They talked more as they strolled down the beach together, the sky above them turning a darker and darker blue, until finally they walked beneath a midnight dome sprayed with countless stars.

“But don’t you think it’s a little unlikely, that you can actually separate out your past from your present?” she asked him hesitantly after a while. “I mean isn’t it a little . . .”

“What?”

“Well . . . creepy, that I look like someone you used to care about?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe. But doesn’t history come into play to some degree in every case of attraction we experience our whole life?”

“What do you mean?”

She stared at his stark profile as they walked. For several moments, he didn’t reply.

“You don’t find that there are certain things about me, for instance, that remind you of something from your past?”

She gave a small laugh. “No.”

“You’re sure?” he asked quietly.

“You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met. But I get your point,” she mused after a moment. “We’re all a product of our histories. I just want to make it clear that even if I look a little like this other woman, I’m not her.”

“You actually don’t look all that much like her. It’s just you remind me of her.”

“How do I remind you of her?”

Only the soft surf penetrated the thick silence for a moment.

“I don’t know. In some kind of . . . deeper sense. Not that I’m very spiritual. And not to shortchange the physical aspect of things, by any means,” he added dryly under his breath. “It’s a feeling of connection.” He shrugged uneasily. “Who knows where something like that comes from? Maybe you don’t feel it, but—”

“I feel it.”

His stark, startling honesty had yanked the bewildering truth right out of her throat. “Still . . . I want to be appreciated for who I am. Even if—”

She cut herself off abruptly.

“What?” he asked.

“Even if this is only a sexual thing. That’s not too unfair to ask, is it?”

He stopped and reached for her hand. She halted, looking up at the star-filled sky behind the blackness of his outline. Why was it that he always seemed so mysterious to her, so cloaked? And yet, at other times, he seemed achingly familiar. The paradox of him pulled at her. It was making her do things she shouldn’t.

“Of course it’s not unfair. It’s a given. You’re a unique, beautiful woman. You deserve to be more than appreciated. You should expect it.”

“Thanks,” she said breathlessly.

“Let me take you home so I can appreciate you more.”

A laugh popped out of her throat. He’d said it deadpan. Her smile widened when she heard his warm, low chuckle above the surf, twining with hers.

“Seriously. I want to talk to you about something else. Something important.” He touched her cheek. “Let’s do it back at my place. I want to be able to see your face.”

Her amusement faded. She stepped closer to his body, drawn irrevocably despite her doubts.

“I understand you saying you want a no-strings-attached relationship, and I think I can do that,” she murmured. She hoped she could, anyway. “But it makes things complicated, what you just told me. What I just admitted. I’m not going to be okay with it, if you go into silent stealth mode about it again.”

“I told you,” he said, cradling her jaw with one hand. He stepped closer, his groin brushing against her belly, the tips of her breasts coming into contact with his rib cage. Arousal flickered through her like heat lightning fluttering across the night sky . . . the promise of a coming storm. “It’s in the past,” he breathed.

“I’m not saying you have to talk about this other person or your history with her ad nauseam,” she said, highly aware that his head had lowered over her uplifted face. Their mouths were only inches apart. She could smell his clean, spicy man-scent. Arousal curled in her lower belly and tingled her sex. “I’m saying that if I think you’re going aloof and cold because you’re thinking of this other woman, I reserve the right to call you out on it. And I don’t want to be shut out if I do.”

There was a tense pause where he didn’t move and she didn’t draw breath. Again, she was highly aware of the fact that he wasn’t used to women making demands of him. She wondered if he’d refuse.

“All right. As long as you hear what I’m saying right now. It’s not going to happen again. I’ve thought about it. I wouldn’t have shown up at your house if I hadn’t come to a solid decision. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about life, it’s that dwelling on the past is like carrying around a ten-ton load because you’re too stupid to drop the damn thing and move on. Every day is new,” he said, sliding his firm lips against hers. Her lungs hitched. “I remake myself every day,” he said quietly, his warm breath brushing against her mouth.

She craned for him, her lips caressing his when she smiled.

“Do you really believe that?” she asked, her whisper barely heard above the sound of the soft surf.

“No. I know it,” he said, plucking at her lips teasingly one more time before he covered her mouth in a hot, melting kiss.

By the time he lifted his head a heart-thumping moment later, her brain was hazy and her sex had gone warm and achy. When he took her hand in his and led her in the direction of his beachside mansion, Harper followed without question. After that kiss, it seemed like the most natural—the most inevitable—thing to do.

They approached the terrace doors, Jacob still holding her hand in his while he touched his forefinger to a pad on a security monitor near the door.

“Good evening, sir,” a male’s voice resounded into the dark night. Harper started.

“Ms. McFadden is here with me, Tony,” Jacob responded calmly, giving Harper the impression it was common business for him to communicate with discarnate voices coming not only from dark woods, but as in this case, from the very air itself.

“Thank you, sir. Have a good night.”

The lock on the door clicked and Jacob opened it, drawing Harper over the threshold. She followed him through the shadow-draped great room toward a magnificent, sweeping staircase made entirely of lodgepole pine, the hushed sense of anticipation building in her. He drew her down a high-ceilinged hallway to a large carved door. He glanced back at her as he turned the knob. Harper swallowed a knot of anticipation that had grown in her throat.

He closed the door behind them.

She stood for a moment, admiring the beautiful room. As in the great room, the old Tahoe lodge design mixed with sleek, modern décor. Ivory couches were set before a streamlined gray slate fireplace. The natural gold and caramel colors of the wood floors and beamed pine ceilings made a warm contrast to the distant bed and the crisp, luxurious ivory and gray bed dressing. The bed itself was beneath an alcove of windows that Harper realized during the day would offer views of Lake Tahoe’s cerulean waters from three directions.

“What a lovely room,” she murmured, turning toward him. Excitement and trepidation bubbled in her at the vision of him standing so still, soberly regarding her. He was so desirable to her. She might as well face it. Nevertheless, anxiety flickered into her awareness. “All those security people you have working here,” she began slowly, “they can’t . . . see in here, can they?”

“No. These quarters are completely private,” he said, walking toward her with that panther-like grace she admired. He reached and took both her hands in his, never breaking their stare. “I wouldn’t expose you. What happens in this bedroom is between us, and us alone. Do you believe me?”

She nodded, completely entranced by his eyes and deep, fluid voice.

“I’d like the same assurance from you,” he said.

A puff of air popped out of her throat. She wondered if she should be offended by his request, but then realized it was only fair.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” she murmured, amusement tilting her mouth.

“I’d like your assurance that everything that happens to you while you’re with me, everything you observe or experience, is kept in absolute confidence.”

“I’ve promised you that before,” she said, her brow crinkling in consternation. “I told you I would never write anything about you, or offer information to anyone at my paper—or any news source—unless we agreed upon it beforehand. I won’t even mention it to a friend, if that’s the reassurance you need.” She glanced sideways in the direction of the great, luxurious bed. “And I’d hardly be gabbing about anything that happens here. I’m a very private person, too, you know.”

He squeezed her hands gently in his.

“I know.”

“Do you?” she asked, arching her brows. “I don’t understand how you could.”

“I know that you had an affair with Louis Richton, the owner of the San Francisco Chronicle’s largest rival newspaper.” Harper gasped, but he continued, ignoring her stunned reaction. “I know you carried out that affair in complete secrecy. To this day, your boss at the Chronicle and your coworkers have no idea you were sleeping in the enemy’s bed.”

“How did you find—”

“Knowledge is my key weapon in everyday business. I can’t afford ignorance.”

She broke his hold on her hands, turning toward the circular bank of windows.

“I’ve offended you again,” he said.

“I’m not a part of your business,” she bit out angrily over her shoulder.

“I’m just trying to be honest, Harper. It might seem to you that an affair is strictly a personal experience. I wish I could say otherwise in my case, but matters of business factor into every aspect of my life. I’m telling you this because I want you to know one of the reasons that I’m inclined to trust you. You have a track record. Try to understand my point of view.” She looked back at him. “It’s not par for the course for me, to become involved with a reporter.”

“I’m not a reporter, at present. I’m an editor. And what have you got to hide?”

“My sexual preference in the bedroom, for one thing,” he replied without pause. “That’s no one’s business but my own.”

“And your lovers’, I assume.”

He nodded once. She was struck by his solemn earnestness. Maybe what he was saying to her at that moment wasn’t flattering, but it was honest. She’d give him that.

“I don’t appreciate you digging into my private life,” she told him stiffly.

“I’m sorry. It was a necessity. I needed to be sure of you.”

She rounded on him. “And what about my certainty about the wisdom of getting involved with you? Where’s my security?”

“I give you my word I’d never expose you in any way. I’ll keep you safe, Harper.”

She blinked. Again, a strong sense of inexplicable déjà vu came over her. Dazedly, she realized he’d said the same thing last night. That must be why it sounded so familiar. But that wasn’t even the strangest part about his proclamation.

The oddest part was that she completely believed him.

“What have I got to be kept safe from?” she asked numbly. “What are these sexual preferences that you feel you need to guard so closely?”

Instead of answering her, he reached for her hand. She followed him across the long distance of the room, her heart starting to pound in her ears when she saw where he led her. He urged her to sit at the edge of the bed and came down next to her.

“I would like to bind you at times. During sex.”

“You mean . . . like you held me last night while we . . .” Heat rushed through her cheeks at the graphic memory. “You mean bind me with your hands? Hold me down?”

“Yes,” he replied. “But more than that. I want to restrain you with other things, so that I can use my hands to touch you.” He leaned closer, his agate eyes mesmerizing her. “Control you. Pleasure you.”

She licked her lower lip in nervous excitement. “What other things?”

“Any number of things: cuffs, harnesses that help me position you any way I like . . . ropes.”

“Ropes?” she asked, taken aback. He saw her anxious reaction and cupped her jaw gently, leaning closer. She caught his scent, and her heart fluttered with agitated arousal.

“Soft rope,” he murmured. “Rope I have specially made of the softest, strongest black silk. It would look so beautiful against your white skin. Don’t worry, though. I won’t do that tonight.”

Her lungs froze. His lips brushed against hers seductively. A whimper escaped her throat. His head moved back.

“I’m not going to harm you,” he said gruffly. “And I don’t want you to be afraid. You’ll have the power, because anytime you tell me to stop and unbind you, I will. Any time. Even if I’m deep inside you and about to see heaven,” he added, his mouth shaping into a small snarl.

I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that happening.

She scowled slightly in response to her enthusiastic mental voice. His gaze ran over her face. She became highly aware of her pulse throbbing at her throat. “Never mind,” he said suddenly, standing. He thought he’d read fear on her face, when in fact, she’d been feeling stunned arousal. He turned away, swiping the back of his hand across his upper lip. Had he gotten turned on, talking about binding her with soft rope and being deep inside her?

It’d certainly gotten to Harper. Still . . . she was uncertain.

“I shouldn’t have brought it up,” he said gruffly, his back to her. “It’s just that . . . as much as I might want to, I don’t think I can be with you partly. I don’t want fifty, or seventy or ninety percent. With you, it’s going to have to be all or nothing.”

“Why do you want to?” she asked.

He twisted around and met her stare. “Why do I want to restrain you?”

She nodded.

“Because I want you at my mercy. I want to know that every ounce of pleasure that you get, every rush of sensation, every orgasm, was due completely to me. I want to own it.”

She blinked, set off balance by his grim intensity.

“Isn’t that kind of narcissistic?” she asked warily.

His brows arched and she sensed his dark amusement. “Narcissistic like some of your past lovers? I don’t know. Is it?” he asked, his tone misleadingly mild. “Is that how it felt to you on the yacht? When we were on that chaise lounge together? When I was touching you?”

She blinked. No. If anything, your entire focus on me felt like the exact opposite of self-involvement.

“I like control in the bedroom,” he stated simply.

“Just like you do in the boardroom?” she asked with a half smile. “You can’t own everything, Jacob. You can’t control everything.”

Even to her own ears, she sounded unconvinced. She was under his influence now. She could never forget what it was like to be made love to by him. He’d controlled her mind and body like a maestro, and now all she could think about was submitting to him again.

“Maybe not. But many things, I can,” he said with quiet confidence.

“I don’t want to be beaten or bruised or abused in any way.”

“I would never leave you marked. Never. The idea makes me sick.”

She was taken aback by his bitterness. His mouth twisted, and again, she sensed that frustration she couldn’t understand in him.

“I won’t lie. I’ll demand a lot of you. I’ll want to fuck you hard. Frequently, and in whatever way I want. But only if you’re completely with me in the moment, Harper.”

She inhaled shakily, aroused by his words and finding the fierceness of his eyes overwhelming.

“This isn’t about making you suffer. Never. It’s about the opposite. I want you excited. I want you to surrender to everything but the moment. I want you to give in to the pleasure. To me.”

It was like he was on fire in those moments, and it hurt a little to stare directly at the flame.

“Does it turn you off?” he asked quietly, his gaze on her rapier sharp. “The idea of giving control to me during sex? I’m going to position you any way I choose. Then I’m going to pleasure you any way that strikes me before I have you any way that I please. It’s going to feel so damn good.”

Heat rushed through her cheeks and chest.

“It doesn’t turn me off,” she admitted. “If it’s anything like last night, I think . . . I think I’d like giving you control. In the bedroom,” she emphasized.

He spun around slowly. “You’re sure? You’re not afraid?”

“I don’t think so, no.”

He stalked toward her. She couldn’t help but notice he was erect. She could clearly see the thick shaft of his cock pressing against his cargo shorts. A thrill raced through her. She could make out the shape of the plump cockhead. He had been turned on, just by speaking the words out loud of what he wanted to do to her. He halted less than a foot away from where she sat on the bed.

Without thinking, she reached for him, running her hand along the rigid staff of his cock through his clothing. He muttered a curse, his hand going behind her head. She didn’t need his urging, though. She pressed her face against his crotch, running her lips against the hard ridge of his erection. When she felt that ridge beneath the large, mushroom-shaped cockhead that excited her so much, she caressed it with the edge of her front teeth. A fever rose in her.

The next thing she knew, his hands were at her elbows. He pulled her up roughly into a standing position. Harper opened her lips to protest the deprivation, but then he was kissing her forcefully. Angrily? A hot wave of excitement swept through her, taking all rational thought with it. His kiss scorched her. When he sealed it abruptly a moment later, she was panting softly.

“You see why I have to control you,” he said, his mouth slanted in a hard line. His fingers went to the small of her back, finding the button of her skirt. “You’d have me coming within a matter of minutes every time, just like you did the other night on the terrace.”

“Maybe that’s what I want,” she breathed, staring up at him. He jerked down her zipper and slid his hand down over her ass, taking her skirt along the way. He shoved his hand into her underwear and caressed her bare bottom as her skirt fell down to her thighs.

“Is it? I thought you wanted me to have control in the bedroom.” He pulled her panties down over her ass.

“I do,” she whispered, enthralled by his face . . . and his touch on her naked, tingling skin. “But I also liked watching you come that night. A lot. I liked that you came on me.”

His small snarl made her blood rush furiously in her veins. She pressed tighter to him, excited by his erection. He pushed her back slightly at the same moment that he took a step back. Harper felt her skirt and panties slither past her thighs.

“You’re going to be such a challenge,” he said, his mouth setting into a grim line as his gaze dropped down over her naked hips and legs. “Now . . . let’s get you out of the rest of these clothes.”

He knelt in front of her, making a sweeping motion with his hand between her legs to capture both her skirt and panties. He paused with the edge of his hand against the panel of her underwear. The next thing Harper knew, he was looking up at her with blazing eyes.

“You’re very wet.”

“I . . . guess I was turned on . . .,” she said lamely.

She was glad when he didn’t belabor the topic. Instead, he quickly and efficiently removed the garments and then took off her sandals. She began to raise her shirt, thinking to help him with the process, but he stood abruptly, towering over her. His hands grasped her wrists, stopping her.

“No. I’ll want to undress you for sex.”

“Every time?” she asked stupidly.

“Every time.”

He held her stare and reached for the hem of her shirt. He swept it over her head. There had been something in his eyes when he’d said those two words: every time. Whatever it was had locked her lungs.

He unfastened her bra and drew it off her arms.

“Lie back on the bed.” Despite the hypnotic smoothness of his voice, she sensed the coiled tension in him.

The luxurious duvet felt exquisitely soft and cool beneath her naked, heated skin. She reclined, propping herself up on her elbows and peering at him with a mixture of suspicion and arousal.

“What are you going to do?” she asked when he just stood entirely still, watching her. If it weren’t for the glint of lust in his eyes—not to mention his cock pressing against the front of his shorts—she might have thought he was entirely impassive.

“I’m going to use a device to position you,” he said calmly. He walked toward a closed door.

“Why can’t you just ask me to take whatever position you want?” she wondered out loud.

“I could,” he said, opening the door. She sat up slightly when he walked behind it and she could no longer see him. A moment later, the door tipped wider and he spoke as he came out of the unseen room. “And that could be gratifying, too, if you took those positions and held them of your own free will. But this”—he emerged carrying an indefinable handful of black leather straps and hooks—“will assure that you stay comfortable while holding the positions I want. Remember, Harper. All you have to do is tell me to release you, and I will.”

His stern, steady voice jerked her gaze off the contraption he carried. He’d seen her anxiety while she stared at the device.

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“I don’t know,” he said, taking several steps toward her. “You either do or you don’t.”

Her nipples had drawn very tight, from the air-conditioned air, anxiety, or arousal, she couldn’t say. In the end, she said the only thing that seemed evident to her at that moment.

“I do,” she whispered. “I can. On this, anyway.”

He walked toward her, the device grasped in his hands.