The hammer came down hard, and red-hot sparks floated through the air. Naked from the waist up, Anthony's dark brown skin glistened beneath layers of sweat. He always found solace in his shop. The physical exertion of blacksmithing not only contributed to keeping him in excellent physical shape, but provided a mental outlet as well. And right now, he needed to burn off his anger at not just Christy's reluctance to marry him, but her willingness to act as an unofficial informant for the police.

He put his hammer down long enough to stoke the flaming embers that shone bright red and contributed to the sweltering heat in his workshop. He had a quick memory of the old blacksmith who'd temporarily hired an eight-year-old Anthony and his father to do some odd jobs. He'd noticed Anthony's interest and showed him some basics before the father and son moved on to the next job. The heat and isolation of his garage reminded Anthony of a Native American sweat lodge, and when opportunities arose he'd continued to hone his craft. He was grateful that the house he'd purchased provided an excellent space in the garage for him to set up a shop. It was his only hobby and even though he wasn't the best artisan, he knew his work showcased a talent that would surprise most people.

He'd been working on a wedding gift for Christy. A gift that he was going to present to her after they'd been officially pronounced husband and wife by the state of Florida. Unfortunately, he could take his time to perfect the gift because even after explaining to her that he loved her and wanted to give her his name, she'd still refused and even turned up her nose at his offer to sign a prenuptial agreement. He didn't need or want Christy's money. She offered no explanation other than she didn't see a reason for them to be formally married unless she became pregnant. She would want their child to have his name, so of course, she would marry him if that happened.

His long black hair stuck to his back as he wielded another blow. He thought about how just last night Christy had finally gotten around to asking him about the large sum of money that Van owed. She was surprised when Anthony told her that Van had been borrowing from him for quite a while, and always paid on time and with interest. She knew that her stepfather had some unsavory habits and vices, but she hadn't realized they'd become so out of control he couldn't cover them with his monthly dealership dividend and the allowance that Vivian had been giving him.

After the death of her mother, Vivian Chapman had become the sole heiress of her estate which included several luxury automobile dealerships on the west coast of Florida. Anthony shook his head in disgust when he thought of how Van Chapman was managing to run the businesses into the ground in the four short years since his mother-in-law's death. Between his expensive drug addiction, high-priced whores and penchant for betting on everything from horses to baseball, he was blowing through what had to be a substantial fortune. Bobbi Bowen must be doing somersaults in her grave, Anthony thought to himself as he swiped his arm across his sweaty brow and reflected on the secret business arrangement he'd had with the elderly woman. An arrangement he'd not yet disclosed to Christy.

It's not like Van wasn't honoring the agreement Anthony made with Bobbi before her death. Van didn't even know about it. Anthony dealt with two contacts that Bobbi had handpicked to work with him. Unfortunately, Van's proclivity for hard drugs and heavy spending had rendered him practically useless when it came to presiding over the dealerships. Their bottom line had recently been taking a hit due to his mismanagement. And a bad bottom line meant it was becoming increasingly difficult to bury evidence of Anthony's illegal business transactions in their accounting ledgers. Anthony had recently discussed this with his contacts at Bobbi Bowen's and they were trying to come up with a plan to see what could be done. Finding out that not only was Van indirectly hurting his clandestine operation but that the man had been in arrears on his personal loans only fueled Anthony's irritation, and his hammering quickened along with his frustration.

He had to take a calming breath as he thought about how all this could've been avoided if Denny had been direct months ago. But why would he have been? Denny knew Van always paid so he was certain he could extend credit and make a little for himself without anybody knowing. What a poor choice that had turned out to be for Denny. And Van.

Thinking about the Chapmans only made him angrier, and using the tongs, he hurled the object he'd been working on through the air. It hit the wall with a loud clang.

"What was that?" a soft voice asked from behind him.

Anthony spun around and saw Christy staring at him, her eyes huge and curious.

They got wider as they took in his appearance. He still held the hammer in one hand and the tongs in his other. His breathing was heavy as his eyes raked over her. He threw both tools to the floor and the loud clatter caused her to jump. He approached her slowly, his dark eyes blazing and his skin slick.

He grabbed her by the back of her neck and brought his mouth down hard on hers. There was no tenderness in his kiss, just raw need. He backed her up against a wall and undid his belt. After freeing himself from the confines of his tight jeans he yanked her shorts down roughly.

"Anthony?" she sputtered. "Anthony, what...what are you doing?" She'd never seen him like this and didn't know how to react. He hoisted her up and pressed her hard against the garage wall.

"Wrap your legs around me," he barked. After arranging it so their bodies would meet in perfect unison, he plunged deeply and watched her expression change from one of concern to one of need and carnal lust.

"What am I doing?" he asked, mimicking her question, his voice throaty. "I'm getting you pregnant."