Cyberevolution Book One: The Awakening: Fifty Shades of Dark Kaitlyn O'Connor by Kaitlyn O'Connor, Kimberly Zant, Marie Morin, Stacey St.James, Goldie McBride (13)

Some of Anna’s pleasure diminished. “It’s a nice fantasy, anyway, isn’t it?” she said a little wistfully as she turned away and headed out of the store again.

Simon stared at the change blankly as she placed it in his palm. When he looked up at her his face was filled with intent. Pulling her against him, he slipped his hand into the back pocket of her jeans, tucking the change in firmly and then completely stunned her by squeezing her buttock.

Thoroughly disoriented, Anna stood stock still, staring at him in bemusement as he released her and strode back to his car.

She was still wondering what Simon had meant by the gesture when he helped her to carry her boxes upstairs. Moving around her, he headed down the hallway and opened a door on the opposite side of the hall from his bedroom door. “I’ve been using this for storage but I can get the boxes out of the way for you later.”

Disconcerted Anna followed him into the room. “This is fine,” she murmured when she’d finally collected her wits.

“I’ll leave you to get settled then.”

After staring around the room blankly for a while, Anna finally moved to the bed and sat down, still holding the box she’d carried up.

He’d told her he never mixed business with pleasure, she remembered and she’d still been such a sap she’d nursed the hope that he was interested in her right up until he’d settled her in the guest bedroom.

She hadn’t realized before what a hopeless romantic she was.

* * * *

Anna came face to face with Cheryl as she came downstairs. They both froze. Cheryl looked her over assessingly for several moments before her gaze moved upwards. “Good morning, Mr. Weston.”

The woman was good, Anna thought irritably. Both she and Simon looked like they’d been in a fight, and yet she’d hardly reacted to the bruises. Or maybe she’d been too busy thinking about what they’d both been doing upstairs to notice the bruises and swelling on their faces?

She dismissed that thought almost the moment it formed in her mind. Cheryl’s gaze had lingered on the battered side of her face long enough she couldn’t doubt that the woman had noticed it. So she either just wasn’t interested in what had happened or she was very good at hiding how she felt about things.

It made her wonder just how well Cheryl knew Simon and how much she had seen since she’d been working for him that she could remain so impassive about something that would have shocked most anyone and certainly have aroused their curiosity.

Despite the way she’d controlled herself, though, Anna sensed that the woman felt like she was encroaching on her territory. She wasn’t certain to what degree the woman considered it hers--job wise or otherwise--but she’d apparently decided to keep her curiosity to herself.

She undoubtedly knew Simon Weston pretty well, or at least as well as anybody could.

Anna couldn’t figure him out at all. She’d been close to having a nervous break down after the episode at the pump, wondering exactly what he’d had in mind when he’d told her she could stay at his place, and then he’d very casually dumped her in the guest room--and gone out. She didn’t know what time he’d come back but it was late because she’d already gone to bed and didn’t hear him.

She had thought that maybe he would at least want to lay down some ground rules for sharing the apartment. She would actually have appreciated it if he had, because she wouldn’t have been worried about doing something she wasn’t supposed to that might piss him off.

Now, she had no idea at all what to expect or how to behave. Should she just stay in her room and out of his way? Should she volunteer to keep the place cleaned up and maybe do the cooking since she had no money and it was fairly obvious she wasn’t going to be his squeeze?

Maybe he was just taking her share out of her pay?

She was never going to actually see any money out of this at that rate. He’d already advanced her for the car, the hospital visit--which she resented since she’d asked to go to the free clinic--gas money.

She needed to talk to him, she decided and ask for some ground rules so she could be a little more comfortable. She also needed to establish how she was going to pay him back so that she had some idea of how much money she’d have left over and how long it was going to take her to save up for another place.

It hadn’t been quite two weeks since she’d seen Liz Bridgewater. She didn’t want to seem too anxious about another appointment, but she thought maybe it would be alright to check with her by the end of the week and she could call the others then, too, and see how much extra work she was going to have. Not that she would know exactly what kind of money she was looking at. They paid her whatever they felt like paying her and it was different every time. If the piece they had bought was not as valuable as they had thought it was, then her pay suffered. If they stumbled upon something of particular rarity and value, their generosity tended to escalate with their excitement over their find.

Just as Liz Bridgewater had been unusually generous after her reading of the necklace.

She had not had a chance to look for the earrings that she’d hoped to find since she had run into Simon at the antique show, but then she had already looked in all of the places she had thought most likely to yield such a prize. It occurred to her now to wonder if the same person who had sold Ms. Bridgewater the necklace also had the earrings. Perhaps they had thought they might get more if they waited to sell the rest to her?

She should have thought of that possibility, she realized. It made more sense than the possibility that two thieves had split the spoils.

Excitement set her heart to racing at that thought. Liz would want a reading to make certain the earrings were authentic and if she was as generous in her offering as before she would have a good portion of what she would need to find a place.

She had to curb the urge to find a phone and call immediately. She was already in disfavor with Simon after everything that had happened. She didn’t want to do anything else that might piss him off.

Besides, he was interested in the earrings, or more specifically the buyer, himself. He would not be happy if he discovered he had been cut out of the deal he’d hoped to take part in.

And Liz might be totally pissed with her if she was revealed to someone she didn’t know and had no reason to trust.

Always assuming, of course, that she wasn’t working for the man that had sold Liz the necklace, she reminded herself. He was in a position to find such things, after all. She had a hard time picturing him as a grave robber, but that didn’t rule out the possibility that he’d fenced the necklace.

She had managed to finish unpacking the boxes from the show by lunch. Simon had disappeared, but since they generally went to lunch about that time, she decided to knock off and go upstairs to eat.

Realizing as she reached the stairs that the whole shop sounded surprisingly quiet, she moved to the door to the showroom and looked around discovering there was no sign of Cheryl either. Puzzled, she glanced toward the front door. It was locked, the open/closed sign turned to closed.

They must have gone to lunch together--or at least at the same time.

Uneasiness washed over her.

Should she go up or not? What if she got upstairs and discovered Simon was ‘entertaining’ Cheryl?

He’d said there was nothing between him and Cheryl, but it didn’t necessarily follow that that was true.

After standing at the foot of the stairs indecisively for several minutes, she finally decided to go up. She would be quiet and listen. If she heard anything to indicate the two of them were upstairs together, she could tiptoe away and spare herself any embarrassment.

She was uncomfortable even to press her ear to the door when it occurred to her that she might be caught listening. She did anyway, briefly. When she heard nothing to indicate anyone was in the apartment, she tried the knob. Relieved when she found it wasn’t locked, she went in.

Simon’s bedroom door was shut, but then he kept it shut. She didn’t put her ear to that door. If anything was going on in there, she didn’t want to know.

She found herself listening though, once she’d retrieved some of her food from her room and gone into the kitchen to heat it. By the time she’d finished eating, she had decided that she had the whole shop to herself. After studying the phone in the living room area for several minutes, she decided to go for it.

The maid answered on the fourth ring. “Yes. This is Anna Linstrom. Is Ms. Bridgewater there?”

“Momento,” the Hispanic maid responded.

Anna looked round the living room uneasily, her ears pricked for any sound that would indicate Simon and/or Cheryl returning.

“Anna! Where have you been? I told you to call me.”

Taken aback, it took Anna a moment to collect herself. “You said you might want a reading later in the month.”

“Never mind! The man I bought the necklace from claims he has another piece. I don’t trust him. You didn’t say anything about another piece. Did you see anything that made you think the necklace was part of a set?”

Guilt instantly flooded her face with color. Fortunately, Liz Bridgewater couldn’t see it. “I didn’t see anything that indicated that it might not be part of a set,” she hedged.

“So maybe he was telling the truth!” Liz responded, exhilaration making her voice sound high and edged with nervous excitement. “I need to find out if he still has it and set up a meeting if I can. I want you there to check it for me. I don’t want to part with that much money on a scam. Where can I reach you when I’ve got a time and place?”

“I--uh--I’ll have to call you back. I don’t have a phone.” No way was she going to give Liz Bridgewater Simon’s number, even if she’d known what it was, which she didn’t.

“Damn it! Don’t I pay you enough to get a fucking phone so I can call you when I need you?”

Anger welled in Anna’s chest. Why was it, she wondered, that the filthy rich complained about having to pay millions in taxes when they made tens of millions and thought the ‘little people’ could get by on a couple of hundred dollars a month?

“Never mind!” Liz snapped when Anna didn’t answer immediately. “Call me this evening--tenish. I should be able to get hold of him by then and have something firm.”

“Okay. I’ll call you tonight.”

She’d just leaned down to put the handset on the cradle again when she heard a faint brushing sound. It was all the warning she got that Simon had returned.

“Who was that?”

She jerked so hard she knocked the receiver off the phone. Holding her heart, Anna glanced toward the door where Simon stood. “You startled me.”

“I see that.”

He was waiting for her to answer the question. Resentment welled inside her. It wasn’t any of his business.

It was his phone, though, and his apartment.

She’d told him she wouldn’t lie to him anymore.

“David?”

Anna gaped at him with a mixture of dismay and disbelief. “NO! It was a woman I do readings for sometimes.”

He gave her a quizzical look, but she wasn’t about to elaborate.

“I finished unloading the boxes,” she said to distract him as she headed toward the kitchen to clean up from her meal. “You weren’t here, but since it was around lunch time I thought I’d stop and take a break.”

She’d heard him follow her. When she glanced around, she saw he was examining the wrapper from her noodles disapprovingly. “Would you like for me to fix you something before I go back to work?” she offered uncomfortably.

“I had lunch with a buyer.”

She nodded. “What do you want me to do this afternoon?”

He was still frowning she saw when she glanced at him. “You can help me pack some things for shipping,” he said slowly.

Relieved that he hadn’t pursued the matter of the phone call, Anna followed him back downstairs to the storage room. She had the feeling he hadn’t dismissed it from his mind, though, and wondered how much he’d heard of her side of the conversation. Despite his size, he was well coordinated and he could move very quietly when he wanted to. Besides, she’d been distracted from listening for his return from the moment she’d dialed Liz’s number. He’d been standing near the door when she saw him, as if he’d only just then come in, and it might be paranoid to think he’d been standing there longer than that, but she couldn’t help but wonder.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t recall what she’d said with any degree of certainty. The shock of discovering he’d come in while she was on the phone had wiped her memory of her own actions and conversation from her mind.

When they’d finished packing the things he was shipping, they packed the items he’d apparently sold during his lunch date for moving. Afterwards, he dismissed her.

She’d been upstairs for nearly two hours when she heard him come in. He hesitated when he reached his door, but finally went in, closing the door behind him. A few minutes later, she heard the shower.

She’d been wondering how she was going to make the call to Liz without being overheard and had already decided she would just go out, find a pay phone and make the call from there. She didn’t have any change, but she could reverse the charges. She didn’t like doing that, but she hadn’t been able to come up with an alternative.

She’d been so deep in thought, the tap on her door startled her.

“Yes?”

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

He opened the door, but he didn’t come in. Instead, he leaned against the door frame. The cologne, or aftershave, he’d put on snaked across the room towards her, teasing her nostrils.

He looked drop dead gorgeous and the cologne on top of that was enough to set her head to spinning.

A pang hit her in the middle of the stomach. He wouldn’t be dressed like that, smelling like that, unless he was meeting a woman.

“I guess we need to set some ground rules,” he said wryly.

Caught off guard, her head spinning with speculation and her libido clamoring, Anna couldn’t imagine what he was talking about.

“You live here now. You don’t have to stay holed up in one room. I gave you your own room because I didn’t want you to feel like you were being pressured to do something you might not be comfortable with, not because I expected you to confine yourself like this.”

It was a struggle to change gears, particularly since his voice was weaving a spell all its own and Anna found it really hard to concentrate on anything besides the way his pants were hugging his sex and the way the shirt he was wearing made his chest and shoulders look impossibly broad and muscular. “Okay,” she managed to say finally, hardly conscious of what she was agreeing to.

He frowned, tilting his head curiously. “Are you alright?”

“Sure.”

His gaze flickered over her where she was sitting cross legged in the middle of the bed. “Noodles for lunch, tuna sandwich for supper? Go find something in the fridge. I’m going out. I’ll be back late. You didn’t tell whatshisname where to find you, did you?”

She didn’t bother to tell him whatshisname’s name again. She didn’t believe he didn’t remember. She didn’t know why he wouldn’t use it.

“I haven’t seen him or talked to him since we got locked up.”

“Don’t. I might be tempted to kill him if I see him again.”

He left the door open when he departed.

The door of the apartment had already closed before Anna emerged from her shock at his parting shot. She couldn’t decide what to make of it. If anybody else had said it--even if Simon had said it before everything that had happened--she would have thought it was no more than a figure of speech, meaning ‘I’m going to beat the living hell out of him’. She had the uneasy feeling, though, that Simon had meant exactly what he said.

She dismissed it.

She was starting to imagine things.

Setting her half finished sandwich aside, she rubbed her aching temples. Turmoil had always been a part of her life. Like a wild roller coaster ride, it rose and dipped, peaking at the absolutely horrendous and dipping to just plain misery, but there was always something to worry about, some disaster, major or fairly minor, looming on her horizon.

In a way, she was as used to it as she was the violence that frequently erupted around her and sometimes right over her head.

It still seemed to her that her life had pivoted since she had ‘read’ that necklace for Liz Bridgewater. She’d had dreams, or nightmares, on occasion after she’d read a piece, but she couldn’t remember that the dreams had continued to plague her as long as these had--and they certainly hadn’t seemed to spill over into the real world.

Then there was the fact that she’d felt something the first time she’d touched Simon. Nothing like that had happened since, and she’d dismissed it, deciding it was just some kind of fluke, maybe an aftershock from reading the necklace, maybe totally unrelated to the necklace but because he’d been handling something just before that and it was residual vibes from that something that she’d read.

Was it, though? Or was it something about Simon himself?

Was she only imagining that he seemed to have changed? Or was she just learning things about him she wouldn’t have if she hadn’t gotten close enough to see them?

After considerable thought, she decided the latter must be the case. She had felt a sense of danger almost the moment she’d met him. Despite the fact that he’d seemed very mild mannered, she had sensed darkness simmering just beneath the surface, watchfulness.

That still didn’t explain where she figured into his plans.

He had a plan. She was almost certain of it and she didn’t think she was being paranoid or egotistical to think she had something to do with it. She just couldn’t figure out what.

He didn’t seem particularly interested in her as woman, maybe mildly, but not enough to go to all the trouble he had. As much as she would’ve liked to think otherwise, she was pretty sure he would’ve made some sort of move on her if his interests had been purely inspired by lust.

Realizing finally that she wasn’t going to figure it out with the little she had to go on, she cleaned the crumbs off of her bedspread and went into the kitchen. After glancing at the refrigerator a couple of times, she finally decided she wasn’t really hungry and moved to one of the long windows to stare out. The sun had set.

Simon’s car was gone and so was Cheryl’s.

Leaving the window, she wandered around the apartment in search of a clock. Coming up empty, she went back to her room. It was only eight.

After eyeing her book for a moment, she went back into the living room and flopped down on Simon’s couch, staring at the blank screen of the mammoth TV that sat across from it.

A remote lay on the table nearest the couch. Picking it up, she studied it for several moments and finally pressed the power button. The TV winked on, filling the room with glowing light.

The room was growing dim, she realized then. Deciding she didn’t really need the overhead lights, she went back to studying the remote, pressing buttons at random.

The next time she thought to check the clock, it was nine thirty. Unnerved to discover she’d lost track of so much time, she opted for pacing restlessly until ten instead of taking a chance on getting caught up in some TV show.

By five after ten, she’d gnawed the fingernails on one hand down to the quick. After checking to make sure Simon’s car was still gone, she raced to the phone and made her call.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to call!” Liz snapped as soon as she picked up the phone.

“Are we on?”

“Tomorrow. Be here at four. We’ll take my car to the place where we’re meeting the man. Don’t be late.”

She hung up before Anna had the chance to tell her she didn’t get off until five. Staring at the phone in consternation for several moments, she finally dismissed the urge to call her back. Liz had already made the arrangements. She wouldn’t be happy about having to change her plans, might not be able to.

She should have told Liz she couldn’t make an appointment before six o’clock.

Damn it!

It probably wouldn’t have made any difference if she had. Liz would have simply ‘forgotten’ if it was inconvenient to her.

She had a bad feeling Simon wasn’t going to be happy about her asking to take off early.

Why couldn’t anything in her life be easy? Just once in a while. Was it asking too much?

It didn’t take a lot of thought to realize that she couldn’t tell Simon the truth. He would be outraged, she suspected, and not without reason if she told him she needed to get off early because she had work to do for somebody else. After all he’d done for her, particularly considering how much money she already owed him, it would be like a slap in the face and she just didn’t see him taking it any other way.

She couldn’t afford to ignore Liz’s summons, though. Aside from the fact that it was her best chance of coming up with the money to get her own place again, she couldn’t afford to loose any source of income.

But what story could she cook up that Simon might believe?

She had been pacing the floor for hours, gnawing off her remaining fingernails, before it dawned on her that waiting up for Simon was absolutely the wrong thing to do. Hours of pacing had only produced one possible lie that seemed reasonably believable but no way was Simon going to believe she’d made an appointment at the clinic after he’d left, and he was bound to question why she hadn’t mentioned it before if she claimed she’d made it earlier in the day.

She’d only just arrived at that conclusion and headed down the hall to her room when she heard the key in the lock. Galvanized, she ran on tiptoe to her room and dove inside, closing the door as softly as she could just as she heard the outer door open.

Her heart was revving like a fire engine.

She put her ear to the door, trying to hear over the pounding in her ears.

She’d left the TV on.

“Shit!”

Flipping her bedroom light off, she dove into her bed fully clothed and jerked the covers up.

She was still straining to hear him over her thundering heart beat when her door opened and the light came on.

Lowering the covers slowly, she peered at him.

He was leaning against the door frame, his arms folded over his chest. “You need to talk?”

“What?” Anna asked blankly, struggling to pretend he’d awakened her.

“I saw the light when I drove up,” he said dryly.

Anna stared at him sheepishly. Blood surged into her cheeks until she was certain her face was flashing like a neon sign.

She wondered if he’d heard her--or worse seen her--running for her room. She had a very bad feeling that he had. “I--uh--I didn’t want you to think I’d been waiting up. I mean, I didn’t want you to get the impression that I was trying to keep tabs on you.”

“Were you?” He pushed away from the door and sauntered toward the bed. Settling on the edge, he pried the covers from her fingers and threw them back, his gaze taking in her T-shirt, jeans--even her fucking shoes!

“It’s none of my business what you do,” she managed to say finally, scooting over and then sitting up when she’d widened the distance between them.

“But you’re curious.”

“No. Not really,” she denied quickly.

He leaned back, propping his elbow on the opposite side of the bed, trapping her thighs between his arm and his hip. “Now I’m disappointed.”

His behavior caught her so completely off guard that it was several moments before Anna detected a faint whiff of alcohol on his breath. Her heart skipped several beats, but she couldn’t see anything about him to indicate that he’d been drinking heavily or that he was even slightly inebriated for that matter.

Except that he seemed to be coming on to her.

She was sure she looked as confused as she felt. She thought he might be teasing, but he didn’t actually look like he was. “Why? You’re not interested in--uh....”

He frowned. Settling heavily against her legs, he smoothed his free hand over her jeans clad thigh.

If he’d used a hot iron, she didn’t think it would have burned any more.

Her belly clenched painfully. Her heart commenced to galloping even harder than before until she had to struggle to catch her breath. “You are--painfully young and inexperienced or you would know better than that.”

It took her all of sixty seconds for the meaning of his words to filter into her erratic mind. Disappointment filled her. Was he saying she was too young and inexperienced to interest him, she wondered? Or did he think she wasn’t interested in him because he was an older man?

He couldn’t be that obtuse, not when she acted like a blithering moron every time he came a little too close, or looked at her hard.

Anyway, she knew he couldn’t be that much older than her. At the very most, he couldn’t be more than a few years older than David, who was thirty-ish, and he must know that.

What the hell did age have to do with it anyway?

It occurred to her just about the time he sat up to wonder if he’d gone out to score and come up empty.

Did she care?

She didn’t think so. Alright, maybe a little. It was lowering to think he’d picked her last, but did she really want to miss her chance just because she wasn’t getting violins and poetry?

But maybe he wasn’t actually interested at all? Maybe he was just trying to twist her to his will because he had some sort of plan she couldn’t figure out?

He was succeeding.

She moistened her dry lips as he sat up, trying to think of something to say.

He was right. She wasn’t very experienced because she’d never even tried to seduce a guy before, certainly not a man. She had a hard enough time just trying to talk to guys, which generally didn’t matter because young men, boys, were all over you the moment you stopped fighting them off. They didn’t need encouragement. If you wanted them all you had to do was not push them away.

Thank God she wasn’t on her period. She would’ve had to kill herself if she’d missed her chance because of that.

She came up on her knees as he got off the bed, her mind still racing around frantically in search of something to say. Nothing inspirational materialized.

When he turned to look at her, she grabbed the bottom of her T-shirt and dragged it off before she had time to think better of it.

His gaze flickered over her bare breasts, lingering on her nipples as they puckered and stood erect.

This was going to be really fucking embarrassing if he just turned and walked out, she thought belatedly, feeling color flood her cheeks when he simply stared at her.

 

Chapter Seven

 

Anna felt downright faint when Simon reached up and began to unbutton his shirt slowly. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath. The adrenaline rush produced by a combination of desire and anxiety made her feel as hot as fire one moment and as cold as ice the next.

His gaze held her as he removed the shirt with agonizing slowness and finally dropped it to the floor. Without haste, he tugged his undershirt from the waist of his pants and rolled it up his belly.

Anna’s gaze fastened on the wedge of skin that appeared above the waistband of his pants and followed the movement of the shirt and his hands over a washboard stomach and taut pecs.

A long scar ran from his shoulder and across one pec to almost the center of his belly, growing thinner as it made the crossing, as if something had dug deeply into his shoulder and then merely scraped down his chest and belly.

It did nothing to detract from the sheer magnificence of his body.

Anna’s mouth watered as she watched the muscles flex and bunch as he lifted his arms and dragged the shirt off over his head. She swallowed a little convulsively, almost strangling on her own saliva as he unfastened the snap of his trousers.

Pushing his shoes off his feet, he dragged the zipper downward.

Drawn irresistibly by the motion, Anna’s gaze zeroed in on the flesh revealed.

He bent over as he shoved his shorts and trousers down, and Anna’s gaze flickered briefly to his shoulders and arms.

His movements were slow, unhurried, unthreatening, the play of muscles with his movements mesmerized her, and yet uneasiness had begun to coil inside of her, threatening to oust the warm, liquid desire that had curled in her belly.

When he straightened, her gaze went automatically to the cock sprouting from the nest of hair on his lower belly. It was impressive. She hadn’t seen that many, but this one was proportionate to his size and he was huge.

It looked strangely blunt on the end.

She was still staring at it when he placed first one knee and then the other on the bed.

“You’ve never seen a man that wasn’t circumcised.”

The amusement in his deep voice caught her attention. The words didn’t even translate. He could have been speaking Swahili for all she understood.

She began to tremble when he reached for her jeans and unfastened the snap. By the time he’d unzipped them and pushed her jeans and panties down her thighs, she was shaking as if she was freezing to death.

His dark brows drew together in a frown as he settled his hands on her waist to steady her. “Are you afraid I’ll hurt you?”

She didn’t know why she was trembling so badly. “No,” she said a little hoarsely.

His expression told her he didn’t believe her. He swallowed audibly. “We don’t have to do this.”

He was wrong. She did have to. She needed to so desperately that she realized finally that that was why she was afraid, why she was trembling. She was afraid he didn’t truly want her, that he’d stop.

She sat down on the bed, pulling her jeans and panties off and tossing them over the edge of the bed. As she turned back, Simon caught her shoulders, pushing her down on the pillows and lowering his upper body against hers. For an endless stretch of time they merely gazed at each other, as if each of them were searching for something they hoped to find.

A miasma of raw emotion boiled up inside of Anna as she stared up at him. Desire was upper most. Love, pain, fear, shame, grief, and doubt wove in and around it, throwing her into utter chaos. When his gaze moved to her lips, however, she lifted them to him, ignoring everything save her craving for his touch.

His breath sawed from his lungs in a rush, as if he’d been holding it. It washed over her and through her, as warm and welcoming as homecoming. She inhaled deeply, dragging his essence inside of her, sighing with pleasure when his lips grazed hers, melded with them briefly and then opened over hers.

Heat washed over her as he thrust his tongue into her mouth, exploring the tender inner flesh, calming the tremors that still shook her. Lifting her hands, she explored his shoulders and back with her palms and fingers, explored the silkiness of his hair. She felt weak and taut at the same time, dizzy and disoriented, and yet every nerve ending in her body seemed focused upon him; the caress of his hand as he shifted his weight onto one arm and explored her body; each brush of his chest against her bare breasts as he dragged in harsh, ragged breaths; his heady scent and taste; the caress of his tongue along hers; the hard, heated length of his erection pressing against her thigh; the faint roughness of his leg as he stroked it along hers.

She tightened her arms around him, kissing him back with all the longing she felt inside of her, stroking her tongue along his, following when he withdrew and exploring his mouth as he had hers.

A tremor went through him. He closed his mouth around her tongue, sucking it. Her belly clenched painfully. Heated moisture flooded her nether regions. She slipped one hand down his back to clutch his buttock, arching upward as she pressed down on his hip.

Wrenching his mouth from hers abruptly, he shifted, cupping one breast and covering it with his mouth. She gasped as she felt the tease of his tongue on the sensitive tip, digging her head into the pillow and arching her back upward as molten electricity poured through her.

Her body burgeoned, tightened with need.

Releasing her breast, he dragged his lips along the upper slope of her breast to her throat, murmuring something under his breath, his voice husky with his own needs.

The words flowed over her like fine wine, and yet she could not identify a single one. When he’d traced a trail of kisses up her throat to her ear, she knew why.

It wasn’t English.

The need to understand what he was saying vanished as he sucked her ear lobe into his mouth, traced the swirls of her ear with his tongue. A shudder went through her at the heat that prickled her skin. When he began a downward trek along her throat again, she turned toward him. Cupping the back of his head with one hand, she rubbed her cheek against his, feeling the faint roughness of stubble along his cheek, drinking in the intoxicating scent of his skin and his cologne.

He stiffened, sucking in a harsh breath when she tugged at his ear lobe with her lips, explored his ear as he had hers.

Murmuring something she couldn’t understand, he pushed her away, levering himself over her and covering her mouth in a kiss of such hunger that it set her ablaze with need. She shifted restlessly beneath him, stroked her hands caressingly, restlessly over his body.

Breaking the kiss, he moved down her body, massaging her breasts, teasing her sensitive nipples with his mouth and tongue until she’d begun to feel feverish, delirious with need. She caught at him, tugging, trying to urge him to enter her. Instead, he moved lower, caressing her body with his hands and his lips, nibbling and sucking love bites along her mid-riff and abdomen, lathing her with his tongue.

“Simon,” she gasped a little desperately. “Please.”

He lifted his head, studying her. Grasping her thigh and lifting it, he pushed her other thigh aside as he slid between her legs and moved upwards again, pausing to caress her breasts and tease her nipples until she began thrashing restlessly against him.

Settling his weight on one arm and shoulder again, he slipped one hand between them. Skating his palm over her belly, he cupped her mound, one thick finger parting her nether lips in exploration. She gasped as he found her clit, rubbing it.

Arching up to meet his touch, she slid a hand along his arm, twisted to nuzzle her face against his. He found her lips again as he teased her, making love to her mouth with the thrust and retreat of his tongue, driving her to the edge of madness as he stroked her clit.

Groaning, fighting imminent release, she broke the kiss, almost sobbing with need, her fingers curling like claws into the bed linens. “Now, please, Simon. Come inside me.”

He let out a harsh breath and she felt him guiding his cock along her cleft, felt his cockhead stretching her. Uttering a whimper of urgency, she surged upward to meet his thrust as his cock breached the mouth of her sex, sank into her needy flesh. She slipped her arms around him as he shifted his weight, settling on his arms above her as he thrust again, and again, sinking deeper with each incursion until he filled her to her depths.

She groaned when he hesitated, panting for breath as she felt her body slowly acclimating to his. Lifting her head at last, she sucked kisses along his throat. “It … feels … so … good,” she murmured.

Groaning, he sought her lips again as he began to move, thrusting and retreating in a smooth, escalating cadence that spoke of his own burgeoning need, the rapid approach of a complete loss of control, his urgency to find completion. Tipping her hips upward, she matched his pace in counter, driving him to move faster, plunge deeper with the movement of her hips, her clutching hands, and her mounting excitement.

When her body began to convulse around his in intense, turbulent release, she uttered sharp cries of ecstasy, clinging to him tightly. He let out a deep, guttural growl that was part groan of rapture, part triumph and began to shudder with his own release.

She clung tightly to him as the tension left his body abruptly and he leaned heavily against her, breathing gustily against her neck.

A supreme sense of satisfaction went through her as she caressed his sweat slickened back.

She was his, she thought dreamily as she drifted lazily, weak in the aftermath of the expenditure of so much tension, drowsy with contentment. He’d claimed her and nobody could take that away from her, not even him.

* * * *

“Westmoreland’s banner has been spotted just over the rise, my lady!” the servant said breathlessly when she skidded into the room.

Anne and Elspeth exchanged a look, white faced at the announcement. Elspeth was on her feet even before Anne had managed to jump up from her chair. “Any word?” Anne asked shakily.

“His squire is below, askin’ for ye.”

Anger glittered in Anne’s eyes. “Why did ye nae say so?”

Elspeth stared after her sister as she rushed from the room, trying to decide whether to follow or not. She was torn, unable to bear not knowing, unwilling to go and hear the news she dreaded. After a moment, she gathered her skirts and hurried after Anne, knowing that her sister would need her support if the news was bad.

She reached the great hall as Anne rushed to meet Westmoreland’s squire. “Is he …?”

The squire shook his head. He had been weeping. “Nay. He lives, but I fear the worst, my lady. We have been moving slowly for fear of reopening the wound and he is already fevered.”

Elspeth thought for several moments that her knees would give way as she heard the news. A flicker of hope welled inside of her though. He was alive at least.

Anne glanced at Elspeth, a look of panic on her face. Abruptly, she burst into tears. “What are we to do, Elspeth?”

The desperate plea penetrated Elspeth’s own urge to give way to hysterics. Rushing over to Anne, she wrapped her arms around her sister’s shaking shoulders. “We will bring him through this, dearest. Ye must believe that. We canna give up hope before we have even seen him.”

“Tis a judgment on me. I know it.”

“Shhh,” Elspeth said urgently, mindful of the squire. “Ye do not know what yer sayin’. Ye must calm yerself. Ye do nae want him seein’ ye wailin’ like a babe! Nothin’ will more surely make him feel that he is done for than to see ye grievin’ as if he were dead already.”

The squire seemed to take the hint and departed, either that or he fled the emotions neither woman could completely contain. Elspeth was thankful whatever the reason, fearing Anne’s guilt would spill over and damn her.

“We must go out and wait for him.”

“Nay! I canna do it! He will know what I have done when he sees me!”

Elspeth shook her sister. “He will know nothing unless ye tell him and I swear I will slap ye silly if ye even think ta clear yer conscience by burdening him with yer confession. If he dies, at least let him die in peace.”

She had to drag Anne outside. When they reached the inner ward, the men were already lifting Westmoreland from the wagon. Anne cried out. The scream froze everyone in their tracks. Struggling from Elspeth’s hold, she rushed toward the men holding the litter, wailing loudly as she threw herself on top of the wounded man.

A mixture of pity and fury washed through Elspeth at her sister’s display. Anne had always been high strung and prone to hysteria in times of stress. She tried to be charitable and assure herself Anne’s display was genuine and no more than thoughtlessness, but in the back of her mind she couldn’t help but wonder if at least a part of her behavior was meant to convince everyone in the keep of her ‘genuine’ grief.

Rushing after her sister, she pulled her away so that they could carry Westmoreland inside and up the stairs to his room. “Are ye mad? Think what yer doing, Anne! He’s wounded nigh unto death now. Ye’ll open his wound again!”

She managed to get Anne into the great hall once more before her sister collapsed, wailing and rocking herself.

After staring at her sister for several long moments, Elspeth summoned the maids to attend her and rushed up the stairs to see what she could do for Westmoreland.

Terror went through her when she reached the room, for she saw her fears had been realized. The wound had reopened. She had no idea whether it was from moving him from the litter to the bed, or if Anne had done it, but there was no time to consider where to place the blame. Tearing her apron off, she rushed to the bed, wadding the cloth and pressing it tightly to his wound.

Glancing around for help, she spied Maude, one of the elder servants. The others were no doubt still trying to calm Anne. “Bring water to boil and all of the clean linens ye can find. A needle and thread to close the wound and the medicinal herbs. Hurry!”

“Anne?”

Elspeth looked at his face and saw that his eyes had opened a slit. “She is coming. She has gone to get the things we need to make ye well again.”

“I think I am done for.”

“Hush! Do nae say such things! Tis bad luck.”

“I will be needin’ more than luck this time,” he said, gasping the words out with an effort.

“Do nae talk now. Rest. I … we will take care ye, Anne and I. Ye’ll be better before ye know it.”

His eyes closed again. “Ye are fierce, Elspeth. I had nae noticed.”

Elspeth felt a lump form in her throat, for it was all too true. He had never noticed. He was a kind man, and thoughtful in many ways, but he could not see beyond the vision he had married. “Nae, ye’ve eyes for none but yer wife, as it should be.” She hesitated, but she felt that she could not live with herself if he died and she had said nothing at all. “Be strong, my lord. Ye have a woman who loves ye dearly, more dearly than life itself. Ye canna give up yer life without a fight.”

She saw when she blinked the tears from her eyes that he was looking her. “This is the truth? She loves me?”

She knew when she saw the look in his eyes that he had thought she meant his Anne. She could tell him no differently, especially not now. “How could she not when yer such a wonderful man? Has she nae told ye as much?”

He shook his head. “Nay. Not once, an’ I could nae say the words myself because I was afraid she did nae. I could nae give her that power over me. I feared she would use it against me.”

It hurt her to her soul to hear that. She knew he would not have admitted it under torture if he had not believed that he would die, but she had seen the hurt and anger and confusion in his eyes more than once when his overtures to woo his wife were snubbed with disdain at worst, or treated with scant interest at best, as if Anne considered it her due and that appreciation was not necessary.

There were times when she knew that Anne did it very deliberately because she was angry about some imagined slight, some disagreement they had had many days before that she had not forgiven him for. At other times, she thought it was no more than thoughtlessness, and Anne’s innate self-centeredness.

She supposed the reason didn’t matter. The fact was that Anne was far more fortunate than most women and had no appreciation of it. One had only to see the way he looked at Anne when he thought no one would notice to realize he adored her. He was both handsome and personable. He was strong. He was a wealthy, powerful man, and he indulged her shamelessly. How could that not be enough to satisfy any woman?

But, perhaps, the problem was that he spoiled her, for the more he did, the more she wanted and the less satisfied she was with what he could give.

As badly as she wanted to tell him what he wanted to hear, she could not bring herself to reassure him that Anne would never consider using his love against him, for she knew very well that Anne would.

Relief filled her when Maude rushed into the room again, making further conversation impossible. Lifting the apron cautiously, she peered down at his wound. It still bled, but only sluggishly now. “Tis a good thing it opened,” she said, almost to herself. “For I see now that it was in need of cleansing.”

He gritted his teeth while she probed the wound, rinsing the blood away over and over to make certain that there was nothing inside. When she was finally satisfied, she took the needle and thread that Maude had brought and very carefully closed the wound on his shoulder where a blade had found an opening in his armor. The tip of the blade had raked all the way across his chest and down his belly. If it had been more than the tip, it would have disemboweled him.

She didn’t want to think about that, though. His armor, and his skill, had spared him that horrible fate. If the fever did not kill him, he had a chance. His arm would most likely be stiff, but he could overcome that with time … she hoped.

When she had sealed the wound, she summoned men to help her and Maude undress him and bathed him, searching him carefully for any other wounds that needed tending.

He was exhausted from the pain by the time they had finished, and ill tempered, as well.

Weary herself, Elspeth looked around and saw that Anne had vanished. She had come in once, when Elspeth was examining the wound, and rushed out again. She had returned a little later, though she kept her distance.

Leaving Maude to watch him, Elspeth quitted the room, debating whether to search for Anne at once, or go to her chambers and clean up. She finally decided to find Anne first. As tired as she was, she thought she might not get up again for a while if she lay down to rest.

She found Anne in the solar, her women clustered around her nervously. Anne’s eyes as she looked up at Elspeth, were red rimmed from weeping, but the panic had receded. Leaping to her feet, she met Elspeth at the door.

“Is he …? Is he …?”

“He is resting. The fever seems no worse, nor better. We have cleaned his wounds and tended them.”

“Wounds?” Anne echoed.

“They were minor,” Elspeth responded tiredly. “Perhaps a matter for concern if not for the wound on his shoulder, but insignificant beside that.”

Guilt and resentment collided in Anne’s expression. “I suppose ye think I should have been there, but I was … ye know how ill blood makes me, and the wound was … festering. The smell … I was sick.”

Anger filtered through Elspeth’s weariness, but she tamped it. Anne could not help that she was high strung and virtually useless in any situation of extremity. When all was said and done, and despite the hurt Westmoreland might have felt from her absence, he was far better off that Anne had not been there to distract everyone with her wailing and hysterical babble. It had probably spared the poor man more than that, for Anne’s conscience had taken a most inconvenient time to display itself. And Elspeth thought she might have done her sister harm if she had persisted in her determination to confess her sins.

“It has been cleaned and bound. He is more comfortable now, but he has been asking for ye.”

Fear replaced both the guilt and the resentment in Anne’s expression. “I should go to him,” she said doubtfully.

“Ye should. He has lost so much blood--more when the wound reopened--but I think that was a good thing since it was putrid. Still, he is fevered and it may be that all we can do will not be enough. Yer place is by his side.”

Anne nodded jerkily. “I will go then and stay a while.”

Elspeth’s hand closed on her sister’s arm before she could brush past. “Do not give in to the temptation to confess what ye’ve done.”

Anne’s eyes narrowed. “Do not tell me what to do!” she hissed furiously.

“Fine! If ye canna consider his feelings, then consider that he may not die and what he will have to say to ye about your tearful confession and pleas for forgiveness when he is strong again.”

Anne’s eyes widened with horror. “Ye said....”

“I said that he might not live. He is a very strong man. He may well fool us all.”

* * * *

The scream of the alarm went through Anna like a lightening strike out of the blue. She jerked all over, bolted upright. After looking wildly around for a moment, it finally dawned on her that the ungodly noise was coming from the clock. Flopping back on the pillows, she closed her eyes with sandpaper eyelids and felt around blindly and a little frantically, searching for the button that would shut it up.

She was on the point of snatching it out of the wall when her questing fingers finally found the magic button and blessed silence settled over her.

The urge to snuggle deeper into the covers and drift off again was profound. Yielding to it, she’d already begun to drift over the edge of consciousness when a thought intruded, buoying her upward toward awareness again. After feeling around the bed for a few moments and not finding what she was searching for, she managed to pry one eyelid open and looked around.

She was alone in the bed. Frowning, she closed her eyes again.

She hadn’t dreamed last night. It was too real to have been a dream.

Opening her eyes again, she pushed up onto her elbows and looked down at herself. She was naked. She could still smell him on her skin, could smell the faint, mucky odor of sex.

Dimly, she finally recalled that Simon had left her as she was drifting to sleep.

He hadn’t slept with her--not even for a little while.

Feeling distinctly unsettled, she pushed the covers back and got up, staring at the clock blankly for some time before it finally dawned on her that it was a work day, and past time she was supposed to clock in.

Dashing into the small guest bath, she scrubbed her teeth while she was adjusting the temperature of the water, and gargled in the shower. Water was still trickling in rivulets from her hair and running down the back of her T-shirt, soaking it as she dashed out the door and down the hallway.

Simon was no where in sight, but that was hardly surprising considering the time. Without pausing to grab anything to eat or drink, she left the apartment and hurried downstairs.

Cheryl looked her over critically as she reached the lower floor and glanced into the showroom. Frowning at the look, Anna turned her back on the woman and hurried along the hall into the storage room to finish packing the pieces that were still waiting to be shipped. The brief spurt of nervous energy that had gotten her going didn’t last. Within a couple of hours she was already beginning to feel lightheaded and faintly ill from a lack of food.

She hadn’t seen anything of Simon. She’d thought when she came down that he must be in his office working. She’d begun to wonder, though, if he was even in the shop.

Since there didn’t seem like much chance of an encounter with him, she left the store room and went down to the break room in search of something to give her enough energy to make it through lunch. Relieved to find a half a pot of coffee, she mixed a cup and carried it back with her. The hot brew filled the emptiness, but it did nothing to calm her nerves which grew more and more stretched from anxiety that had little to do with caffeine.

She hadn’t really thought much about Simon leaving during the night. It had been her experience that men preferred to avoid the ‘morning after’ whenever possible. The problem with that was that she had no idea whether he’d left because he regretted the impulse, or if he’d left because he thought she might.

Or maybe the message was that she should not consider that there was any significance to their having had sex?

It had seemed meaningful to her at the time. In spite of her thoughts prior to their intimacy, she’d felt that he was making love to her, not merely easing himself on the nearest handy female.

Was his absence a clear message that she’d been right to start with, that he’d been horny and she’d been handy? Or did he have business that he had needed to take care of?

She ran out of anything to do to keep busy before lunch. She’d thought she would skip lunch since she needed to leave early, but since she didn’t know of anything else to do to keep busy, she went upstairs to find something eat.

The vague hope/fear that Simon might still be upstairs vanished when she reached the apartment. When she’d eaten, she decided that she couldn’t avoid the possibility of an unpleasant confrontation any more. She would have to risk it if she was to have anything to do.

Going downstairs again, she braced herself and headed purposefully toward Simon’s office.

“He isn’t there.”

Halting in her tracks, Anna pivoted to look at Cheryl. “He’s not here?” she asked a little blankly. “But--I don’t have anything else to pack.”

“He told me that you would help me when you’d finished with the packing. I assumed he’d told you.”

Embarrassment colored her cheeks at that last comment. She didn’t believe for one minute that Cheryl had ‘assumed’ any such thing. She just wanted to rub it in that Simon had left without saying anything at all to her. Without a word, she followed Cheryl to the back. After collecting cleaning and polishing supplies, they headed to the front again and Cheryl instructed her on the proper care for the wooden furnishings, leaving her to polish the furniture by herself.

‘Helping’ Cheryl, she supposed, boiled down to acting as Cheryl’s flunky for the day. It was obvious to her this was usually Cheryl’s job.

Dismissing the vague sense of abuse, Anna settled to the job. “Do you think he’ll be back soon?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

“I doubt it. Why?”

Anna frowned. “I have an appointment at the clinic at four. I need to leave here by three.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to leave at three,” Cheryl said dismissively.

When she’d moved back across the show room and planted her ass on the stool behind the counter, Anna shrugged her irritation off and concentrated on her job. Cheryl had told her she needed to be careful to work the concoction Simon had mixed into the wood and not get it on the upholstery.

Oddly enough, she found the task appealed to her. The need for concentration soothed her since it made it more difficult for her mind to tease her with what ifs, and it was a pleasure to see the warm gleam of wood the oils brought out with a little buffing.

Her mind drifted after a time, but to more pleasant thoughts as she recalled the way Simon had caressed her, the feel of his body beneath her palms and fingers.

“I wouldn’t strain my arm patting myself on the back if I were you,” Cheryl said tightly, breaking into her thoughts.

The antagonism in the comment pierced her glow more than the words themselves. “What?” she asked, looking up to discover that Cheryl had crossed the room once more to watch her.

“If you’ll pardon my plain speaking, you did more than fuck the boss last night. You fucked yourself.”

Anna was so stunned to hear such talk out of Cheryl she could only stare at her blankly while the remarks slowly worked their way into her mind.

Cheryl knew. Because he’d told her, Anna wondered, torn between disbelief and the fear that he had been discussing her. Or did she just suspect? And what did she mean by that last comment?

He never mixed business with pleasure.

“What do you mean by that?” Anna demanded angrily.

Cheryl shook her head, her expression carefully sympathetic though Anna didn’t fall for it for one moment. “I knew I had you pegged right from the start. Simon had his own agenda, though. I saw the way he looked at you the first time you came in. Exactly what did you think you had to recommend you for this job? You’ve no skills, no education to speak of. I’ll bet you didn’t even finish high school, let alone get any further. You don’t really think Simon fell for that song and dance of yours about being psychic?

“He wanted you and he is absolutely ruthless in going after what he wants. That’s why he’s so successful. It takes ruthlessness.

“In spite of all that, though, he still loves his wife.”

Anna felt a crushing weight descend on her. “His wife?” she asked weakly. “He said he wasn’t married.”

“His wife’s dead. She has been for years, but that changes nothing. His heart still belongs to her and always will. The problem is, he’s still a man--very much a man. He can only bear abstinence for so long before his needs overcome his control. And then he hates himself. He might be gone a week, or longer, but he’s punishing himself for his faithlessness and, take my word for it, he won’t be able to look at you without thinking about the fact that you tempted him beyond bearing. He’ll hate you, too.”

Anna felt sick. She didn’t want to believe Cheryl and yet she was having a hard time convincing herself that none of it was true, that Cheryl had only made it up. “How is it that you know so much? He told me there’d never been anything between you and him.”

Cheryl reddened. “He goes to her grave every year on the anniversary of her death. Every … single … year. I’ve been working for him for over ten years. I know because I always make his travel arrangements. I also know what happened to the last two women he took to his bed. He sent them packing. The last girl was here two years before he caved in to temptation. The one before that almost four. You haven’t even been here a week, but that isn’t something you need to be congratulating yourself over,” Cheryl tossed at her over her shoulder as she stalked back across the shop.

Anna watched the woman as she searched for something agitatedly behind the counter and finally grabbed a set of keys and headed for the front door. When she’d locked the door and turned the sign, she returned to the counter for her purse. Unable to resist, Anna crossed the room and stopped Cheryl in the hallway before she could leave. “What does Pardonnez-moi, mon amour, mon Elise doux mean? Do you know?”

Cheryl stared at her almost pityingly for a long moment and this time Anna didn’t doubt that the pity was genuine. “It’s French. It means, forgive me, my love, my sweet Elizabeth.”

Anna nodded, swallowing with an effort against the hard, painful knot that formed in her throat and refused to be dislodged.

When Cheryl had gone, she stared a little blindly around the show room. Finally, she peeled off her work gloves and dropped them and climbed the stairs. She sat on her bed staring at nothing for some time, trying to decide what she wanted to do. It was no contest, really. She hated confrontations in the worst way. No matter how reasonably they might start out, they always degenerated into ugly accusations at the very least and, at the worst, violence.

She didn’t want to believe anything that Cheryl had said. Regardless of what Cheryl seemed to think, she was no fool, though. She knew the motivation behind Cheryl’s revelations hadn’t been because Cheryl was moved to pity for her. It had been a very calculated mind fuck, and yet in her heart she felt that the most important aspects were absolutely true.

Cheryl’s claim that she had been working for Simon for more than ten years was obviously a gross exaggeration meant to underscore her vast personal knowledge of him, she was sure.

She wasn’t certain she even believed the tales about his other women, except that Simon had made that remark about not mixing business with pleasure which seemed to imply that he’d had experiences that had taught him it wasn’t wise.

The translation, she believed. Maybe it wasn’t exact, because it hadn’t sounded quite like that when Simon had muttered the words over and over when he’d been making love, or rather fucking her, but she thought it was close enough to mean crushing heartbreak for her if she was stupid enough to hang around long enough to be sent on her way.

He’d left as soon as he’d finished with her the night before. He’d avoided a confrontation by making himself absent. Maybe he was thinking things over and he would decide in her favor, but she doubted it.

It took all she could do to keep from bursting into tears to know that he’d been begging some dead woman for forgiveness the whole time he’d been using her and the worst of it was that she didn’t know whether she felt sorrier for him for his grief or sorrier for herself. She finally managed to generate enough anger to fight the urge to weep at bay, though.

Cheryl was right. She was a nobody, an insignificant speck of humanity that went unnoticed most of the time. If she’d been beautiful, educated, sophisticated--come from a family with money, things might have turned out differently. Not only was she not, but Simon had been thoroughly initiated into the world she hailed from. How could he help but be repulsed by it and her? The rest of the world, the people from his world, either lived in terror that disaster would befall them and they would end up living alongside the dregs of society, despised them because they didn’t understand that it wasn’t a matter of choice or laziness, but rather a situation that was nearly impossible to escape, or just pitied the poor who lived there and salved their conscience by ‘good deeds’ and tried not to think about or look at the suffering that went on. The one thing they all seemed to have in common, though, was revulsion that survival for the poor meant that they lived little better than animals, in filth, in violence and mostly without any dignity.

Rising finally, she packed the few things she’d removed from the boxes and began to carry them out to her car, stowing them in the small trunk. Unless Liz was amazingly generous, she was probably going to be sleeping in the backseat for a while.

Her stomach knotted. She hadn’t had to live in her car for a while, but unfortunately it hadn’t been long enough to forget how scary it was.

If she’d believed in such things, which she didn’t, she would have to wonder what she’d done in her past life to have produced such bad karma.

Unfortunately, there was really no one, nor even one thing to blame for her situation. If she hadn’t been born ‘strange’ maybe she would’ve stood a chance of being adopted instead of growing up in the system. Maybe she would’ve gotten an education. Maybe she would’ve met the right guy in college and married and lived among the people that made up society instead of being one of the ‘bottom feeders’. Maybe, if she’d had a little more self-confidence and determination, she could’ve made it by using the system in her favor.

Maybe.

Her chances of pulling something like that off now were virtually nil.

Maybe, she thought a little more hopefully as she left the antique store behind, what she needed to do was to save her money until she could get an apartment suitable for entertaining clients? She had the gift. It wasn’t something she could get rid of. Maybe she could exploit it to make a better life for herself?

She didn’t actually feel all that hopeful. She felt like she’d just arrived at the end of the world, but she didn’t want to think about Simon or anything that had happened. It was easier, better, to look forward and she focused on trying to come up with some sort of plan as she made the drive to Liz Bridgewater’s house.

She was early. The sonofabitch in the guard hut wouldn’t let her go in. Turning around, she drove down the road until she found a shady spot to park the car and pulled in to wait. The heat made her drowsy. She had to struggle to fight off the temptation to go to sleep. Finally, when she’d reached a point when she felt like she couldn’t stand it anymore, she tried the guard again. She was still early, but he reluctantly called Liz and she was allowed to enter.

* * * *

Simon waited until he was certain Anna wouldn’t turn around and leave again before starting his car and pulling out into traffic. The guard lifted a hand as he pulled to a stop at the barrier and trotted out to lean down and look at him questioningly when he’d lowered his window.

“Mr. Weston!” he exclaimed in surprise. “When did you get a new car?”

Simon smiled easily. “I haven’t yet, Clarence. Just testing it. Tell me, who was in that car that went in a few minutes ago?”

The guard glanced around as if he might still see the vehicle. “Some fruit cake that comes in a couple or three times a month. She’s supposed to be a psychic.”

Simon lifted his brows questioningly, but his smile had vanished, the guard noticed, and he didn’t look at all pleased. “She had an appointment?”

He wasn’t supposed to talk about the residents, even to other residents, but he could see he’d said something that had pissed Weston off. Eager to make amends, he supplied the information. “Ms. Bridgewater,” he acknowledged. “You won’t tell anybody that I told you?”

Simon fished a hundred dollar bill out of his money clip. “Not a soul. Bridgewater,” he added thoughtfully. “I don’t recognize the name.”

“Liz,” Clarence added, stuffing the bill into his shirt pocket. “She’s been here a few years--three or four anyway. A widow. A real looker, too,” he added with a wink. “I’m surprised you haven’t met her at the club.”

Simon smiled thinly. “But then I rarely go to the club. What’s her address?”

“She’s in number 102--it’s in the new section that was built a few years back. A big stucco house. Ugly if you ask me, but not everybody with money has taste like you do.”

Smiling grimly, Simon nodded and put his window up then, waiting for the guard to trot back to the guard shack to lift the barrier.

When he reached the intersection, he turned toward his own house. Clarence was nosey, which was probably why he was good at his job. He would definitely make a mental note of it if he saw Simon turn toward Liz Bridgewater’s place directly after he’d asked so many questions about it.

Bypassing the gate to his house, he circled the block and followed the road to the ‘new’ area that had been tacked onto the ‘old money’ section of the subdivision. Here there were raw, ugly, lots stripped to the dirt with only a few trees dotting them. He passed several houses with well established lawns--rolled out probably--many of the houses looked too fresh to have been there long. There were three or four giants going up in various stages of completion.

He’d been driving unhurriedly. He slowed to a near crawl as he reached the gate for number 102, glancing along the drive. There was no sign of Anna’s car, but as he pulled past the main gate, he caught a glimpse of it parked in a courtyard to one side.

Depressing the accelerator, he drove past, stopping finally when he found a lot that had a for sale sign in front of it.

When he’d pulled his car to the curb, he got out and began to wander around, staring up at the trees, but making certain that he kept a view of the road and Liz Bridgewater’s gate in sight.

He’d begun to think he was going to have to wander around the lot until he aroused suspicion when he saw a car pull out the gate, hesitate for a fraction of a second and then head out. It was a powder blue Mercedes, he saw, making a mental note of the license plate.

Unhurriedly, he returned to his car, drove to the next intersection and turned toward the entrance once more. The car was just turning out onto the main road when he caught sight of it again. There weren’t any turn offs in that direction for at least four or five miles, he knew, which should give him plenty of time to get close enough to tail them.

Clarence looked surprised when he drove past again, but there was no hope for it. He had no idea of where they were going and no way to find out without following them.

Things would’ve been much simpler if Liz Bridgewater had already had the earrings in her possession.

* * * *

Anna had managed to achieve a measure of calm by the time she pulled up to the gate at Liz Bridgewater’s house and rang for the maid to let her in. Tapping her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel while she waited, she stared at the house, as if she could will the woman to move a little faster.

It was hot in the car. Worse, the afternoon sun was coming directly in her window and it felt as if it was burning a hole in her.

For some reason she wasn’t entirely sure of, her gaze focused on the façade of the house and she realized she’d never done more than glance at it as she drove past, never really studied it.

She had no idea what style the house was supposed to be, but she realized suddenly that it reminded her of something she’d seen somewhere, though she couldn’t place where she’d seen it. Most specifically, the huge arched row of widows directly above the main entrance teased at her.

Maybe in a book?

She couldn’t remember passing a house or building in town that looked anything like it.

The arches reminded her of one of those really old churches around town, she finally decided as the gate began to open and she was at last allowed entrance.

The maid was waiting at the back door when she reached it. More than a little surprised, Anna wiped her feet carefully on the mat outside and went in, blinking to help her eyes adjust to the interior.

Liz was pacing the room when she reached the great room, looking less than her usual unruffled self. Her eyes gleamed with a mixture of excitement and anxiety when she turned at Anna’s entrance. “You’re early … for once.”

It sounded like an accusation. “I didn’t want to be late. You were mad last time.”

Liz shrugged it off. Turning, she strode to her chaise and dropped down on it, but she’d hardly settled when she was up and moving again. “I don’t know if I’m more excited or more nervous,” she muttered.

Frankly, Anna thought she looked like she was scared shitless. Before she could think of anything to say, though, the sound of the sliding glass doors drew her attention.

David, wearing a jock sock type of swim suit and dripping water as if he’d just climbed out of the pool, stepped through.

Anna’s heart hit her toes. Feeling as if she might pass out, she dropped ungracefully to the couch.

David sent her a narrow eyed glance, the fury glittering in his eyes in direct contrast to the slow grin curling his lips.

“You should get dressed,” Liz said, lifting a hand toward him.

He caught it, leaning down to lay a thorough, slurpy wet kiss on her before he straightened again. “It’ll only take me a minute, baby,” he murmured, throwing Anna a provocative glance as he moved beyond Liz’s view.

“Do you know Anna? Oh, that’s right!” Liz added with a chuckle. “I’d forgotten. He’s the one that introduced me to you, isn’t he?”

She couldn’t tell whether Liz was gloating about her supposed ‘theft’ of Anna’s ex boyfriend, or if she really hadn’t remembered the history. She was in no state to read between the lines. She was too stunned by David’s unexpected appearance for many moments to get beyond their last confrontation.

By the time he emerged from the nether regions of the house again, her shock had thawed enough she realized that he must have called Liz to bail him out of jail.

She’d had no idea there was ever anything between the two, but she couldn’t think of any other explanation for David’s presence in Liz’s house, particularly since it was obvious he was living with her.

She was tempted to bolt. She didn’t want to be anywhere near David, drunk or sober. Her needs outweighed her wants, though. She was flat broke and had nowhere to go, nowhere to turn. She needed the money too badly to give in to hysterics and flee.

“We’ll take my car to the rendezvous, of course,” Liz announced when David returned. “You want to drive?” she asked, dangling the keys at him.

He pulled her into a lazy embrace, kissing her again, hunching against her thigh. “Why don’t you drive? I’ll just sit back and enjoy the view.”

Disgusted with the play, which she suspected was at least partly for her benefit, Anna looked away. “I’ll just follow in my car.”

“You’ll have to ride with us. They won’t like it if two cars show up.”

Giving in to the inevitable, Anna followed Liz and David out to the garage and climbed into the backseat. The car had never been intended as a ‘family’ type car. As small as Anna was, the backseat was still cramped, especially when David pushed his own seat back to accommodate his long legs.

He was practically sitting next to her.

He gave her a narrow eyed ‘cat that ate the cream’ look, draping his arm casually along the back of Liz’s seat.

His elbow rubbed along her knee.

Uncertain of whether it was intentional or not, Anna shifted as far from his touch as possible, which wasn’t nearly far enough. As Liz paused at the gate, his hand slipped down, his arm dropping across her thighs. Very casually, he slid his hand up her thigh to her crotch, digging his fingertips into the seam over her cleft.

Anna grabbed his hand, giving his thumb a twist before she shoved his hand off of her.

Chuckling, he draped his arm across Liz’s seat again.

“What?” she asked, glancing at him with a half smile that was nevertheless filled with suspicion. “Did I miss something?”

He leaned toward Liz, watching Anna while he explored her ear with his tongue. “I don’t know, did you, baby?” he drawled huskily when he withdrew again.

Liz looked at Anna in the rearview mirror. “Should I trust him, Anna?”

“About as far as you can throw him,” Anna retorted.

Liz laughed. “I think he might just have told me the truth about the two of you.”

Anna glanced at the back of David’s head, wondering what lies he’d cooked up. Resisting the temptation to inform Liz that David wouldn’t know the truth if it bit him in the ass, she ignored the provocative remark and focused her attention on the passing scenery.

She felt ill though, and not just because David was present and seemed determined to toy with her.

David giveth and David taketh away. She doubted Liz would call her again.

She couldn’t see any sign of jealousy in the woman, but it was obvious she thought of David as her new toy and she had no desire to share him.

Given the distance and the afternoon rush, it took well over two hours to reach the meeting place. Anna began to feel uneasy the moment Liz turned off at the docks. Warehouses lined the roads that crisscrossed along the waterfront. Liz tapped the steering wheel irritably as they drove up and down one road after another, checking the numbers on the buildings. Finally, she pulled up in front of the last building in the row.

It figured.

Liz flipped open the glove box when they’d stopped. Grasping what was inside, she pulled it out. “You know how to use one of these?”

“You point this end at the bad guys,” David said dryly. “And pull on his little hickey here, right?”

“Smart ass!” Liz snapped, but without heat.

“You think we’ll need a gun?” Anna asked uneasily.

“I’d rather be safe than sorry. I’m carrying a lot of cash.”

 

Chapter Eight

 

Anna was pretty sure she’d never been more scared shitless in her entire life. If she’d known it would go down like this she would’ve refused to come. Starving was preferable to getting her head blown off, or spending the rest of her life in jail.

She should have known, she realized. Instead, she’d been so wrapped up in her own problems, she hadn’t given the situation the consideration she should have. She hadn’t liked the fact that she was expected to take part in the actual purchase when she never had before, when she’d been called in after the fact to do a reading, but she hadn’t dreamed it was going to be anything this cloak and dagger and potentially disastrous.

When Liz and David climbed out of the car and stretched, she glanced around the warehouse area furtively, wondering if federal marshals and customs agents were positioned behind every fucking door and window that faced the warehouse.

She was moving into the big time now.

If they got caught, she was going to end up in a federal prison and she’d probably never see the light of day again.

That was always assuming that whoever was waiting for them inside didn’t blow her brains out.

Reluctantly, and more because she didn’t want to be left alone than because she had any desire to go in, Anna pushed the seat back up and crawled out. Without glancing in any direction, Liz struck off toward the small door at one end marked ‘office’. David scanned the tops of the building, the perimeter of the warehouse itself, and searched the windows facing the building through narrowed eyes.

Quaking inwardly, Anna followed the two of them, wondering if she had enough starch in her knees to run if she needed to or if she would simply collapse in a spineless, jellyfish heap at the first sign of a threat.

The door wasn’t locked. Liz opened it and went in. Crossing the room, she went out a door on the other side.

Trying to comfort herself with the thought that Liz had probably done this very thing many times and didn’t seem the least concerned, Anna glanced a little longingly at the outer door and hurried to catch up as both David and Liz disappeared down a narrow hallway.

The door at the end opened up to a warehouse that was stacked with boxes and crates from the cracked concrete floor almost to the exposed girders two stories up. Across from them, Anna saw a set of metal stairs leading up to a room that looked out over the floor below. As Liz headed toward the stairs, a man stepped out of the office above them, watching them as they crossed the warehouse and wound their way toward the stairs. He met them at the top.

“Who are they?”

“He’s my bodyguard. She’s here to assess the value of the pieces.”

The man glared at her, looking Anna over. “You don’t trust Mr. Hawk all of a sudden? You got to have the pieces checked?”

“I haven’t bought anything this expensive before,” Liz said tightly, making no attempt to hide the fact that she was indignant at being questioned.

He studied her for a long moment and finally transferred his gaze to David. “He carrying?”

She gave him a look. “He wouldn’t be much use to me as a bodyguard if he wasn’t, would he? Look, it’s hot as hell in this fucking box. Are we going to do this or not?”

Shrugging, the man stepped back and opened the door to the office. Chilled air drifted out. Anna shivered as she followed Liz and David inside, but only partly because of the air conditioning after the heat. The man carrying the automatic entered the room directly behind her. A spot right in the middle of her back burned as if she could feel the muzzle of the gun pointed at her.

Liz settled in a seat in front of a desk occupied by a man that, strangely enough, looked like an ordinary business man. In fact, he was very ordinary looking period. Average height and build, average face. She doubted he would have any trouble at all going unnoticed.

If this was what a jewel thief looked like, then she’d misjudged Simon. There was nothing common or ordinary about Simon at all.

David, after glancing around the room, moved to position himself in the corner near the door. The seller’s guard had taken up a position behind his boss.

“I have the money,” Liz said without preamble, “But, as I told you when we spoke on the phone, I’ve brought someone to examine the pieces. I want to be sure they’re authentic before I shell out this much money. I have to tell you I don’t like the fact that you asked twice as much as you did for the other piece.”

Shrugging, the man pulled a drawer out. “There are three pieces,” he said, taking a box from the drawer.

Anna’s belly clenched and both Liz and David tensed as he opened the drawer.

Setting the box on the desk in front of him, he opened it, removing a piece of black velvet. After placing the bundle on the desk, he pushed the box to one side and very carefully unrolled the fabric.

Liz gasped rapturously as the jewelry was revealed.

Anna watched her uneasily as she picked the pieces up and examined them.

She was so caught up in her excitement over the pieces Anna had begun to wonder if she would even ask her opinion. Finally, she carefully replaced them on the velvet and glanced at Anna. “Tell me what you think,” she said a little breathlessly.

Anna thought she was going to pass out. She knew even before she picked up the bracelet that it was a reproduction, a very good one, but far less valuable than the earrings simply because it had been designed and made recently.

Slipping a trembling hand around the bracelet, she held it under the light of the lamp sitting on one side of the desk. The jewels embedded it the piece winked with true fire. Visions crowded her mind, but no emotions. She returned the bracelet. Hesitating, she finally picked up one of the earrings and curled her fingers around it.

The next thing she was aware of was faces bending over her. Her head felt as if it would split--or already had. Grunting, she pushed herself up from the floor and felt her head. Without surprise, she found a goose egg on the back. She had a smaller one on the side of her head.

She’d fainted, most likely hit the corner of the desk and then the metal floor plates.

Someone had removed the earring from her hand.

David hauled her to her feet, dropping her in the chair Liz had vacated. Still disoriented, fighting the darkness that threatened to swallow her again, Anna held her head in both hands.

“What the fuck is going on?” the seller demanded, obvious thoroughly rattled by what had happened and suspicious that they were attempting to pull one over on him.

Shaking off her disorientation, Anna lifted her head and looked at him. “The earrings are authentic. They belong with the necklace you bought before.”

Liz knelt beside her. “What about the bracelet?” she demanded.

Instead of answering her at once, Anna glanced at David. His face hardened.

“The bracelet is an excellent forgery and very valuable, though not nearly as valuable as the earrings. Old jewelry was used to make the bracelet itself and the stones came from something old, too. They were cut to match the cut of the earrings, but this piece was designed and made very recently.”

Which explained in part why they’d sold the necklace and held onto the earrings. They’d needed them to copy the design.

The seller, ‘Mr. Hawk’, stared at her in shock for several moments before he recovered himself. “You believe that shite?” he muttered, his accent unmistakably British.

Liz gave him a look that was equal parts satisfaction and fury. “Yes, I do. I wouldn’t have brought her if I didn’t trust her. The question is, did you know? Or did you have the piece made yourself?”

The man glared at her. “We settled on a price,” he growled.

“Based on all of the pieces being authentic. The bracelet isn’t.”

“She didn’t even use a jeweler’s piece!” Mr. Hawk exclaimed furiously. “The gems are real. I checked them myself.”

“I didn’t say they weren’t,” Anna said. “They are real. They are valuable. The gold the bracelet was fashioned from is even from an antique piece of jewelry, but it was originally a necklace, and only dated back a couple of hundred years. It’s valuable. It just isn’t worth nearly as much as the earrings.”

Mr. Hawk totally lost his temper then. Anna could see from his expression that it was because he knew she spoke the truth. “Suit yourself. I’ll find another buyer.”

“I’m still willing to buy the earrings.”

“They go with the set.”

“Exactly. They go with the necklace I already bought. But the greatest value of these pieces is their history, not the jewels, and you damned well know it or you wouldn’t have tried to pass the forgery off on me.”

“After all the years we’ve been doing business, you’re going to take that stupid chit’s word over mine?”

“Yes. Do we have a deal or not?”

He seemed taken aback for a moment. Slowly, his anger surged to the forefront again. After glaring at Liz in impotent fury for several heartbeats, he finally settled in his chair again. Silence reigned while he considered the situation. Finally, he named a figure that made Anna feel faint all over again.

Liz countered with another amount.

After haggling for nearly ten minutes, they settled on a price. Looking supremely satisfied, Liz took the earrings he had wrapped in the velvet once more and placed them carefully in her purse. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll give you your money,” she said, heading toward the door.

Anna got to her feet unsteadily. The look both of the men gave her made her distinctly uneasy and she made no attempt to keep up with the group as they trouped down the stairs and across the warehouse. They kept glancing back at her, as if they more than half suspected she was trying to slip away and go back for the bracelet. Between fainting and abject terror, her legs felt like rubber. It was all she could do to make it out of the warehouse again. She felt slightly more at ease once they were outside. There wasn’t much activity in the area, but she didn’t think it nearly as likely the transaction would erupt into a shoot out with the potential for witnesses.

Apparently, Liz had thought so, too. Opening the driver’s door, she flipped the seat back out of her way and lifted the rear seat of the car.

Anna felt vaguely nauseated at the discovery that she’d been sitting on top of the money.

Counting the stacks of bills, she dropped them into a plastic shopping bag and finally dragged the bag out. “It was a pleasure doing business with you again, Mr. Hawk,” she said pleasantly as he took the bag.

When the two men had disappeared inside the warehouse again, Anna crawled into the backseat, wilting against the upholstery. Liz got in behind her. After studying the warehouse suspiciously for several moments, David slid into the passenger seat.

Relief didn’t sink in until they were on the highway headed out again. When she’d finally convinced herself the thugs weren’t following, Anna began to feel some of the chill of her terror dissipating. The drive back to Liz’s house didn’t take quite as long, but the sun had already set when she pulled into her garage.

“You don’t need to come in,” Liz said as she got out. Lifting the seat, she gathered the stacks of bills that remained, stuffing them into her purse. After studying the last stack thoughtfully for several moments, she handed it to Anna.

“That’s a lot of dough,” David drawled.

Liz sent him a sharp glance and then smiled at Anna. “Don’t be cheap, David. She saved me a lot of money. I could almost kiss her!”

Anna returned the smile with a weak one. She didn’t linger.

She wasn’t totally convinced they hadn’t been followed, either by the thugs themselves who might want the rest of the money, or by federal agents. The anxiety she’d felt from the moment they’d stopped at the warehouse still lingered and she wasn’t certain it was purely paranoia because she’d just taken part in a horrendously illegal transaction.

She was almost as horrified at the stack of bills Liz had handed her. Excitement vied with fear as she climbed into her car and looked around for a safe place to hide the thousand dollars.

If she was to get pulled over and the cops found that much money on her she would be in jail before she could spit. Almost as bad, it was all hundred dollar bills and she knew she was going to have a really tough time getting anyone to take them--especially from her. The places she usually did business with didn’t like taking such large bills, and she was going to stand out like a neon sign if she waved one around.

Stuffing one of the hundreds in her jeans pocket, she pulled up the edge of the loose floor carpet and stashed the rest. After studying the floor for several moments, she decided the lump was too noticeable and pulled it out again. Finally, she divided the bills into four stacks and stuffed one under the carpet, one through the rip in the passenger seat, one in the upholstery on the back of the driver’s seat and the last under the edge of the carpet in the back.

There was always a silver lining to everything, she thought wryly as she started the car and left Liz’s mansion. If she’d had a decent car, she would’ve had a much harder time finding places to tuck the bills out of sight.

On a brighter note, it was probably enough to get her into a cheap apartment. It was already getting dark, though, and she couldn’t even start looking before the next day.

A thousand was a lot of money, but since it was all she had at the moment between herself and nothing she decided it was just as well. She needed to give it a lot of thought before she parted with any of it. Then, too, there was the idea about trying to get a better place so she could set up shop as a psychic. Of course, there probably wasn’t much chance of that now unless she could find another job.

She didn’t know what she was going to do about the money she owed Simon, but as badly as she felt about it, she couldn’t give him what she had. She supposed she was just going to have to try to put it behind her like the rest of her past. He was going to think she’d screwed him over for the cash, but it couldn’t be helped and he probably had a really low opinion of her anyway.

And why should she care, really?

He was just like every other man she’d ever known. He’d just wanted to get into her pants, except he hadn’t really wanted to get in her pants. She’d been a substitute.

She would’ve felt a lot safer if she’d thought she could get away with parking the car along the street in one of the better areas of the city. She knew better, though. The cops patrolled those streets. They’d make her move the car if she stayed very long.

Alleys were out, too. Parking in an alley was a red light to cops. They’d be scoping her out in no time at all, certain she had burglary or something like that in mind, which would mean searching the car, which would mean jail because they weren’t going to believe she’d gotten that money legitimately, and she knew they’d find it--and she didn’t suppose she had gotten it legally when all was said and done. She couldn’t picture Liz bailing her out, though.

She stopped at a convenience store for gas. They wouldn’t let her pump without paying, and they wouldn’t take the hundred--pointing at the sign that said ‘nothing bigger than a twenty’. She argued with the clerk for a few minutes and finally gave up, used the bathroom and drank as much water as she could hold and then left again.

She wasn’t going to make it through the night without having to pee, but she knew she’d dehydrate in a hurry as hot as it was.

It was almost completely dark by the time she found a likely looking place to park the car. There were a number of other vehicles parked next to the curb, but not so many that the cops would be checking them hourly. After scratching around on the floor, she found a rusty screw driver and pushed the seat back so that she could take the inside door panel off. She was dripping wet with sweat by the time she managed to maneuver the window back onto its track. With great care, she slowly rolled it upward until it butted tightly against the top of the door.

She didn’t feel like trying to put the door panel back on. It would probably be a waste of time anyway. Instead, she tossed the panel and the screw driver into the back seat, locked all of the doors and finally wilted into her seat again, leaning against the door.

It was stifling hot in the car, especially after all the effort required to get the window up, but she wasn’t going to be able to sleep with the windows down. She’d wake up with her throat cut--or with her pants down around her ankles.

She was just contemplating putting the windows down anyway when she heard the scrape of a shoe against the pavement. Someone hit the window behind her head.

It promptly fell off its track and slid down into the door.

Fully expecting to see a cop uniform, or a thug, Anna jumped nearly out of her skin as she whirled around.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” Simon growled.

Anna gaped at him, too stunned to think for many moments. “Uh--waiting,” she finally said weakly. “How did you--what are you doing here?”

Something flickered in his eyes. “I saw the car and followed you. What are you waiting for? Heat stroke? Or muggers?”

Anna rubbed her throbbing head, but after the initial surprise had worn off, it occurred to her that she had no reason at all to lie to him. “I figured I’d look for a place to stay in the morning.”

He studied her in silence for several moments. “Move over,” he said abruptly, grabbing the door handle.

“It doesn’t … open.”

The whole car rocked as he gave the door a yank, but the catch gave. The hinge squawked shrilly as he opened the door. Anna scrambled toward the passenger seat as Simon slid into the seat she vacated. He shut the door, shifting so that he was facing her, one leg bent, his knee resting on the seat. Dropping an arm across the seat back, he studied her with a faint frown, his gaze wandering over her face speculatively. “Is this about what happened last night?” he asked finally, his voice carefully neutral.

Anna drew her knees up, leaning back against the opposite door. “I thought … Are you sorry it happened?”

His frown deepened. She could see from his expression that he was trying to decide how to answer her question. “Should I be?”

That wasn’t very helpful. It didn’t tell her a thing except that he didn’t want to get trapped into saying anything until he knew how she felt about it.

And she really didn’t want to spill her guts until she knew how he felt about it. Finally, she decided to take the plunge. Maybe it would be embarrassing, and maybe not, but she’d been humiliated plenty of times. She’d get over it. “The thing is--I’m not. Sorry, I mean. Or, I wasn’t. But then you weren’t there, and I got to thinking about what you’d said about not mixing business and pleasure. And, well, I did notice you’d been drinking last night. You didn’t seem drunk, but I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you’d had a little more than I thought and you were regretting it. So, I thought maybe it would just be less uncomfortable for both us if I just left.”

“But you didn’t actually have a problem with it yourself?”

Anna looked at him a little doubtfully. If she said no would he think she was a slut, she wondered? “No,” she said hesitantly.

“You don’t sound very certain.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” She frowned. “The thing is I’ve been thinking about it today and I realized I was upset when I decided to leave and not thinking very clearly, but it was probably the best thing anyway.”

Anger glinted in his eyes. “This is best for you?” he said, gesturing around the car.

“It’s only temporary.”

“Five minutes isn’t temporary enough,” he growled. “If you’re not comfortable about sleeping with me....” He stopped. “I’m not going to pressure you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Anna looked at him miserably. “I don’t think I could stand that.”

“Stand what? You can stand this better?”

Her chin wobbled. “Staying just because you felt sorry for me, or … or guilty about me not having a place. And I couldn’t stand it if you just didn’t want me anymore. And, if you did, and then later you didn’t....” She bit her lip. “I’m afraid.”

“Of me?” he asked sharply.

She shook her head. “I’m afraid I’ll do something stupid like fall in love you and you’ll hate it and it will just break my heart.”

Several emotions flickered across Simon’s face in quick succession. Finally, he reached for her and dragged her toward him.

“I’m sweaty,” she complained.

“I don’t care,” he growled, tucking her against his shoulder and curling one hand along her cheek, forcing her to look up at him. “If I give you my word of honor that I will take the most tender care of your heart, do you think we could get out of this bloody heat?”

The question drew a chuckle from her. “You want me to come back?”

“I’ve not been sitting in this bleeding hot box for twenty minutes because I felt the need for a sauna.”

“You’re sure?” she asked, giving him one more chance to change his mind.

The amusement left his eyes. “I’m as bloody confused as you are, Anna, but I’m certain of this much. I’m not leaving you here.”

It was an honest answer even if it wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear. She nodded, trying not to mind the disappointment.

“Just leave the car,” he said as he got out.

“I need it.”

He studied her for a long moment, looked the car over with an expression of disgust, and finally turned and strode away. Adjusting her seat so that she could reach the pedals, Anna glanced in her rearview mirror, watching as he got into a car two cars behind her. It looked darker than she remembered. Deciding maybe it was only because it was night, she started her car and drove to his place. She saw when he’d parked, though, that she hadn’t been mistaken. It wasn’t the car he’d been driving.

“Did you get a new car?”

He glanced at it and then at her. “I’m thinking about it,” he said finally, placing his hand along her back.

“I need to get my stuff out.”

“Leave it. I’ll get it in the morning.”

“But … I don’t have a change of clothes.”

He slid a speculative glance at her. “I’ll loan you something.”

She needed more than a t-shirt, but she decided not to argue the point. She was just plain exhausted, from the heat, from her emotions, from the reading earlier, and from the fear that had dogged her all the way to the rendezvous and back. All she really wanted to do was to cool down in the shower, wash the stickiness from her skin, and collapse on the bed.

Simon slipped an arm around her waist as she headed down the hall toward the room she’d been using. Redirecting her toward his own room, he guided her into the bath and finally released her, reaching into the shower to adjust the water. Anna watched him, wondering at his intentions, feeling her emotions peeking and dipping like a roller coaster at the conflicting thoughts that pelted her.

When he was satisfied with the water temperature, he switched the shower head on--shower heads. Water jetted from a half a dozen spouts set in three walls. Surprised, Anna moved closer to study the water streams colliding from every direction in the center of the shower. She saw when she turned to look at Simon that he had discarded his shirt.

He moved closer, grasping the hem of her shirt and pulling it off over her head.

Smiling at him a little uneasily, she kicked her shoes off and unfastened her jeans, following him into the shower as he discarded the rest of his clothes and stepped in.

The water was cool, but not uncomfortably so, just cool enough to lower the temperature of her skin. Simon turned and lifted his face to one of the larger shower heads set high on the wall, allowing the water to cascade over his face and then the top of his head and back.

She watched the play of muscles along his back and arms as he braced his hands on the tile walls and leaned into the water, watched the glistening cascade of water over his back, feeling warmth burgeon inside of her.

As he pushed backward slightly, though, and the water ceased to run down his back, she saw a network of scars along his back, his sides, his arms, all faded to thin, pale lines, the longest running along one side nearly a foot, others mere inches.

Consternation filled her. What had happened that he would have so many scars on his body, she wondered? Without even considering what she was doing, she lifted a hand to trace one long scar along his shoulder, thinking about the pain each scar represented, how much he must have endured from such wounds.

It was small wonder that he was so reluctant to allow anyone very close when he had suffered so much physical and emotional pain in his life. She hadn’t considered before that his stony, seemingly impenetrable façade was a protective wall. She had thought that he was just naturally reserved and cool, not that he might have developed such iron self control because of pain he’d endured before.

It made her throat close with empathy.

He stiffened at her touch, but he did not pull away.

Moving closer, she traced the scars her fingers had explored with her lips, wishing she could remove the painful memories, erase them from his mind. Slowly, he turned to face her. Instead of lifting her gaze to his, she examined the scar across his chest as she had those on his back, moving her fingers along it gently, as if she thought it might still pain him.

She found other scars she hadn’t noticed the night before, hidden beneath the dark hair on his chest. When she looked up at him finally, she saw that he was studying her intently, his expression carefully guarded.

She wanted to ask him what had happened, how he had come to suffer so many wounds, how he had survived. She did not think her prying would be welcome and, in any case, she didn’t want to resurrect his pain in his mind. Instead, she kissed each one as she had those on his back, feeling tremors run through him with each touch of her lips.

He caught her face between his palms, tipping it up so that she was forced to meet his gaze. For a long moment, he merely stared into her eyes. Abruptly, his face twisted with anguish. “C'est vous, aimé,” he murmured harshly, dipping his head and covering her mouth with his own.

The heat and raw hunger of his kiss scalded her. Her bones seemed to melt, taking every ounce of strength from her as molten need poured through her, scouring her mind of reason or thought. She closed her hands on his waist to steady herself as dizziness followed swiftly on the heels of desire, an inebriation born of her body’s yearning for his possession.

Breaking from her lips, he kissed her throat as feverishly and then sought her lips once more, briefly. Pressing his forehead to hers, he struggled for control, breathing harshly. “Mon désir accable ma raison. I can’t trust myself,” he muttered finally, his voice barely above a harsh whisper.

Anna looked at him in confusion when he stepped away from her, releasing her. “I--don’t understand.”

“Nor do I,” he murmured, smiling wryly before he turned away.

It dawned on Anna as she stared at his rigid back in stunned dismay that he didn’t realize that he had been speaking French, not English. Doubt surfaced in the next moment, but she dismissed it very quickly. She was certain she was right, certain it wasn’t some ploy to intrigue her, not an attempt to hide his thoughts. He didn’t realize that he slipped into another language when he made love to her. It was as if he subconsciously reverted to his native tongue.

That made no sense at all to her, though. His accent was plainly British. Even the way he spoke at times was more British than American.

Had his wife been French, she wondered abruptly? Was that why he reverted to French in times of passion?

She felt a little ill at that thought and more ill when it occurred to her to wonder if she reminded him of his wife. Was that why he was so conflicted?

Because she realized he was. Even though she hadn’t understood exactly what he’d said, she felt that he’d been telling her he couldn’t think straight and he didn’t trust his judgment.

As troubled as she was by her thoughts, she pushed them aside. Unable and unwilling to deal with them at the moment, she focused on her bath, trying to remove the trials of the day as much as to cleanse herself.

He stepped out of the shower as she moved beneath the water to rinse the shampoo from her hair. Lingering until he had left, she finally turned the water off and got out to dry herself. She found one of his undershirts hanging on the doorknob. Slipping it on, she left his room. He strode toward her even as she hesitated, wondering whether to go and look for him or directly to bed.

“I’m tired,” she said as he slipped one arm around her waist. “I thought I’d go to bed.”

“Have you eaten?”

Amusement touched her. “You are always asking me that.”

“Which means, no. Come on. You can sleep once you’ve eaten,” he said, moving his arm to her shoulders and guiding her toward the kitchen.

She bit her lip when she saw he’d made omelets.

He looked down at the plates and then up at her. A slow grin dawned. “All right, so my entire cooking repertoire revolves around eggs and steak. No steaks in the fridge, so you get eggs.”

She chuckled. “You were trying to impress me.”

“There is that,” he said wryly.

She felt better once she’d eaten, less tired and washed out, but she wasn’t particularly comfortable with the idea of strolling around his apartment in nothing but a T-shirt after what had transpired in the shower even if the t-shirt did cover her to mid-thigh. When they’d finished, she took care of clean up.

He’d vanished into his room by the time she’d finished cleaning the kitchen.

Sighing, she went to her room and threw herself face down on the bed, wishing he’d finished what he’d started, whatever had driven him to kiss her to begin with.

She’d initiated it, she realized a little guiltily. He’d said he wouldn’t pressure her and instead she’d pushed when he obviously still had issues he was dealing with. She’d only meant to show her sympathy for his past wounds, but she knew the caresses had been too intimate for him to interpret them other than an attempt at seduction.

What, she wondered, had caused the scars? And when had it happened?

Long ago, she knew. They were not recent. Many had become little more than pale lines across his swarthy skin.

A car accident? Was that what had happened to his wife? Was that why he was so tormented by her loss? A sense of guilt?

The longer she knew him it seemed the more questions she had and the less answers.

She could not avoid the knowledge, though, that he had promised her nothing more than to do his best not to hurt her. He had admitted that he was as confused and conflicted about his feelings for her as she was. She was just going to have to accept that she could not push him, or lead him. He would sort his own feelings in his own way and in his own time. She would have to guard her heart the best she could.

Which was what she feared most, because she had no confidence at all that she could share herself with him and remain aloof and untouched and she didn’t think she could bear being around him and behaving like they were strangers. She desired him. She’d wanted him before. Now that she’d experienced intimacy with him it was only going to be that much harder to live with the lack of it.

Her boxes had been set inside her door when she woke the following morning. Sluggish from sleep, Anna got up and got ready for work.

Simon had already left the apartment and after downing a piece of toast and a glass of juice, Anna hurried downstairs.

She met up with Cheryl, who was just arriving, when she reached the hallway.

For many moments, they merely stared at each other assessingly. The color that had left her face when she’d encountered Cheryl rushed back with a vengeance when she looked up and saw that Simon had stopped in the hall, a faint frown between his eyes as he divided a glance between her and Cheryl.

Shoving past the woman, Anna headed toward the back, pretending she didn’t notice the piercing glance Simon sent her as she passed him.

After a moment, she heard him stride toward the showroom.

Uneasiness settled in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t mentioned Cheryl, however, and she doubted if Cheryl was stupid enough to tell him of their conversation.

Dismissing it, she went into the work room to see what Simon had left for her to do.

* * * *

“In my office,” Simon said abruptly as he strode past Cheryl. Without waiting to see if she was following, he went in and settled behind his desk.

Cheryl entered shortly behind him, trying to behave unconcerned, though he could see that she was nearly as pale as Anna had been a few minutes earlier.

She grew more agitated as he studied her. Finally, she flounced into the chair opposite his desk. “Whatever she told you I said to her, I doubt there’s a grain of truth in it.”

Fury instantly replaced suspicion. Simon’s lips tightened. “Have I ever, by look, by word, or deed, given you the impression that I would welcome you meddling in my private affairs?”

Cheryl swallowed audibly. “No sir.”

“What did you say to her yesterday?”

Reddening, Cheryl shifted uncomfortably. “What did she tell you I said?” she hedged.

Straightening in his chair abruptly, Simon jerked his desk drawer open and pulled out his checkbook. Cheryl jumped nervously as it hit the desk top with a loud smack. “I should have known she didn’t arrive at her decision without a push in that direction,” he muttered angrily, flipping the book open and glancing around his desk for a pen.

“She didn’t tell you anything?” Cheryl asked a little weakly.

“No. You did,” he growled, scribbling on the blank check and then tearing it from the book and dropping it to the desk in front of her.

Cheryl stared at it as if it was a snake. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s three month’s severance, enough to hold you I should think until you find another job.”

Her jaw dropped. “You’re firing me? Over that … that....”

“Careful,” Simon growled menacingly.

“I’ve been working for you for over ten years. I can’t believe you won’t even give me a chance to explain!”

His eyes narrowed. “Has it been that long?” He opened the check book again and filled out another check. “One year,” he said, dropping that check atop the previous one.

Tears welled in her eyes and began to roll down her cheeks and drip off her jaw, but he could see they were as much from suppressed rage as hurt. “I only told her you would get rid of her like you did the others once you were tired of fucking her,” she said angrily, surging to her feet. “Are you angry because I warned her?”

Simon got to his feet slowly and leaned toward her, resting his hands on his desk. “I found her in her car in one of the meanest bloody areas of this city. Just be glad that I found her before anything happened to her. I have never touched a woman in violence in my life, but I’m not at all certain I wouldn’t have wrung your neck if she’d been hurt because of your meddling.”

She fell back a step at the violence in his voice. Recovering after a moment, she snatched the checks off the desk and stalked toward the door. She paused there, turning to glare at him. “I told her about your wife. I figured she ought to know you have no feelings for the living and never will have. What ever you say or do, that’ll be in the back of her mind and she’ll never trust you. She’ll know she’s just a substitute for a dead woman.”

“Get out, damn you!” Simon roared.

He settled heavily, wearily in his desk chair when she’d slammed out of the room, struggling with the rage still roiling inside of him, fighting the urge to go after her and break her neck.

The battle inside him made him feel vaguely ill. He’d struggled for more years than he could count to learn to contain his rage, control it, keep it from spilling out into completely unacceptable actions. It was almost as infuriating to discover how closely those old instincts dwelt beneath the surface as it was to consider the reason for his anger.

“Women!” he growled finally, surging to his feet and moving to the bar along the back wall of his office. His hand was trembling so badly as he poured the drink into his glass that he spilled it on the top of the bar, further exacerbating his nerves. Ignoring the spilled liquor, he downed the contents of the tumbler in one gulp, squeezing his eyes closed as the fiery liquid burned a path down his throat and settled in his belly.

After staring at the empty glass for several moments, he set it down. There’d been a time when he indulged heavily enough that a dozen glasses would have had little effect on him, but that was long ago. Three glasses now would be enough to make him stupid and god only knew what the repercussions would be.

Settling in his chair again, he rubbed his eyes tiredly and then scrubbed his hands over his face, willing calm to come to him.