studio with ample sunlight that was absolutely necessary for Max, they had officially run out of room. They’d been searching for the right place to land ever since she’d found out she was pregnant with Michael, but she was beginning to think they were never going to find a place to call home.

“Your sister’s going batshit online,” Max announced as she slid in beside him on the couch. He was leaning over a laptop on the coffee table, the screen’s bluish glow bathing his bearded face as he grinned at whatever he was reading. The moment she was within reach, he put an arm around her and pulled her close, something he always did when she was near. It was as though he had to be in physical contact with her, and she didn’t mind it in the least. “The yoga studio she and her man have been wanting to add to their rehab clinic in Sedona is officially open. Apparently she can now align chakras and delve for the purity of inner peace for their clientele with more focus than ever before.” Chuckling, he shook his head. “She is one crazy-ass crackpot, you know that?”

“Hey, that’s my sister you’re talking about. Only I get to call her a crackpot.” Smiling, she read Vana’s post that bubbled over with happiness, and clicked through the accompanying photos. The exclusive rehab clinic she and her husband had opened two years earlier in the red-rock cradle of Sedona, Arizona had become a healing oasis where the clinical met the spiritual. From the time the rehab clinic had opened its doors they’d had every room filled, and with a ninety-percent success rate for getting their clients back to living a clean and purpose-driven life, Pari could honestly say that Vana—or Dr. Nirvana, as she now insisted on being called—had found her place in the world.

Nothing could have made Pari happier.

“I guess I can finally stop worrying about her coming back to Chicago to be a pain in my ass.” Resting his chin on her shoulder, Max scanned the pictures with her. “She’s put down some serious fucking roots out there in Sedona, a good sixteen-hundred beautiful miles away. Namaste, bitch.”

She failed miserably at stifling a chuckle. “Getting all the swearing out of your system while you can?”

He grinned back at her. “I am who I am, kitten. But even I have to laugh when I hear myself talking like you used to when we first met.”

“What do you mean, used to? I still have a G-rated mouth.”

“Talking, maybe. But not in action. When it comes to action, this particular viewer gives your mouth a triple-X rating with a side order of five stars.”

Her whole body flushed. “Sounds like you’re quite a fan.”

“Oh, I am.” He turned her so their lips could meet a moment before he wrapped his arms around her and fell sideways onto the couch, bringing her with him. As she wriggled herself into a more comfortable position on his chest, she felt the hardness of his cock begin to swell against her pelvis. “I love that talented mouth of yours.”

All at once it was hard to breathe. “Then I suggest we go into the bedroom for a little privacy, so I can show off my talents to the best of my ability.”

“No one’s around to see us.” His hands had moved down to cup her booty, and he pressed her into the slow, sexy grind of his hips. “We have plenty of privacy, kitten.”

“Until Summer bounds out, claiming she’s been all the way to sleep in the eight minutes since I put her down for a nap.”

The hungry pressure of his hands lessened. “Yeah. That sounds like something she’d do.”

“Yes, it does.”

“She’s too much like her papa,” he said with no small amount of pride, his eyes lighting up the way they always did when he spoke of his firstborn. “She has no fucks to give when it comes to being a good girl. Breaking rules is so much more fun than naps.”

She brushed her thumb over his lips, loving their texture. “I’m glad you see the similarities.”

“They’re hard to miss. My little girl is just like me—a real handful.” The delight in his voice made her smile as he rolled to his feet, then held out a hand to her. “So, how about it, Mrs. Kulagin? You ready to find some privacy with your handful of a husband?”

“Absolutely.” Her smile deepened as he pulled her to her feet, reveling in how he loved calling her Mrs. Kulagin. It had started the day of their wedding, and the thrill of hearing him say it with that look of claiming in his eyes never failed to fill her with warmth. “Though let’s be honest here, sweetheart. You’re not just a handful. You’re more like two handfuls. That’s one of the reasons why I married you.”

As she sashayed into their room with Max by her side, his low chuckle drowned out the laptop’s email chime.

“The moment I got the notice, I just had to get in contact with you. I haven’t even shown it to any other clients yet. I knew I had to give you first bite at the apple.”

Max tried not to sigh out loud. Janice Marsh, the realtor they’d been working with since what felt like forever, practically danced out of the elevator. A stupid look for anyone, but especially a wizened old lady who looked like she should be baking cookies for her grandchildren back in the old country. Resigned to his fate, Max followed in the crazy woman’s wake, trading veiled glances with Pari and trying to convey to her without words that if this realtor thought her enthusiasm was going to somehow sway them into buying a piece of cold shit on toast just so they wouldn’t make her sad, she was doomed to disappointment.

Grabbing for his hand, Pari delicately cleared her throat. “We’re thrilled that you’re thrilled, or course, Janice. But we’re going to keep our enthusiasm in check until we get a good look at the particulars.”

Silently he squeezed her hand.

That was his Pari. She could read him like a book.

“Tell us about this place.” Since they were there, Max figured he might as well get the full treatment. “We’re on the sixth floor, yeah? Is that top floor, or no?”

“We’re at penthouse level, so no worries about hearing anyone overhead. This particular unit has gorgeous views of Michigan Avenue, Buckingham Fountain and Grant Park, and of course the lake beyond. This entire building was recently sold to a real estate developer. His group has renovated it top to bottom, so it has all the latest bells and whistles. I should also add that there’s updated security, which includes floor-by-floor CCTV monitoring in the hallways, a full security staff onsite, concierge services, and fire and carbon monoxide detectors on all floors. There are two underground parking spaces included in the deed as well, which is a bonus, considering we’re in the hottest area in Chicago, property-wise. Even though the building itself is from turn of the last century, there’s over seventeen-hundred square feet of pure modern happiness right through this door.”

Beside him, Pari’s steps slowed. “Seventeen-hundred square feet? Wait, how many rooms did you say were in this unit?”

“Well…that’s something up for debate.”

The disappointment in Pari’s eyes instantly pissed Max off, because he understood that disappointment all too well. He suspected that she was just like him—on the verge of giving up on a place that their family could call home. Sure, the loft was now way too small, and yeah, it was a pain in the ass to constantly interrupt spontaneous sexy times with Pari because a loft, by definition, had a frustrating lack of doors. God knew privacy was a problem that was only going to get worse as his brilliant Summer and Michael got older and they became little explorers.

But maybe the loft was where they belonged. He hated it; it was too cramped, and everywhere he turned he was walking into toys or a new product experiment of Pari’s, and his art studio had long ago been converted into Summer’s—and now Michael’s—bedroom. But searching for just the right place in the right location was beginning to feel like the impossible dream.

Maybe they were destined for the soul-choking, mindless drone atmosphere of the suburbs, after all.

He’d find a way to live with that.

What he wouldn’t tolerate was a realtor who got Pari’s hopes up for nothing.

“You want to know what’s not open to debate, lady?” Max said in what he hoped was a pleasant tone, but he could tell by the widening of Pari’s eyes that he’d seriously missed the mark. Oh well. “You, wasting our time. I don’t know what it is about me that might have given you the impression that I like games that get my wife’s hopes up, so if this place doesn’t have the four-bedroom minimum that we’ve been very specific about needing, we’re finding another realtor who can get the job done.”

“I assure you, I’m not playing any games,” Janice said quickly, waving a hand that held a key. “Look around you. Now ask yourself—doesn’t this place look familiar?”

“Jesus—”

“Last year I showed you the corner unit next door,” she added hastily when he made to grab Pari so they could get the hell out of there. “It’s still available. I’ve already spoken with the building’s developer, and he’s perfectly amenable to these two units being opened up to create one massive penthouse…as long as you purchase the two units at their asking prices. No negotiations. Sorry.”

“I thought this hallway looked familiar.” The disappointment in Pari’s expression began to clear, and her eyes narrowed. “That was the unit that had that rounded-off corner solarium with all that wonderful sunlight, wasn’t it? I thought that sold before we could make an offer on it?”

“Apparently the deal fell through.”

“I remember that solarium.” Max’s surly mood did a quick disappearing act as his interest quickened. All that natural sunlight was just about priceless to him, and the main reason they’d thought about making an offer the first time around. “How many square feet was it?”

“Twenty-two hundred square feet. Along with another two permanent parking spaces deeded to the unit, there are two en suite bedrooms and a potential third that can either be a nursery or a small office, a true chef’s kitchen, a third full bath, and two communal living areas. This unit here,” Janice added, unlocking the door, “is, of course, smaller than the corner unit. It has two medium-sized en suite bedrooms, a powder room for guests, and a galley-style kitchen that I thought could be converted into a workstation-type room for Pari. Renovations, of course, would have to be approved by the real estate developer, but he assured me that he doesn’t care what is done to the units as long as it doesn’t endanger your neighbors.”

“Not a problem.” There was a shimmer of excitement in Pari’s eyes as she glanced up at him. “Shall we take a look?”

“Why not?” He squeezed her hand and led the way inside.

Long before the tour was over, Max knew this was it. Pari’s mouth seemed to be curved in a permanent smile as she moved from sun-drenched room to sun-drenched room. Her footsteps echoed against the bare hardwood floors, and as he watched her pause at a glass door leading to a balcony overlooking Grant Park, he could imagine Summer and Michael’s laughter echoing through the rooms in a different way. Not as a testament to how empty the space was, but rather how filled it was with life, and happiness, and love.

Always, there was love.

He had Pari. That meant his world had an endless supply.

“You look happy, Mrs. Kulagin.” Unable to resist his woman’s pull, Max wrapped his arms around her from behind. Every cell in his body seemed to sigh when she settled comfortably back against him.

“I am happy.” Eyes trained on something outside, she nevertheless nuzzled her head against his shoulder. “I love how there’s so much light in every room. The frames I have of your napkin art are going to look great in my work space.”

The mention of the napkins she’d had professionally framed made his chest constrict in the sweetest way, and his grip on her tightened. “What are you looking at, kitten?”

“I was just seeing if I could find House Of Payne from this view.”

“Hm.” Gently he cupped her head in his palm and turned it slightly to the south. “It’s right over there, no more than four blocks away. You thinking about the easy commute?”

“I’m actually thinking about how I’m going to be pointing out where Daddy works to Summer, Michael and baby Kulagin number-three. Do you think this time we’ll get one with my coloring instead of another mini-Max? It would only be fair.”

He stilled in profound shock for several seconds before he turned her to face him. “I thought you were on the Pill.”

“Any doctor will tell you that no birth control is a hundred percent. Of course, the birth control I was taking is approximately ninety-two percent in its efficacy, but—”

“So this is a miracle.”

“Well, technically—”

“Don’t tell me percentages and what scientists and doctors say. All I hear is that our baby’s a miracle, and was meant to be.” The wonder and joy that crashed through him nearly broke him in half, in the best possible way. With his breath backing up in his lungs, he touched her stomach and tried to remember what good thing he had done in life to be so utterly blessed. “When?”

“A little over seven months from now. A New Year’s baby.”

“A New Year’s miracle, kitten. If it’s a girl, I want that to be her name. Miracle.”

Her laughter was like music in his ears. “And if it’s a boy?”

“Still Miracle. But we’ll pick a badass middle name to make up for it, and he can go by that.” He laughed suddenly, unable to keep all the joy bottled up, and with a surge of energy he picked her up and swung her around the empty room.

Yeah.

He knew what a miracle was.

She was right there in his arms.

“Well, well.” Janice’s bright voice broke into their private world, and he brought Pari back to earth before looking over at their beaming realtor. “I take it I was right to contact you two about this listing?”

“Definitely,” Max grinned over at her. “We’ll take both units, and let’s do this real quick. We’re going to need that fourth bedroom before you know it.”

“Wonderful! I’ll go get the papers, and in the meantime, feel free to pop over to the corner unit to re-familiarize yourselves with it and see where you might want to place the knock-through.” Leaving the keys on the breakfast bar, Janice hurried off. Max barely noticed. He was too busy looking at his wife, his lover, his best friend.

She was his whole world.

“I’ve got butterflies.” Her laughter sounded almost giddy as she looked up at him with sparkling eyes. “We’re really doing this, aren’t we, my Max? We’re really buying this place?”

“We are.” He bent his head and kissed her with all the passion she inspired. “Here’s to the beginning of the rest of our forever, Mrs. Kulagin.”

Hi again!

Sooo, it’s been a while since I had a new book release, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been writing. Long story short, I’ve got a HUGE project in the works for 2018 with Harlequin’s Carina Press! *happy dance* It’s a contemporary cowboy series with the working title The Brody Brothers. The first book in the series will be released (I think) in the spring of 2018.

Who are the Brody brothers? The first thing that comes to mind is that they’re men.

Hot.

Hardcore.

Alpha.

Men.

Is that enough to get your attention? ;)

The Brody brothers are notorious when it comes to seeing how many women they can bang, and they don’t give a damn who knows it. They own one of the most famous stud ranches around, and with that fame comes fortune. Lots of it. But, funny thing…no matter how much wealth they have, it can’t buy that elusive thing called love. The women they’ve got their sights set on are too smart to just be swept off their feet with a flash of cash or a swanky lifestyle. These women are smart, independent, and definitely no pushovers. Some come with baggage, while others have to face the baggage that come with being a Brody.

None of it comes easy.

Some of it even hurts.

But one thing is true no matter whose story is being told—when it comes to love, the Brody brothers will move heaven and earth to corral their chosen lady-loves. And whether they know it or not at the time, their ladies will be pretty freaking happy they did.

When I have more details on The Brody Brothers, I’ll be sure to let you know. :)

Oh, and before I forget, I’ve added the opening to the first book in The Brody Brothers series, BRANDED, at the end of this letter. Feel free to take a peek, okay?

Now, about Max’s story…

This was a difficult book for me to write, and not just because I interrupted its creation to write the first book in The Brody Brothers series. I wanted to show what House Of Payne looked like from an outsider’s perspective, and it took me a while to get there. What assumptions would people make of such a place? Would they ever feel like they could belong at House Of Payne, or would they forever feel like an awkward outsider?

Pari came into existence out of that thought process. All too soon, however, she showed me that while it was fun looking at all the glitz and glamour of the House from across the street, there was too much real-life drama going on in her world that made the House’s celebrity-studded backdrop pale in comparison. Ultimately that became the underlying message—that we’re all just people with hopes and dreams, worries about the future, and pasts that some of us might want to forget. Pari and Max might have come from opposite ends of the world and from different places in society, but all of that is irrelevant when you meet your other half. Pari loved the soul she saw in Max’s napkin art, and Max…well, he really loved her ass in that uniform.

There are at least two more books planned for the House Of Payne series, and they’re both hinting at being a bit darker than my usual HoP books. I haven’t fully fleshed them out yet, but Tag’s story in particular keeps heading in that direction, no matter how hard I keep trying to keep it in the light. We’ll see how that goes.

I’d like to get to Tag’s story right away, so I’ve decided to dive right into that before I get hit with the bulk of The Brody Brothers. This puts the next Kingfishers book, CRASH, on the back burner for now, but that’s okay. Honey Pot, Montana and the Kingfisher casino empire isn’t going anywhere. ;)

I LOVE hearing from readers, just as much as I love interacting with them. Please feel free to drop me a line at , or follow me on or . If you mention that you’ve read House Of Payne, I promise to follow back and say hi! :)

For updates on my latest releases, cover art and publishing news, sign up for my —I swear I won’t spam your inbox

There’s more lust, lies and love to be had in the House that Payne built. Look for Tagger’s story in January, 2018!

House of Payne: Tagger

And don’t forget to keep an eye out for BRANDED, first book in The Brody Brothers series, coming soon from Harlequin’s Carina Press! For a sneak-peek at BRANDED, read on…

Chapter One

“I’m telling you, Luce, this project for San Antonio Waterways is going to be my ticket out of this crappy little town.” Celia Villarreal exited her online conference call with her employer, DigiLife Marketing, then celebrated the moment with a butt-wiggling chair dance. “I’ve got over a dozen successful graphics campaigns in my portfolio now, but this latest project is the crown jewel. PR and ad companies are going to be beating a path to my door.”

“If anyone can get recognition for the strength of their artwork alone, it’s you, Cel.” Wiping down the round tables in the dining area of Pauline’s Praline Sweet Shoppe, the owner of the sweet-smelling bakery and ice cream parlor, Lucy Jax shot her a quick look. “You’re still set on sending out your portfolio to everyone who’s hiring graphic artists?”

“To everyone that’s in a big city, yeah. In fact,” Celia added, fingers dancing over the keyboard, “I’m just about to send it out…now.” With her heart in her throat, she clicked on the “Send” button.

Done.

Finally, she was taking the all-important step of getting out of a town where she’d become as shunned as if she’d been branded with a scarlet letter.

Thank God.

Lucy made a sad sound. “Even if you get a new job elsewhere, who says you have to move? Your work is mainly digital, right?”

Celia turned in her seat to stare at her friend. “Are you seriously asking me that? Have you forgotten what the past year has been like for me?”

“I know, I know. And even if this town hadn’t decided to act all holier-than-thou, you’ve always wanted to live in one of the big cities—San Antonio, Austin, Dallas. Anywhere but Bitterthorn. But take it from someone who’s lived in a big city, honey. You’re not missing a thing.”

“I can’t stand to be here any longer, Lucy. This town…I’m just done with being hated.”

“It pisses me off so much,” Lucy muttered, attacking a table with the rag. “You did nothing wrong. Nothing. This whole town is full of self-righteous, hypocritical assholes.”

“Not the whole town.” Celia’s throat wanted badly to knot up as the stress of pain and regret tried to rise to the surface. To combat them, she turned her attention to closing the programs on her laptop. “You, Coe, Pauline and Willard have been my saving grace. If I get too lonely, I can head out to Beeville to visit my parents, and a couple times a month my work with DigiLife brings me in to San Antonio. Life could be worse.” Celia glanced at the older woman and had to smile. Even six months pregnant with her third kid and owner of one of the more popular places in the tiny town of Bitterthorn, Texas, Lucy Jax still managed to look like a dynamo. “But it could also be so much better.”

“There’s no rush, you’re still so young—”

“I get the feeling you still see me as the captain of the cheerleading squad at Bitterthorn High.” With a sigh, Celia came to her feet and closed her much-adored laptop. She’d once been one of the most popular people in town, but for the past year, her laptop had become her main source of socializing. “News flash, Luce—I turned twenty-two last week. Though I’ll admit, I’m trying to forget about that since I’m never celebrating that fucking thing ever again.”

At the mention of Celia’s birthday, Lucy grimaced. “Hate to say it, but you might be right about that whole seeing you as a kid thing. I just now had to stop myself from telling you to watch your language.”

“I need to start dropping more F-bombs around you, don’t I? Seriously, it’s like my favorite word.”

The other woman’s chuckle was interrupted by the jingling bell over the door as it opened, and as Lucy’s face lit up Celia didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. That starry-eyed look always showed up whenever her friend’s husband made an appearance.

“Hail, hail, the gang’s all here.” All smiles, Sully Jax came through the door, holding his two year old son Coby on his hip, while guiding his four year old daughter Josie into the store with his free hand. “Ready to go home, babe?”

“That’s my cue to bounce.” Celia waved a quick greeting at the invading Jax family before she bent to unplug her laptop. “Thanks for the company and use of your wifi, Luce. It’s so much better here in town than it is out at the barn.”

“No problem, sweetie.”

“Eventually this whole area will have broadband,” Sully offered. “But for now it’s still the old-fashioned cable shi—stuff,” he quickly amended when Lucy hissed at him.

“Luckily I’ll be long gone from Bitterthorn and its crummy internet service by the time that happens.”

Sully’s smile dimmed. “Still determined to leave, I take it?”

“It’s past time for me to spread my wings, Sully.”

“Past time? What’s the rush, Cel?”

“Pfft, rush? You kidding? I would have flown the coop ages ago if I’d been financially able.” Keeping a tight smile firmly in place, Celia turned back to slide the laptop into an insulated leather messenger bag. There were one or two somewhat scandalous people in town—the youngest Brody boy, Des, who was actually a half-brother and the result of a torrid affair, and the crotchety former mayor, Patricia Weems, who seemed to be merely tolerated out of habit. But Celia knew she was unique to that thin list of gossiped-about people.

She was the only one who was treated like a leper by all the men in town under the age of ninety.

Clearly, she’d outstayed her welcome.

“Let me guess,” came a deep, pleasant voice from the doorway that nevertheless made Celia freeze in place. “I’m too late to get the last of whatever today’s special was?”

“Ry.” At the dessert display case with Josie, Lucy offered a cautious smile, before throwing Celia a covert glance. “Uh, well. Unfortunately I’ve already closed out the register, so you’re too late to buy anything. But that doesn’t mean I can’t offer you something for free before you get on your way.”

That’s it, Luce. Shuffle him right out the door…

“I wouldn’t hear of it, Lucy. Besides, I’m actually here to see Celia.”

It was a miracle Celia didn’t shriek in horror.

Shit.

She really should have left Bitterthorn before now. Like yesterday. An hour ago, even.

But, no.

She just had to be there, in the same dinky little town as Ryland Brody, courting this type of unparalleled disaster. A disaster she’d gone to great lengths to avoid.

Great.

“Oh,” came Lucy’s surprised murmur. Small wonder she was surprised. Her friend knew better than anyone why Ryland Brody was the last man on earth Celia wanted to see. “I would say you were in luck, but I’m afraid your timing’s off. Celia was just on her way out, Ry.”

Bless you, Lucy.

“There’s no luck to it,” came the reply in that charming Texas drawl that nevertheless still stabbed her with invisible knives. “I ran into your husband outside, and he told me you and Celia were in here together, undoubtedly wrapping things up. Hey there, Celia.”

No, no, no, no…

She’d managed to avoid Ry Brody since her twenty-first birthday, though it had been increasingly difficult to dodge him over the past several months. Lately it seemed like everywhere she went Ry was either already there, or he managed to magically show up minutes later.

Holding a door open for her at the post office.

Trying to start a conversation at the hardware store while she browsed through the garden section

Standing behind her at the check-out lane at Abel’s Market.

Giving her a thumbs-up as she painted a mural on the windows of Lucy’s bakery.

He was freaking everywhere.

She’d yet to speak a single word to him. Even if the remembered shame and humiliation made basic communication impossible, the fear of what the town would do to her if she even looked his way kept her silent. Her life had become a nightmare, all thanks to her idiotic behavior with Bitterthorn’s golden boy, Ryland Brody.

She really would’ve liked it if she could wake up from that nightmare now.

Sadly, since there was no waking up from reality, Celia hauled her messenger bag’s strap across her body and forced herself to turn around.

God, the bastard was beautiful.

Then again, all the Brody men were stunners.

Assholes, of course.

But stunners.

Ebony hair waved away from Ry’s chiseled features. His bottle-green eyes looked out at the world from under a surprisingly elegant sweep of winged eyebrows. Unlike his younger brothers, Ry kept his hair almost military short. He had no piercings that she could see, and the only jewelry he sported was a piece of green malachite in black titanium around his neck, a mineral found all over the Brody family’s Black Angus cattle ranch. There were also tattoos on his forearms that she’d glimpsed over the years of ogling him from afar—a spiky tribal design on one forearm, and a compass pointing to true north along with the words Green Rock Ranch on the other.

It wasn’t fair that the one man she couldn’t bear to look at was so insanely gorgeous.

“Hello.” Smiling was beyond her, as was the strength to look directly into those laughing glass-green eyes. The last time she’d looked directly into those eyes, they’d been laughing as well.

At her.

Oh God, she was going to barf.

If possible, his mega-hotness levels went up a notch when his smile intensified. “You’re one tough lady to nail down, you know that?”

“Hm.” Considering she’d been avoiding him as if he were Death himself, there wasn’t much left to say.

“By the way, happy belated birthday. It was on April third, right?”

Lucy choked while Celia just managed to keep the acid-filled tears of stress from boiling to the surface. But damn, the effort it took to hold onto her composure almost broke her in half. Was this bastard seriously asking her that? After what had happened that night? “Why were you looking for me?”

“I’ve got a business proposal I’ve been wanting to talk to you about for a good while now. Since it’s almost six, why don’t we talk about it over dinner? My treat.”

“Dinner.” For a full second she doubted her hearing. Then her brain plunged into hyper-search mode for a plausible excuse to get out of the invite, only to come up with a whole lot of nothing. “No. Just, no. I have to go—”

“It’s a big project. I’ve heard you charge by the hour, so this could be the biggest job you’ve been offered this year.”

Stubbornly she shook her head. There wasn’t enough money in the known universe to make her suffer through being around him. “Sorry—”

“Word is you’re working on a nest egg to make a move into the city, right? I predict that this project for Green Rock Ranch will be the project that puts you right where you’ve always been destined to go.”

“Leave it to Bitterthorn to not care what I’m doing, but still it knows all about me anyway,” she muttered, then paused when the cold, calm logic of what he said sank in.

A job.

A well-paying job, in addition to what DigiLife Marketing was paying her.

The cost of living in Dallas or Houston was twice as much as Bitterthorn. Yes, it was Ryland Brody who was offering her a freelance job, but it was still money. Serious freaking money.

And money was exactly what she needed so she could get the hell out of Bitterthorn.

Put that way, there was no need to waffle on making a decision.

“Fine. Name the restaurant and I’ll follow you in my car.”

Maybe it was a dick move, but Ry led her to The Spot.

Parking his silver heavy duty pickup truck, he climbed out as the sun sank in the west, then stood by the empty parking slot he’d left open for Celia near the bar and grill’s main entrance. She had a kickass car, and the sight of it never failed to bring a smile to his face. It was a fierce-looking vintage Camaro-IROC speedster, with its original yellow and black paint and a souped-up, throaty V-8 engine growling under the hood in a way that vibrated the chest and begged anyone with a soul to get behind the wheel and race the wind.

The whole town had been abuzz when the bubbly, popular captain of the cheerleading squad had picked it up from the town’s best mechanic, in part because that vicious-looking machine could have been certain death in the hands of a teenager. But from day one, Celia had driven that sexy beast like a little old granny on a Sunday outing. Eventually talk about her imminent demise faded away, and the town found something else to gossip about.

He’d never stopped looking out for that Camaro, though, no matter where he went. He couldn’t wait to teach her how to drive that monster good and proper.

He couldn’t wait to teach her a lot of things.

But, first things first.

It was high time he and Celia got epic amounts of shit out of the way, and there was no better place to do it than where all that shit began.

The Spot.

Part of him braced for her to drive right on by while flipping him the bird. Respect bloomed at the steel that had to be in her spine when the Camaro rumbled its way into The Spot’s parking lot and came to a stop right where he was. Its ominous growl cut off abruptly, but the angry sound of it lingered as she shot out of the car’s depths, eyes blazing in the twilight as she slammed the door behind her.

Hm.

Maybe the anger snapping in the air wasn’t coming from the sound of the car after all.

“I don’t know about you,” he began with an easy smile, unconcerned that she had the look of a woman who wanted to take up kickboxing with his head, “but a table out on the deck overlooking the creek sounds pretty damn fine. What do you think?”

“What sounds good to me is getting this over with. We can talk right here in the parking lot, right now.” She crossed her arms, leaned back against her car and gave him a look that told him God Almighty didn’t have the power to make her budge. “What is it that you want from me?”

In the waning light, Ry took his time studying her. A faint breeze, as soft as the mid-spring evening, sifted through the lush silk of black hair that fell to her shoulders. Her eyes were liquid black magic, widely spaced and so large she appeared almost doll-like. When those eyes were made-up as they had been during her twenty-first birthday party a year ago, she’d been more stunning than any goddess.

Now, of course, she was trying to murder him with her glare.

But by damn, she was still one hell of a looker.

“What is it that I want from you?” Ry repeated, not bothering to stifle the urge to look her up and down, and all the way back up again nice and slow. If there was a finer pair of legs in all of Bitterthorn, he had yet to see them. “Oh, darlin’. That list is long and varied, you’ve got my honest-to-God word on that. But right at the top of my list of wants and desires—at least at this moment in time—is to get your ass planted at a table next to me, sipping a cold beer or margarita while we go over what I’d like done for Green Rock Ranch.”

“I don’t drink, so let’s skip that part. We can talk right here.”

“You drank that night, right here at this very bar.”

The color in her face went nuclear. “I don’t remember half of what I did or said that night, okay? It was my twenty-first birthday, and I was seriously celebrating it. I’d like to take this opportunity to apologize to you for anything horrible that I did while under the influence, and I can assure you that it’ll never happen again.”

“Damn, really? And I had such high hopes. You need to loosen up, darlin’,” he added when she made an incensed sound and turned to get back into her car to leave his ass flat. “I’m the worst tease you’re ever going to meet, I’ll admit that right here and now. But I’m never mean or malicious about it, and I’ll always invite you to give me shit back in spades. I love it, the sassier the better. And unless I’m very much mistaken, you are more than capable of bringing the sass. Am I right, or,” he leaned in until his face hovered so near hers he could feel her sweet breath feather like a caress over his mouth, “am I right?”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her hands bunch into fists. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Slowly he smiled.

As a start, it was damn promising.

A competitive figure skater from the age of eight, Stacy Gail began writing stories in between events to pass the time. By the age of fourteen, she told her parents she was either going to be a figure skating coach who was also a published romance writer, or a romance writer who was also a skating pro. Now with a day job of playing on the ice with her students, and writing everything from steampunk to cyberpunk, contemporary to paranormal at night, both dreams have come true.

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House of Payne: Max by Stacy Gail (1)

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