The hairs on the back of my neck prick. Uneasy, my eyes track around the room again, wondering who’s watching me yet seeing no one. It’s the same feeling I’ve had since I stepped foot into the grand ballroom of the Sheraton two hours ago.

At first I thought maybe it was Paul Graber. My stomach lodged in my throat when I saw him here. He stared for a good long time, clearly noting I was with Shaw, before fading back into the crowd. Shaw noticed I was edgy but I never told him about Paul Graber, and I don’t want to, so I said I had too much caffeine today instead.

But Graber left. I saw him walk out the door with a redhead who towered above him. That was an hour ago and the eerie feeling I’m being stalked has not dissipated.

“They seem to be getting along okay.” Shaw’s lips graze the shell of my ear, causing a shiver of desire to run up and down my spine. Tonight’s live band is playing a great rendition of Michael Bublé’s Home and with Shaw’s body pressed to mine, his arms encasing me from behind, I’ve honestly never felt happier.

I take another quick look around and, seeing nothing, decide I’m being ultraparanoid. Seeing a former client, especially that one, has thrown me for a loop. Instead, I focus my attention on our two best friends across the crowded room and laugh. “Really? Is that what you see?”

Sierra’s fingers are clenched together in front of her, her claws barely leashed. She stands shoulder to shoulder with Noah, his arm secured firmly around her bare midriff. They’re talking to an elderly couple. Actually, Noah’s doing most of the talking; Sierra’s lips are drawn into a thin, tight smile.

It’s been utterly comical to watch Noah parade her around like a prized shih tzu at a dog show, his hand at the small of her back. He’s barely stopped touching her all night long. I still can’t believe Shaw sweet-talked her into coming to this stuffy event. And not just to donning a ball gown and unsteady sling backs, but to being Noah’s date. Date.

“Well, I don’t see blood under her nails or scratches up and down his arms,” he jokes.

We shuffle ahead a few feet. We’ve been standing in line for a cocktail for ten minutes. Seems as if everyone had the same idea at the same time. “Yet.”

I feel the warmth of his breath a second before his lips land on my temple. They’re soft and soothing. They linger. A smile creeps across my face.

“I’d like to be covered in scratches,” he murmurs for my ears only.

I’m suddenly hot and tingly all over. All the diabolical techniques he uses to master my body fly through my head at lightning speed and I croak, “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.” He chuckles. It’s shameless and sexy, with endless possibilities attached.

A finger gently presses against my jaw until I’m forced to turn and look up at him and, oh God…the devotion, undisguised want, and absolute love I see treading in his dark blue depths make me breathless. These crazy feelings I have for him start firing off all at once.

“Shaw…” His name is weighted with so much. Unparalleled longing. A plea not to break me. Fear that he will.

“I know, Willow.” He presses his lips tenderly to mine, mumbling, “I know.”

He spins me and wraps one hand around my waist. Placing the other around my head, he settles me into him, my cheek on his chest. My palms smooth up his back, my fingers curling around the slick fabric of his expensive suit jacket. I am one microscopic step away from handing everything I am over to him, reservations be damned.

“God almighty, I need two seconds away from this pretentious bullshit.”

Shaw makes a noise close to a grunt before releasing me. Before I face Sierra, Shaw tips my face up and smiles a lazy smile, drawing the same from me. “If I haven’t told you already, you are heart-stoppingly beautiful tonight.”

My grin widens. He’s told me this no less than a dozen times already. He makes me feel beautiful. Desirable. Makes me believe every word he says is true.

Then stop doubting him, Willow.

“Blah freakin’ blaaah,” Sierra complains behind me. Fingers pinch my biceps and she yanks on me. “You can stroke your own cock for five minutes, can’t you, Mercer?” Dragging me with her when she starts to walk away, she stops to bark at Noah, “Top-shelf whiskey. The best they have. Double. Neat. Make it fast. I want it here when I get back.”

For a moment or two Noah stares at her with awed fascination before quirking his mouth into that panty-melting smirk. “Your wish, milady.”

Sierra huffs and rolls her eyes so far back they’re in danger of getting stuck. Noah barks a laugh at our backs as we wind our way toward the back of the ballroom through the heavy crowd.

“Noah seems enthralled with you,” I say as we break through the throng of bodies, making a beeline for the ladies’ room.

The noise she makes is a cross between a snort and another huff. “I’ve never seen so many puckered assholes congregated in one room in my life,” Sierra drawls with disdain as she shoves open the restroom door hard enough for it to bang off the wall.

I laugh nervously, looking around to be sure we’re alone. She may not care, but I do. Said puckered assholes donated a hell of a lot of money tonight, according to Shaw. Luckily I see no one by the row of sinks.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I didn’t hear the question mark.”

“Do you like him?” I press.

She slaps down the small gold handbag she has tucked under her arm and jerks it open, lifting out a deep red lip pencil.

“Like him? He’s an egomaniac and a whore.”

She likes him. Noah Wilder may be the atypical man for Sierra Wiseman but her eyes don’t lie. And what’s not to like about him? He’s sexy, charming, and suave. And not in a smarmy, I’ve got swampland for you way, but in a genuine one that draws you in closer with each breath he takes. He’s a ladies’ man, clearly, but there’s something more underneath that cool demeanor. If I had to guess, I’d call it loneliness, though I’m sure he’d never admit it.

She takes off the cap and starts meticulously lining her full mouth, catching my gaze in the mirror when she pauses. “Tell me why I fucking agreed to this again?”

Sobering, I tell her lowly, “You know why.”

Sierra and I may be unconventional friends, but we share an unbreakable bond no friends should. We both lost sisters. Mine to overdose, hers to childhood cancer. Only she doesn’t talk about Sammy, the same way she doesn’t talk about anything else. She’s a veritable cask of internal suffering like me. And I don’t like the way it looks on me anymore.

Ignoring me, she takes a deep breath and goes back to painting her lips the color that makes men’s thoughts turn to what it would look like staining their cocks. When she’s satisfied, she throws it back in her purse and snaps it shut. Then she stands there, fingers wrapped around the counter, seemingly looking at her reflection. But she’s not. She’s far away. I know this is hard for her. My heart aches because I’ve walked so many miles in her shoes my soles are fraught with irreparable holes.

I set my hand over hers and squeeze. “Thanks for coming. I know this is hard.”

Her eyes snap to mine in the mirror. They clear, then calcify, emotions back under lock and key. Girl talk is over.

“I made your boy toy promise a donation so big it would give him hemorrhoids.”

A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth but I bite my lip. Somehow I doubt this “date” Shaw orchestrated has anything to do with a donation. He sits on the board of the Children’s Hospital and has a soft spot for kids, so he probably already had a big check penned before he even asked her. No. This is something else entirely. A setup. And with the unwavering attention Noah has been paying Sierra all night, I’d say something unlikely might be brewing between them.

“I’m not surprised. You’re a good negotiator, Ser.”

I spin on my heel and head for a stall as that smile I’ve kept at bay breaks loose.

“I want proof,” her voice drifts through the hollow metal as I close it.

“If he made a promise, he’ll keep it. One thing I’ve come to learn about Shaw Mercer is he’s good to his word.”

I hike up my ankle-length, pale pink pleated skirt and tug down my barely there nude thong. The one I know Shaw will go crazy over later.

“He’d better be. I’ll have his left nut if he doesn’t.”

“Wow. Just the left? That’s generous of you.” I unwind some toilet paper and wad it in my hand.

“I figured I should give you a shot at the fake baby you were talking about.”

God. That sends a jolt of electricity through me.

The squeak of hinges reaches my ears, signaling someone else has entered our domain. Sierra calls, “I’ll meet you out there. I need a drink in the worst way if I’m going to make it another hour in these medieval torture devices some male bastard created thinking it would get him laid.”

“Ha! Couldn’t agree more.” My own feet are screaming for mercy. But Shaw’s eyes widened like saucers at these gorgeous silver shoes with slinky straps that lace several times around my ankles. And when he whispered how he couldn’t wait to feel them scrape his ears as he devoured me later, I knew I’d endure any pain to feel that pleasure.

I finish, wash my hands, and dig my MAC See Sheer lipstick from my purse, applying a fresh coat.

I find myself thinking about the words I just spoke to Sierra. How Shaw’s good to his word. He’s never lied to me. Not once. He’s an honorable man. Good and loyal. He makes me feel comfortable and understood, and isn’t that what every human being wants? Freedom to be yourself? To be accepted for who you are, not who you have to pretend to be sometimes? Someone who strengthens you simply by their sheer presence and nothing else?

That person is rare. One many of us never succeed at finding.

Suddenly, all that anxiety I have of telling Shaw I love him and hearing him say it back falls to pieces at my feet. I’ve found that person. The one who makes me stronger. The anomaly I didn’t think existed, but does, and I would be a fool to continue keeping him at arm’s length.

I’ve not risked a damn thing in my life. I didn’t risk anything with Reid. I held it all back, afraid. I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I’m tired of fear ruling me. I’m tired of others ruling me. For once I want to rule me. I want to risk it all, even knowing what pain may be waiting for me at the end.

With excitement and a healthy dose of nerves now pumping through my veins, I exit the bathroom with every intention to head straight into Shaw’s embrace and make my confession. I attempt to throw my makeup back into my purse but miss and it falls quietly to the carpeted floor. I bend my knees gracefully, scoop up the lipstick, and make it into my bag the second time around.

It’s not until I stand and take one step forward that my eyes land on her.

Voodoo Eyes.

The gorgeous brunette from the fundraiser I attended with Paul Graber a few months back who stared me down. The same one I saw pictured on Shaw’s arm several times before he started dating me.

Those hairs on my neck rise again.

She’s been the one watching me all night long.

I want to keep walking, but for some reason, I’m frozen stiff. She stares at me intently. Gives me the once-over, slow and deliberate. She still hasn’t said a word. Neither have I.

Coming to my senses, I start to move but her provocation paralyzes me again.

“So you’re the flavor of the month, huh?”

I say nothing. I’m not about to get into a trivial catfight with a woman spurned. I tell my feet to go. They do. I’m practically beside her when she taunts me again.

“A word of advice, little girl. Don’t get caught up in his selfless gestures and sweet words. He’ll use you until he tires of you, then cut your heart out with a spoon. He’ll let you fall in love with him and walk away, leaving you to wonder what in the fuck just happened. Because Shaw Mercer doesn’t do love.” Her fingers curl, air quoting the last two words.

I say nothing as she watches me, not dropping my guise for a second. But saliva has flooded my mouth and my heart has plummeted to my stomach, bouncing back up to lodge in my throat. My skin has tightened and I’m definitely clammy.

She’s looking for an outward reaction and I refuse to give her one. My years of acting couldn’t have come in handier.

“Sounds suspiciously like a woman scorned to me.”

Her cool green orbs flit down my body before connecting again to mine. She smiles. Not one that says let’s get our nails done next week mind you, but one that lets me know she thinks I’m as unworldly as Laura Ingles Wilder.

“Have they shared you yet?”

“Excuse me?” I spit incredulously, spinning toward her. Two women skirt around us quickly, very much aware this isn’t a long-lost reunion.

Her cocky smile slips a little. If I’m not mistaken, I see bits of sympathy bleeding through her hateful glare. “You are so naïve I almost feel bad for you. Shaw Mercer and Noah Wilder are known as the famous Wonder Twins, or haven’t you been let in on that little secret yet?”

Anger sits hotly in my stomach, its smokiness swirling and thickening until I feel it crawling up my esophagus in bitter waves. I force myself to be cool and unaffected by her goading, but inside it’s a whole different story.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Debauchery, dear.”

I know my look is pure confusion and in about five seconds, I’ll have wished I’d just played along or walked away because the next thing she says steals my breath.

She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Threesomes. Orgies. They are very practiced. It’s their specialty, actually. Been doing it since college, I hear. See”—she crosses her arms and taps her witchlike nails against one bicep in an efficient, irritating rhythm—“Shaw lures you in. Convinces you it’s your dream come true. I mean, what woman hasn’t fantasized about two gorgeous men fucking her brains out? Not any that I know of. And let me tell you, Shaw and Noah not only do it, they do it very, very well. But here’s the thing…the second Noah Wilder sets foot into that bedroom is your kiss of death. When he slides inside of you while Shaw watches and encourages him on, you’re already a fading memory.”

My lungs seize. I don’t think I’m blinking. Pretty sure I’m not breathing either.

Is what she says true? By the flush of her skin and the slight heave of her chest, I would say yes. Plus, she was extremely…descriptive.

Jesus Christ. Tomorrow I’m boarding a private plane with Shaw and Noah. Shaw said they had quick business in North Carolina and that he didn’t want to be away from me for even a day. He said we’d get a hotel room and he’d do things to me I never imagined I wanted.

Is that what he meant? A threesome with Noah? Was this all just a game? Is he upset about the other night? Noah is every woman’s fantasy, but he’s not mine. I know I have a lot of walls and when Shaw tears one down, I throw another one up. I know I haven’t even talked to him about my most painful loss: my sister. But is this the way he’ll end us?

Nausea stirs up all those doubts and fears I thought I’d just buried. My legs wobble under my skirt, and my throat feels like it’s closing. Weakness momentarily conquers strength and I set two fingertips against the arm of a nearby chair to steady myself. And to think I was about to rush into his arms and tell him how I’ve fallen in love with him and can’t imagine my life without him.

Now the smile she gives me is genuinely sad and full of heartbreak.

“From one woman to another, get out before it’s too late. Find a man who’s capable of loving someone besides himself, his family, and his twisted partner in crime. Shaw Mercer doesn’t do commitment. He’s like the wind. Uncatchable.”

Uncatchable. That’s what I’ve thought all along.

My heart feels sluggish and weak as this incredible sadness tries to take me under. For long blinks, we size each other up, quiet. She’s waiting for a reaction, a fight, a naïve rebuttal maybe. But what would be the point of that? I believe every word she says is true and it crushes me.

After I take a moment to recapture the breath I lost, I do the only thing I can. What I excel at. I ease back into Summer’s skin and become someone else. It’s the only way I’ll get out of here without falling apart. Or scratching the bitch’s eyes out. “Well, then it’s probably just as well I’m looking for a great fuck instead of happily ever after. H-E-As are for suckers and romance novels.”

I don’t spare her another glance as I turn on my heels and flee. On unsteady steps back to Shaw, though I feel her eyes boring holes into my back, I keep my head high and heartache buried in an abyss that seems bottomless. The plastic smile is back in place as I slip into his strong arms and I work double time to keep my muscles from shaking with tremors of despair.

I’m generally the master of disguise. It’s become as natural to me as taking a breath. Only this time, as Shaw whispers, “Are you okay?” quietly in my ear, I genuinely wonder how I’m going to pull off the greatest act of my life.

How do I pretend nothing happened when I felt the world split open right beneath my feet?