Fire and Ice

Fire and Ice by Eve Langlais

Fire and Ice By Eve Langlais

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Fire and Ice by Eve Langlais

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Fire and Ice Copyright© 2011 Eve Langlais ISBN: 978-1-60088-654-6 Cover Artist: Cris Grifin Editor: Stephanie Parent All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Cobblestone Press, LLC www.cobblestone-press.com

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Chapter One The smell of fear and anticipation filled the room. Breath held, body clenched, waiting… The whip whistled through the air, then landed with a crack on the bare white buttocks peeking out from a pair of black leather chaps, the perfect ensemble for the masochist who enjoyed a good beating. The masked dominatrix pulled the whip up with a fierce yank and let it fly again. Thwack. The nicely landed shot left a throbbing red line across her client’s pasty skin. “Thank you, Mistress,” blubbered the leather-clad figure on his hands and knees—the only acceptable position for a submissive like him. But he’d spoken. The nerve. “Silence, worm!” she thundered. “I did not give you leave to speak in my presence. Just for that, I will forgo the treat I had planned for you.” She actually hadn’t planned anything extra—her fatigue pulled at her, making her eager to end the session. But just the thought of having displeased her made her pathetic subject squirm in contrition. At least he showed brains enough not to reply this time, just ducking his leather-masked head down submissively, as if the mask could conceal his identity. Surprise, surprise. She’d easily figured out the identity of her masked slave at their first meeting. Only Zorro and Batman had ever successfully succeeded with that lame ploy. Pathetic. She coiled up her whip. It would need a good cleaning and oiling later to keep the leather supple and in good whipping condition.

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She stored it inside her large hockey bag—more like her portable dungeon with all the easily carried tools of her trade: whip, flog, paddle, ball gags, rope, and a myriad of other painful-looking items. Slipping on her long black trench coat, she buttoned up to hide her eye-popping, head-to-toe ensemble consisting of a black lace corset, skintight leather pants and over-the-knee, supple leather, four-inch-high stiletto boots. When one played a part, one had to dress the part. The mask she left on—she never took it off until she hit the road and pulled her version of a Clark Kent. “I will be back next week. Same time and place, but in the meantime you had better think about how you offended me. Do it again and maybe I’ll never return.” A sob answered her along with a frantic head bob. About time he started obeying the training she’d subjected him to. She always made the rules clear from the beginning and expected strict obedience to them. The number-one rule being, “Don’t speak unless ordered to.” She had no interest in anything her clients had to say. They were just a means to an end. Grabbing the thick envelope off the motel’s scarred dresser, because after all nothing in life was free, not even a good beating, she shoved it inside the inner pocket of her trench coat and went out into the night. God, the exhaustion threatened to drag her down, and she still had a twenty-minute drive to get home. Throwing her dungeon gear into the back of her cherry-red Beretta—old, perhaps, but still her baby—she put the car into gear and swung out onto the main road. Only once she hit a red light did she peel off her mask and pull out the envelope to check the amount. He knew better than to short-change her, but it always paid to check. Five hundred and fifty bucks. Not bad for an hour of beating the hell out of and berating some stuck-up suit. Usually she charged five notes, but it seemed her little toy had included a tip for a beating well done. As a professional dominatrix, she did not play sex games, and her subs were lifestyle pain worshippers. They got off on being humiliated and beaten by hand, whip or anything else her vicious mind could come up with.

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Gross, some would say, but it sure helped out with her living expenses, and she enjoyed the position of control. After four years of pro Domming, she had managed to almost pay off her mortgage. Not a bad feat for a single woman living on the outskirts of a metropolitan city. It helped that she charged premium rates too. Five hundred dollars an hour or eight hundred for two. When she’d first started out, she’d been astonished at how much respectable men would pay to be treated like dirt. And she loved being the one to dish it out. Her reputation for being merciless ensured she had a full stable of subs begging for her services. It seemed her endless supply of anger had finally become useful. The only problem was that no matter how much she hit and hurt, her deep well of rage remained bottomless. Started as a form of therapy, Domming had ended up instead being a nice cash bonus each week. She even paid taxes on it, thus enabling her to claim all her expenses, because her freelancing as a Domme didn’t come cheap. Leather and PVC outfits, quality ones, cost big bucks, as did the tools of her trade. Paddles, whips, canes, clamps, good rope, ball gags... And the list went on and on, depending on a domina’s field of expertise or offered services. The funniest part about it all, though, was no one knew. No one suspected that prim and proper Marissa Masters—the irony of her name didn’t escape her—the efficient, no-nonsense city clerk by day, turned into a leather-clad cat woman at night. Good thing too. Most of her coworkers hated her—she strictly abided by the no-friends-in-the-workplace adage. If they even so much as guessed, they’d report her and have her fired. Unfair, but true. Oh, they’d come up with some bullshit excuse, but she’d get fired nevertheless. Never mind her professionalism and dedication to her work. Office politics always won out. So like the mysterious Batman, she changed persona in secret and stalked the streets at night, under the cover of darkness, punishing the weak and, well, giving to herself. Pulling into her driveway, she stifled a yawn and decided to leave her bag in the trunk. Time enough to deal with it later, once she’d rested. Or maybe she’d just leave it there. Her next appointment three days from

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now would require it, and the stupid thing weighed a ton. Jaw cracking on a large yawn, she told her mind to take a break and stumbled off to bed, alone, just the way she liked it. ***** Across town... A phone beeped, a glaring, ominous sound that signaled the much waited for incoming message. Right or wrong—time to find out. Grabbing the silver iPhone from a polished wood table, quick fingers pressed and loaded the incoming e-mail with attachment. In plain black and white, the text of the e-mail relayed nothing. “As per our arrangement, please view the attached video. Contact me if more research is required.” A click on the attachment icon and a little movie window popped up. A foot impatiently tapped away the seemingly interminable wait as the clip buffered into memory. Time for the moment of truth. The clip started to play, and with each stroke of the whip, a cracking sound that echoed loudly in the quiet of the room, the hand clenched tighter and tighter. At the end of it, silence reigned as the person absorbed the ramifications of what he or she had seen. Anger bubbled below the surface, the situation even worse than expected. This perversity would not do at all. So many hopes, dreams, ambitions—all of it ruined if the knowledge held in the damning video became public. The phone went flying and hit the wall hard before falling to the floor—another victim of this folly. No, this could not be allowed. It needed to be stopped. But how? Perhaps, one of the parties could be made to see reason. Intimidation first, then onto stronger tactics. There could be no hesitation. Action had to be taken before all they’d worked for turned to dust and graced the front page of a newspaper tattle rag. Retaliation and cleansing of the impure one would taste so sweet.

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Chapter Two Working in her garden always had a “Calgon take me away” effect. Like a soothing song and all over body massage, gardening relaxed her and made her happy—well, as happy as she seemed capable of. Marissa enjoyed the straight rows of plants, not a weed in sight; they wouldn’t dare! The garden was an organized beauty that she shaped and created. Okay, so she had control issues—who didn’t? Even the bugs that sent most women screaming added to her enjoyment. The fragile silken threads of a spider web with drops of dew clinging precariously, a natural masterpiece. The buzzing bees, her helpers for a healthy cross-pollination of her many perennial breeds. Wiggly worms, tunneling through the smooth dark dirt, providing aeration to the roots below. Yes, happiness could always be found in her garden. However, right now she wasn’t a happy gardener. Not even close. Try pissed off. Holding on to her temper by a thread. Ready to rip her hair out and totally understanding the term “going postal.” The beautiful, quiet serenity of her garden, full of buzzing insects and singing birds with gentle rustling breezes, had been invaded by the most horrible of things. A nightmare of gigantic proportions. An unthinkable, noisy disaster worse than nails on chalkboard or the rat-tat-tat of sledgehammers. Children. Not in her garden—thank the good lord she didn’t believe in—but next door, where the vacant house had finally found new

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occupants—unfortunately. Their loud, shrill voices were a rude cacophony on what should have been a relaxing Saturday afternoon. Each giggle and shriek made her wince, and she held back an urge to scream over the fence like a fishwife. Shut up, she projected mentally to no avail. She needed a distraction. Humming a favorite Mozart symphony under her breath—Symphony number 36 in C major—she tried to drown out the irritating sounds and sink back into her calm oasis. “Over here,” yelled a high-pitched voice, followed by a long scream. An intelligible reply came back accompanied by—shudder—giggles. Then, more shouting in an even higher-pitched tone, along with hysterical laughter. Damn, there were more than one. Multiplying like little bunnies and noisier than crows at four in the morning. Marissa leaned back on her haunches and sighed. Why can’t people live by the adage that children should be seen not heard? Not a hard principle to follow, surely. As Marissa prepared to stand up with the intention of voicing her thoughts—very loudly—on the subject of offensive, uncalled-for noises, aka giggling, a most unlikely sound emerged from her mouth instead. “Ooomph!” A large round object had come sailing over the fence through the air, hitting her square in the chest and knocking her flat on her back. As she lay stretched out in the grass—surely staining her neatly pressed clothes, and wheezing for air as the ball had hit her square in the diaphragm—she mentally prepared the speech, make that tirade, she’d be delivering once she learned to breathe again. ***** “Daddy, our ball went over the fence,” shouted Avery, his oldest, if you could call being five old. “Ball,” declared his littlest guy, almost three-year-old Mason, pointing a chubby finger at the fence.

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Both of his sons turned to face him with expectant looks. He knew the look, the one that said “Daddy will fix it.” And in the face of such cuteness and faith, how could he not come through? “All right, guys, keep your pants on, Daddy will get your ball back.” Dammit, he’d done it again. Why did parents always speak of themselves in the third person? He’d always sworn he’d never do it, yet now whenever he spoke to his boys he always referred to himself as Daddy—no longer an “I,” but some other person known only as Daddy. Must be a brain disease that hits not long after the birth of children. Also causes very unmanly speech like, “Does you little bum have a stinky?” or “Want some yum-yums?” Other side effects included spit-up on anything clean, scribbles on any piece of paper of importance, sleeplessness and oh, the best part, a great big warm, fuzzy, protective feeling inside. He admitted it. He loved his kids—grubby fingers, chocolate-covered faces, disaster-causing angels. His angels. Who were still looking at him, somewhat impatiently now, as he stood beaming at them vacantly. Oops, better get moving. Dirk walked over to the short fence, eyeing it. Only five feet high and made of boards. No barbed wire, electrical current or spikes—piece of cake. And no, he’d rather not explain his history with fences. Bunching thick arm muscles, he gripped the top of the fence, then swung his legs and upper body up and over, landing—crunch—in someone’s well-tended garden. Oops. Lifting one large black boot, he winced at the crushed greenery beneath it. He should have probably looked before he’d hopped. Or maybe I should have used the gate, said his newly found conscience. Shut up, he snarled back. This whole being respectable thing was still kind of new. All these rules over proper behavior and such were so annoying, but glancing back at his boys watching with wide eyes, he couldn’t deny the necessity. Dirk needed to make sure his boys didn’t follow the same paths he had. Which meant no more fence hopping. Next time he’d go around and knock and ask to get the ball, even if it took

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longer. Next time—right now, with the damage already done, he might as well just grab the ball and apologize later. Or he could start apologizing now. Dirk winced as he saw a wheezing woman sit up on the grass, the children’s large ball clutched in her perfectly manicured hands. “Yours, I presume?” said the very pissed-off lady acidly while arching a neatly groomed, dark brow at him. “You know, most people would knock and ask permission to have their flying projectiles returned instead of trespassing and destroying private property.” Dirk felt his cheeks get hot—What the hell? Since when did he blush?—and sheepishly jumped out of her garden onto the perfect lawn before clearing his throat. Talk about a flashback to grade three and that awful teacher Mrs. Johnson. She’d also known how to make him feel two inches tall without ever raising her voice. Still embarrassed, but determined to redeem himself, he shot the lady a smile. “Yes, well, I’m sorry about that. Not used to having neighbors and all. I promise, no more fence hopping in the future.” “That would be wise, although perhaps it would be even better if you had your children”—she pronounced the word with distaste—”keep their toys on your side of the property line. I did not purchase this house so that it could be turned into a public playground.” Whoa. What’s with the attitude? Who the hell shoved the stick up this lady’s ass? Make that two sticks. Someone call a doctor! His smile faltered a little. “Hey, kids will be kids. I’ll try and make sure they keep the ball on our side of the fence.” And warn them about the bitch—er, witch—next door. Seeing her struggle to stand while still holding the ball, he held out a hand to help her up, but quickly withdrew it at the arctic glare she threw at him, which went well with her tight-lipped, pinched countenance. Suck on many lemons lately? said his not-easily-quelled inner voice. Pity she had such a foul character, though, he thought as he appraised her very properly attired body. Who wore a cream-colored blouse and pleated linen slacks to garden? Her face might not be called cute—too bitchy for that—but her features were certainly striking. Angular cheekbones a model would kill for, a straight nose and slightly

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slanted dark eyes framed by jet-black hair that just brushed her shoulders. Hard to tell what her lips looked, though, as they were drawn so tight with disapproval. Another thing for a model to gnash her teeth at was this woman’s height. Tall, almost as tall as his six foot one, with a slim, very leggy frame—leggy enough for her legs to wrap twice around a man, that was, if you could find a man brave enough to try. Judging by the slight swell in her blouse, she lacked cushion in the chest area, but then again more than a handful was a waste anyways. Her waist indented nicely, small enough, he’d even dare say, for a man to span with his hands. Not that he’d be laying hands on the ice princess. She’d probably make him wash them first. “Here.” She thrust the ball at him, suddenly jolting him from his frank perusal. She unfortunately also disturbed his interesting thoughts on ways to melt an ice princess and remove a stick all at once. “The gate is that way,” she said, pointing up the side of her house with a perfectly manicured finger. Wanna bet her toes are perfect too? “Listen,” he said, trying to salvage this disastrous first meeting with his new neighbor. He gave her his most charming smile—the one that always got him laid. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. Why don’t we start over? My name is Dirk, and I’m your new neighbor. I just moved here with my two boys. I’m a mechanic and part owner of the garage...” She arched a brow at him, a trademark of hers apparently, and gave a ladylike snort. “I’m sorry, did I give you the impression I cared who you are or what you do? I like my peace and quiet. I have no interest in being your friend or getting to know you and your progeny. Please latch the gate when you leave.” And with that she turned away from him, somehow resisting his killer smile. She marched off with a stiff back, giving him the view of her surprisingly shapely ass wiggling as she stalked into her house through some sparkly clean patio doors. What a bitch, Dirk thought, as he carried the ball under one arm and went through her side gate, latching it shut loudly. Just his luck, he’d

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moved in next door to the neighborhood pain in the ass. He’d have to warn the boys to stay away. The ice princess didn’t seem to have a maternal bone in her body. Hell, she didn’t even seem to be familiar with the concept of politeness or civility. Of course, he might be a little bit at fault, him and the boys, accosting her like they had. Not exactly a great way to make a first impression. So how to make amends? Maybe a blow torch to thaw her? A good shag to remind her she’s a woman? Offer to find the stick that seems to be making her so uptight? Funny as those thoughts were, he decided a replacement plant for the one he’d destroyed would probably work as a better apology. It was what a respectable member of society would do, or at least he thought so. He’d have to check his book on manners. ***** Marissa stalked into her bathroom, still fuming, and stripped out of her grass-stained pants with a very unladylike curse and sprayed the ass of them with a stain remover. She also took off her blouse—the ball had hit it dead center, so she was probably covered in kid germs. Better safe than sick. She stuffed it into the laundry hamper, then sauntered in bra and panties into her white-on-white bedroom to change into something clean. The nerve of that man! Vaulting that big muscled body of his over the fence like some action-movie hero and trampling her poor Aspen Poppy with his big black boots. Dirty redneck with his grease-stained T-shirt hugging a thick barrel chest, straining at the seams over bulging barbell arms. Not to mention tight, holey jeans almost splitting apart over his thick muscled thighs. Apparently the concept of using a clothes washer on a regular basis and putting rags where they belong, in the garbage, never occurred to him. A big dirty redneck all in all, but oddly enough dirty as his clothes were, his head had been clean shaven and his goatee neatly trimmed to frame his rugged face. A vain redneck? Did such a thing exist? If I were inclined to that type of man, you could even say he was handsome

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in a rough, bad-boy biker kind of way. And you could just tell by the naughty grin he subjected me to that he’d be a powerful lover who did things fast, hard and sweaty. Shudder. If she ever took a lover again, he’d be slender like her, professional looking as well as very, very clean and obedient. No way would she ever get involved with an aggressive, overly sexed man. Marissa liked to be in control. Her misery with her first husband had taught her that lesson. What she wouldn’t give for five minutes in a room with her ex to show him what she’d learn since she went pro Domme. The idea of him on his knees begging almost made her swoon in pleasure. Hold on. Why the hell am I thinking about sex and men anyways? Surely I am not so starved for male attention that the redneck next door actually managed to wake my fossilized libido? Oddly enough, though, and to her vast annoyance, for the first time in a long—very long—time, Marissa could feel her blood flowing. Awareness of her body flashed through her, and her nipples tightened into hard little nubs. She even felt a coiling warmth at the apex of her thighs as she remembered his rude appraisal of her body. Looking at her like a piece of possible ass, one he mentally undressed and did... Ewww! Time to stop her mind from slumming. Rushing out of her bedroom, Marissa grabbed a bottle of Fantastic and proceeded to clean like a madwoman on a mission, scrubbing her already sparkling kitchen, as if cleaning would erase the smut inside her mind. Three hours and two bottles of Fantastic later, she finally managed to regain her equilibrium. Barely.

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Chapter Three The taste bud-tingling scent of frying onions with crushed garlic and mushrooms filled the kitchen. Her chicken, perfectly cubed, lay on the cutting board beside the pan waiting its turn. Who says single people can’t cook gourmet feasts for themselves? Marissa could feel her mouth watering at the thought of the stir-fry that would emerge from the combination of all these raw and fresh ingredients—onions, mushrooms, cilantro. A passion for cooking—the only kind of passion she now allowed—had overtaken her several years ago, and she’d embraced it fervently, to the point she’d even taken classes and invested more than she could afford on cookware. Almost as relaxing as gardening, it again gave her a sense of control, not to mention delicious food. The doorbell rang. Shoot. Eying her frying pan, the onions almost translucent and ready for the chicken, she decided to ignore whoever dared interrupt this most delicate of processes. Knock, knock, knock. The impatient sound grated on her nerves. Persistent little bugger. Sighing, she debated pulling off the pan, but decided not to ruin her dinner. She’d quickly get rid of the idiot at the door, hopefully before the onions turned black. Gliding to the door in her bare feet—she’d learned a while ago heels did not belong in the kitchen, June Cleaver I am not—she wiped her hands on her white apron, her concession to the paragon of the kitchen,

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before opening the door to blast whoever had the nerve to disturb her. However, the words never came out, for as soon as she opened the door, a pot with an overflowing plant ended up thrust into her arms. “What the—” she exclaimed, startled but still catching a glimpse of a big body and a bald head. Great, the redneck has returned. “It’s a plant,” he said in his rumbly growl of a voice, which made her tummy start doing flip-flops again. Had to be hunger. No way was her body happy to see him. As for his stupid remark, duh, she had eyes. “I see that it’s a plant. What is it doing here?” She eyed the leafy green plant in her arms dubiously. “For your garden. You know, to replace the one I accidentally trampled.” “I see.” She didn’t. After all, could you call leaping over a fence and squashing her beautiful and delicate Aspen Poppy with oversized black boots accidental? And besides, much as she’d grumbled, her plant would survive the trauma. It might take a few weeks, but it would recover. Surely, he hadn’t felt guilty enough to replace it with—she peered closer at the plant—a marigold. And an orange bloom one at that. How common. “See, I felt really bad about how we met today and all, and I could see you really love your garden, so I thought I’d get you this plant to make things up to you.” And then he smiled at her, a big masculine grin replete with a mischievous dimple and a twinkle in his eye. If she were the type of woman who found that attractive, she might have melted, but she’d seen his type before. Unabashed flirt, who thought a sexy smile would solve everything. Then, the next thing you knew they were cheating on you with their secretaries and packing their suitcase. That still didn’t stop the fluttering in her tummy, though, or the dryness in her mouth. She really needed to eat. “You shouldn’t have,” she said, and she meant it. Like she’d plant something as vulgar as a marigold in her beautiful perennial garden. “Well, a pretty flower for a pretty lady,” he drawled, and then he winked. Oh, he has to be kidding. First he invades my garden, now he has the

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nerve to flirt. She’d set him straight on that score. “Sorry, but I’m not interested.” “Not interested? In the plant?” he replied, a note of puzzlement in his voice. Ha, trying to play stupid. “In you,” she said icily, placing the plant on the side table in her front hall and putting her hands on her hips. A choking sound came from the depths of his massive chest, which turned into a guffawing laugh. “You thought I was flirting with you?” Dirk howled louder. “I fail to see the humor.” People often accused her of lacking a sense of humor. Not her fault she found their trite attempts at laughter, well, laughable. “Honey,” he said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes with calloused fingers. “I don’t flirt, I take. But don’t worry—I never bother with ice princesses.” “Ice princess!” Marissa practically screeched in outrage. How dare he judge me? “I’ll have you know I can be very passionate with the right man, but you are so very definitely not that type of man.” No, she liked hers well groomed and gentlemanly, not big, burly—and manly, her subconscious taunted her. “Babe, if I decided to seduce you, I guarantee you wouldn’t say no,” he said with smug assurance. Marissa gaped at him, sure she’d misunderstood. But no, looking at his serious face she realized he meant it. And maybe that was the case with most of the floozies he used his wiles on, but not her. Contrary to what her body seemed to think, she wouldn’t fall for a man like him. She laughed in his face. “God, you are so full of yourself. Think you’re God’s gift to women, do you, with your big muscles and rugged face? Well prepare yourself, redneck. I don’t find you attractive at all, and I would most definitely say no.” Too late, Marissa realized she’d in essence thrown down the gauntlet and only had a moment to brace herself before he invaded her personal space. She should have backed up, slapped him, done something; instead, like a deer in headlights, she just gaped at him as he grabbed her with his strong hands and leaned in to kiss her.

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The chance to protest passed as his lips touched hers. Firm lips that slid across hers and caressed with a gentleness she would never have believed him capable of by looks alone. To her shame, she felt an answering warmth in her body to his manly claim, a melting in her loins that had her leaning into his body and responding to his kiss with nibbles of her own. What the hell had come over her? She wanted to pull away, but, enthralled, her lips clung to his. The hands that had so forcefully grabbed her relaxed their grip on her arms and slid down her body to cup her buttocks. What big hands he has. He held her ass in his palms easily and squeezed them. Hot, tingling awareness shot through her and sent moisture to seep from her cleft. She pressed even closer to him, tilted her head back. Her mouth opened wide to allow entrance to his tongue, a slippery caress that made her legs tremble. Beep! Beep! Beep! Alarms were going off in Marissa’s head, confusing her. Shouldn’t it be fireworks? She pulled back, the loss of his warm mouth leaving her lips feeling cool. The strident ringing brought her back to her senses—and dragged shame along with it. She wiped her hand across her mouth to try and erase the taste of his lips. How did that happen? An acrid burning smell tickled her nose, and the strident beeping continued. Her eyes widened in horror. My dinner! “Goddammit! You made me burn my dinner!” Marissa shoved at Dirk, then spun on her heel and dashed off into her kitchen, the glaring sound of her smoke alarm testifying to the blackness of the contents of her frying pan. She dumped the smoking mess in her sink and fumed. Stupid jerk. A beautiful dinner wasted, and it is all his fault. Him and his hot kisses and sexy… Argh! Where did I put that bottle of Fantastic? *****

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Dirk stood bemused in the doorway. Who would have thought he lived next to an ice princess with a volcanic core? Wowee, hot! When she’d just about dared him to kiss her, he’d meant to do so as a lesson, but instead found himself with a raging hard-on and an urge to tumble her on that front stoop. The passion she hid behind that cool, proper façade was a definite surprise. He grinned at the smell of burnt onion. A sign the ice princess had lost control. Oh my God, call the newspapers, the ice princess is human! Brimming with male satisfaction, Dirk had to restrain an urge to thump his chest. He’d quite enjoyed making her lose control, but the one thing that disturbed him was he hadn’t been far behind her. How the hell had that happened? He never lost control with a woman. Ever. Something about her, though, drew him even with her bitchy exterior. If it hadn’t been for the smoke alarm, just how far would things have gone? One thing was certain: the ice princess definitely turned his crank. Not a big deal. After all, it wasn’t like he was in love with her or something. But he definitely wanted another taste—or two. Outwardly she might appear cool and composed, but inside hid a smoldering fire that he itched to coax to life so he could bathe in its flames. He thought about sauntering in and bugging her some more, but fear of a flying frying pan stopped him. Chances were good she’d be flinging it along with her burnt dinner. It would take more than one smoking-hot kiss to melt her. But with time, maybe, just maybe, it could be done. And he knew just the man for the job.

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Chapter Four Marissa stared at the letter on her desk in shock. It had to be a practical joke, but the stark black-and-white block printing glared at her. “I know who you are and what you’ve been doing at night. SLUT. You’ll pay for what you’ve done.” Whoever had written the note seemed to be hinting at her evening career as a dominatrix, but how? Marissa had always been careful, to the point of craziness. The few times she’d advertised, she’d never shown her face, and during her sessions she always wore a mask. All her clients were fully screened to weed out weirdos and whackos. All had as deep a desire for discreetness as she did. So who the hell had found out, and why did they want her to stop? A jealous wife? That seemed the most likely scenario, but which one of her clients had let slip his secret? And did she really care if some Mrs. couldn’t handle it? Marissa couldn’t just stop. Being a single girl had expenses that her salary as a clerk just couldn’t cover on its own. She could afford to lose one of her clients, as replacements were easy to find, but which one? Could the letter be a practical joke? Someone in the office trying to get her to snap and lose her cool? Maybe quit. She had no friends here. She’d never even bothered trying. Tapping her nails distractedly on her desktop, Marissa pondered what to do. The idea of capitulating to a blackmailer, a cowardly one who

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didn’t even dare confront her face to face, stuck a stubborn chord inside of her. Screw them! If they didn’t like her second career, too freaking bad. Her pro Domme work followed the line of the law to the tee. No sex or sexual services were involved, therefore no laws were being broken. And if someone’s wife didn’t like it, too bad. Get a divorce. Swiveling her chair, she fed the letter to the shredder behind her desk, where most of the permit applications she received went, listening with grim satisfaction as the sharp teeth tore the threatening note into little ribbons. Marissa didn’t take orders from anyone. What were they going to do? Scare her. Hurt her. She’d like to see them try. ***** Dirk read a letter of his own at the garage he’d bought—or should he say the bank owned—and cursed. “Stupid, bureaucratic jerks!” He crumpled the missive into a ball and flung it into the corner of his office. Why can’t I ever get a break? “Something wrong, boss?” asked Andy, peeking his tousled head inside the door. “Bloody jerks at the city office refused to give me a permit so I could park overflow vehicles out in the yard. Goddamn pencil pushers in their fucking offices! Bet you none of them has known a real day’s work in their life.” “That sucks, boss,” said Andy, coming in and settling his lanky form onto the chair in front of the desk. “So whatcha gonna do now?” “Try again,” Dirk grumbled. “I know they’ll allow it if I figure out how to fill in the stupid form properly and if I could understand their freaking bylaws. I need to find someone who speaks their mumbo-jumbo language to give me the loophole I need.” “What about a lawyer?” Dirk laughed sarcastically. “Oh yeah, like I’m gonna give those scum suckers who tried to screw me a dime. Not that I have a bloody

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dime to give. I sank everything into getting this place.” Every penny he had plus some loaned from his mom, who still believed in him even after all he’d put her through. “You know whatcha need to do?” said Andy with a devilish grin. “You need to date one of them office clerk gals. Butter her up nice and good and get her to fill it out and push it through.” And that suggestion pretty much summed up Andy—his solution to most of life’s problems involved getting laid. Had a hard day at work—get laid. Have a day off with nothing to do—get laid. Worst part of it all, Andy never had a problem getting laid. But in this case, Andy might be right. Dirk definitely needed help, and who better than someone who worked with those forms and bylaws every day. “You know,” said Dirk pensively, rolling the idea around in his mind. “That’s not a bad idea.” “Right on, boss. I’m sure there’s lots of old broads over there that would totally dig you.” Old? Had Andy implied he could only get old chicks? Just because Dirk had just passed the thirty-mile marker—a few years ago—didn’t make him old. He also always plucked the gray hairs on his chest—which seemed to be multiplying more quickly lately. And he shaved his head daily to hide the gray on top and his receding hairline. Dirk sighed. Getting old sucks. Next thing he knew, he’d need a walker and bifocals. “Maybe I’ll take a walk over to City Hall and see what the pickings look like. And just so you know, older women are much better in bed. Experience, my boy, beats youth any time.” Andy’s eyes lit up. “Really? You know what, I’m gonna test that theory. My landlady’s been hinting at getting a piece of me. Maybe I’ll give her a try.” Dirk just sighed again and shook his head. Oh, to be so young—and horny—again. Dirk left Andy in charge of the transmission repair on the Dodge Caravan in the shop and walked three blocks over to City Hall. He’d changed his grease-stained shirt for a cleaner, black Harley one. His black jeans didn’t have any holes in them—yet—and he’d even popped a mint

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into his mouth. Walking in, he strode over to the front information desk and flashed a smile—a hundred-watt one—at the white-haired old lady sitting behind it. “Can I help you?” she asked, beaming back at him. Piece of cake, Dirk thought. “Yes, I need to talk to someone about a permit. I tried filling the darned thing out, and, well, I think I did something wrong ‘cause it got turned down.” All this he said with an “Aw shucks” face that worked like a charm. “Oh, you poor dear. Those pesky forms can be such a pain.” “So you can help me then?” he said, widening his smile. In the bag. “Me?” The chubby grandma giggled. “Oh no, that would be Marissa’s department. She’s in right now and her schedule is clear. Why don’t I take you in to see her?” Dirk’s smile deflated a little. Shoot, another woman. Hopefully she’s as receptive to my smile as this receptionist is. Dirk followed the portly receptionist down a short hall to a closed door that she knocked on. A brisk, “Come in,” sounded. The friendly-looking grandma poked her head around the door. “Marissa, I’ve got a nice gent here who needs some help with a permit. I told him you were free.” Dirk heard a loud sigh. “Mrs. Fairchild, I’ve told you before to have them make an appointment, and it’s Ms. Masters, not Marissa. This is a place of business, and you need to treat it as such.” “Yes, of course, Ms. Masters. I know you prefer appointments, dear, but he seems like such a nice man. Surely you can spare a moment.” The grandma turned to look at him and made a face, rolling her eyes, which almost made Dirk laugh out loud. A very terse, “Fine,” sounded, and Dirk almost turned around to make an appointment instead. Didn’t sound too promising. Maybe he should try and catch this Marissa broad on a non-PMS day. Too late, the receptionist swung the door wide and nudged him in.

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Dirk took two steps in and stopped. “You!” They sounded like a perfectly rehearsed comedy act. The grandmotherly receptionist fled down the hall, leaving Dirk alone to face Ms. Masters, also known as the ice princess, his bitchy next-door neighbor. “What are you doing here?” She scowled at him, her dark eyes flashing in annoyance. Dirk mentally groaned. Screwed, so screwed. So much for the seduction plan he’d hatched with Andy. Judging by the daggers shooting from her eyes, the ice princess would never help him. “Let me guess, you’re the one in charge of permits?” Dirk held back a frustrated sigh. “I handle all permit applications. Why?” she asked, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips. With nothing to lose, Dirk decided to try and plead his case. “See, I’ve got this garage, right, and it’s starting to get busy, but my current permit only allows for vehicles to be inside the garage overnight. But sometimes I’ve got more cars than spaces. Owners don’t always pick them up the same day. So I filled out one of them permit forms and sent it in asking to be allowed to leave some vehicles to stay in the lot overnight and...” “Got rejected,” Marissa finished with a cool smile. “I remember your application. Should have read the bylaw more carefully and filled out your form right.” “So you understand?” said Dirk with relief. “Can you help me so I can get the permit?” “Sure,” Marissa said getting up and going over to a file cabinet. Dirk’s jaw almost dropped to the floor in astonishment. Wow, I must have packed a powerful kiss last night for her to be so agreeable. He restrained the smug grin that threatened to erupt on his face. Not so old after all! When she bent over to pull open the bottom drawer on the cabinet, Dirk had to shift his hands down over his groin as her skirt pulled tight around her sweet ass, making him tight in another region. How did such a

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skinny woman get such a hot, begging-to-be-grabbed ass? He shifted his eyes quickly as she stood back up with a stack of papers in her hands, which she thumped down loudly on the desk. “Here you go.” Dirk look at the stack of papers blankly. “Here’s what?” “A new copy of the forms you’ll need, plus a copy of all of our bylaws so you can fix up your property correctly for reassessment.” “I thought you were going to help me?” said Dirk stiffly, feeling the creeping presence of his temper. “I am. I’ve given you all the paperwork and research you need to do things right. Come back when it’s done.” She said this with a smirk and her trademark darkly arched brow. Dirk grabbed the hefty pile, the tight rein on his bubbling temper betrayed only by the tic in his cheek. “You know, ice princess, for a second there I thought you were going to come off your lofty pedestal and act like a human being. Guess I was wrong.” “My job isn’t to do your work for you,” she replied, coming around her desk to stand in front of him with arms crossed. “I just approve or reject. If you need help, hire a lawyer.” The lawyer comment, not to mention her cool behavior after last night’s sizzler of a kiss, were what made him snap. Or so he told himself later. Dropping the stack of paper with a loud thump, he crushed her body to his, her arms trapped uselessly against his chest. Then he gave in to temptation. Instant fire lit through his body the moment his lips touched hers. He felt her stiffen against him only to melt a moment later and open her mouth under his coaxing tongue. He slid a hand down her back and grabbed the ass that had tempted him moments before. Squeezing it made her sigh against his mouth, and the ache in his pants grew even more acute. He ground his hips against hers, his arousal painful inside the tight confines of his jeans. To his surprise, her pelvis pushed back against his. He slid his hands down her ass and pulled up her skirt, pushing her back until the back of her legs hit the desk and she sat down on its surface, legs

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spread, his body between them. A noise out in the hall distracted him and brought him back to himself. Shoot, he’d lost control again. But points for him, so had she. Stepping back from Marissa, his cynical side enjoyed the soft, dreamy look on her face that lasted all of two seconds before the bitch came back. Standing up from the desk, she smoothed down her skirt, but not before he’d seen the garters that held up her hose. Naughty underwear for a prim and proper lady. Made him wonder what her panties looked like, or if she wore any at all. He hardened further at the thought “How dare you?” Marissa screeched, her face turning a bright red. “The same way you dare to treat me like dirt, princess. I may not be as educated as you are, but I am a human being and don’t appreciate being treated like the scum on the bottom of your shoe.” Actually, Dirk didn’t know why he kissed her other than because he wanted to. Still wanted to. That and much more. “Why kiss me then, if you dislike me so much?” she asked, rubbing her swollen lips. God, they look so red and plump, I’d love to see them wrapped around my cock. Dirk had to be going insane. Why did he keep having these thoughts about the world’s biggest bitch? “I kissed you because someone’s gotta get you off your high horse. Maybe if you got laid once in a while you wouldn’t be so uptight,” Dirk said in a matter-of-fact voice. The look of astonishment on her face, quickly followed by darkening anger, was Dirk’s cue to leave. Which he did quickly, almost bumping into the friendly receptionist, who held her laughter in behind a hand. Dirk grinned at her and then almost laughed himself at the wink she gave him and the whispered, “You’re a brave man.” Not brave, really. Just horny, apparently, for an ice princess who refused to stay thawed. Of course, his bold action of a moment before probably meant his permit application was screwed for the moment. But, after what he’d gone through with his ex and the time he’d served in prison, he understood

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patience. Besides, Ms. Masters could pretend indifference and outrage all she wanted; her lips and body said quite another thing. ***** Marissa almost chased Dirk down the hall to harangue him, but the peeking faces of her coworkers and the smirk on Mrs. Fairchild’s face stopped her. She’d already made a big enough spectacle of herself. Besides, it didn’t matter: she could tell him what she thought later, because after all, she knew where he lived. The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. Marissa kept touching her lips with her fingertips, still able to feel his lips on hers, and whenever she thought of the way he’d pressed his groin up against her, she shivered as her cleft quivered wetly. First thing, when she got home, she’d take a hot shower and scrub herself clean. Then she’d try some yoga to clear her mind and body of him, since cleaning her already spotless house hadn’t quite worked. She just wished she could figure why she suffered this insane attraction to her next-door redneck. He so wasn’t her type. Not even close. Yet when he kissed her, she lost all reason. Which begged another question. Why does he keep kissing me, and why do I keep allowing it? Twice now she’d let him lay hands on her, and twice she hadn’t done a single thing to stop him or push him away. Am I so starved for sex that my body craves the attention of any man who pays attention to me? No, that couldn’t be it, because no one else had that effect on her. So why him? Maybe I should just do him and get it out of my system. Marissa almost gasped at her own thought, but the idea wouldn’t leave. Instead it grew into a mental video of him taking off his shirt and revealing his wide chest and bulging arms. She saw herself dropping to her knees and tugging down his zipper with her teeth, then... Oh thank God—five o’clock. Marissa lit out of the office, charging down the hall like a bull, ignoring her coworkers, and jumping into her car. Not since her ex-husband had she felt so frazzled. Confused. Sexually frustrated. Subservient.

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She’d confront Dirk once she got home and give him a taste of her sharp tongue. After all, he couldn’t just waltz into her place of work and treat her like some cheap doxy. What if he hadn’t stopped when he had? Would he have swept off her desk and taken here there in full view of the staff walking by? His hard body, pumping her as pencils went flying. Marissa vacillated between arousal and anger. How could she prepare a proper tirade when all her internal rants ended with him throwing her down and having his way with her? She slammed her steering wheel hard with her hands, earning her odd looks from a car passing her. But the brief jolt of pain cleared her mind for a moment, long enough to reach her street before he started creeping into her thoughts again. Pulling into her driveway, she noticed his driveway sat empty. Darn, he’s not home yet. That’s okay, it gives me time to prepare what I’m going to say to make sure he understands the boundaries, like no kissing me in my workplace, or at home or ever. Resolved in mind, even if her body didn’t seem to agree, she got the Windex out and began washing her front windows. I am not waiting for him, they just need good cleaning, she told herself even as she kept surreptitiously looking up the street for his car. When he did finally arrive—silently, the jerk—she sat precariously perched on top of her stepladder, washing the upper reaches. “Nice view,” was all she heard before, startled, she fell off the top of her ladder, right into a strong pair of arms.

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Chapter Five Shocked, Marissa could only gape at Dirk’s amused face as he drawled. “After our showdown at your office today, I must have to admit being surprised that you’d fall in my arms like that.” “Put me down,” she demanded, too flustered to retort, her body tingling at his closeness. He obliged still grinning, setting her down on her feet. His hands lingered a tad too long on her body. She moved a step back and took a deep breath. “While I thank you for catching me and thus saving me from injury, I wouldn’t have been falling in the first place had you not snuck up on me.” “How do you figure I sneaked?” he asked, crossing his thick arms over his chest, still looking at her with a trace of a smile on his lips. “I didn’t hear you?” “Yes, you seemed to be lost in your own little world there. Thinking of me, were you?” he said, a masculine, knowing glint in his eye. One she’d love to wipe off his face. Marissa hated herself for blushing. How did he know I was thinking about that stupid kiss of his again? “Was not,” she replied childishly. “Actually, I am glad I’ve run into you. I wanted to talk to you about what happened today at my office.” “Anytime you want a repeat, just let me know,” he said, inching closer—temptingly closer. Marissa took a step back, ignoring her body screaming, Take me

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now! She’d deal with her body later. First she needed to deliver the speech she’d prepared. “There will be no repeats. I find you repugnant and have no desire to have you lay your hands or any other parts of your body on me.” “Your mouth and body say otherwise,” he said eyeing her lips and making her breath hitch. “I am not attracted to you. I don’t care what you think. And even if I were, which I’m not,” she added quickly, “I am not interested in a physical affair. You are my neighbor and as such, we need to embark upon a courteous, yet distant relationship. That means no more kissing. Actually, I’d prefer not to have to see or talk to you.” “Why—afraid you’ll lose control and ravish me? I’d be more than willing.” Marissa just gaped at him. He really thought highly of himself and his charms. His very masculine charms snugly encased in tight denim. Shaking her head, Marissa took a deep breath, striving for a patience she didn’t feel. “You are being deliberately obtuse. I don’t want you. I don’t want to have sex with you. I’d rather never see you again.” “Well, that might be kind of difficult, seeing as how I still need that permit.” “Fill it out and send it to my office,” she snapped. “Why, so you can just shred it again?” He shook his head. “Not happening, princess. I think I’ll bring it in personally.” He leaned in closer, so that his lips hovered temptingly close to hers. “You know, have a little tête-a-tête with you so you can explain to me exactly what I’m doing wrong.” The thought of his big masculine presence, overwhelming in the close proximity of her office, made her hot and wet with anticipation. Then, she went cold with fear that she might lose control again and let him take liberties. The flying pencil vision came back, and she mentally slapped herself. Get a grip on your hormones. “Tell you what,” she said crossly. “Fill it out and drop it in my mailbox here.” She waved at the white mailbox by her front door. “I’ll

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give it a look over, and if I see anything wrong, I’ll write you a note and drop it back in your box.” That way she’d get him out her hair and avoid being in his disturbing-to-her-libido presence. “That sounds like a plan. Pity, though—I was really looking forward to working closely with you on this.” Dirk grinned at her and tucked his thumbs in the loops of his pants, drawing her attention down. .Marissa blushed and raised her gaze quickly, hoping he hadn’t seen her look. Of course he had, and his mouth stretched even wider, his eyes twinkling with mirth—and if she wasn’t mistaken, a smoldering fire. Marissa shivered, her nipples tightening. If only she could let loose for once. But no, her body’s reaction to him was only a passing fancy. Something she’d take care of in the privacy of her bedroom and send her libido back into it’s cold, hibernating state. It’s what I want—I think. “I’ll get to work on those forms today,” he said, walking away from her with a swagger that drew attention to his muscled ass. “And thanks.” He looked back over his shoulder, his smug smile saying he’d caught her staring. Damn it! ***** Marissa’s arm pumped like a piston. The black riding crop landed with stinging precision on her client’s exposed ass. Seething with anger, she kept replaying the day’s events. Stupid rotten jerk! What is it about him that makes me so damned horny? Marissa didn’t know the answer to that question, and that pissed her off. And she used that anger to give her seven o’clock the beating he craved. Only when her arm finally tired, and his ass resembled a bright red tomato with raised stripes, did she stop. Her client winced when he straightened and then headed for his wallet, pulling out at an extra two hundred dollars.

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“That was marvelous, Mistress,” he lisped, bowing down to the floor and groveling. Marissa said not a word—she didn’t like talking to her subs—she just gave him one hard lash of thanks before she went out the door. Coming out of the tawdry motel, coat tucked tightly around her ensemble—a full-body PVC suit in a bright cherry red, with razor-sharp stilettos—she threw her hockey bag in the trunk, then came around to get into the driver’s side. About to start the engine, she noticed a scrap of paper tucked under her windshield wiper. Stupid flyers! Probably some “Jesus will save you” crap. Where was Jesus six years ago when her world fell apart? Clambering out, she ripped the piece of paper off the windshield, then stopped, frozen, unable to crumple the missive when she noticed the writing. A writing she’d seen previously on that menacing note she’d received. Bitch. How many lives do you intend to ruin with your perverse antics? I warned you to stop. You did not heed me. Now you will pay the price. Again, no signature. And unlike the first note, this time Marissa felt a frisson of fear. Someone had followed her. Had to be. Her client this evening had no wife or dependents. No one to care if he liked to be walked like a dog, then flogged for being bad. This new threat made the warning bells go off in her head. Obviously someone delusional had chosen to stalk her. She briefly thought about taking the threat to the authorities—after all, her pro Domming activities were legal—but the humiliation they were sure to put her through made her balk. Perhaps she should stop for a while, much as it galled her to give in to this blackmailing. But a little break would be nice. She’d noticed herself losing her vicious edge in the last couple of weeks. Her always present anger finally seemed to have settled down. And instead of a thrill when she made these men submit, she now felt a sense of shame and even a touch of disgust. Perhaps she needed a break. A vacation from it all that would allow her to reevaluate if she wanted to continue, or perhaps pursue a more intimate relationship with a submissive, one to feed her

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dominant side and her need for pleasure. She had enough money socked away now for a rainy day; she could afford to lose her second occupation. And hopefully lose her stalker. Marissa jumped into her car, locking the doors, shaken to the core. She eyed the shadows in the dimly lit parking lot of the motel suspiciously. Did her stalker watch her still? Crouched in wait, waiting for an opportune moment to pounce. Her fear pissed her off. With a squeal of tires, Marissa whipped out of the lot and drove home. She squashed her trepidation down with thoughts on what she’d do to the little bastard stalking her once she got her hands on him. She was enjoying a particularly cruel fantasy where she strung him upside down, then whipped him with her cat o’nine, when she got to her house and had to slam on her brakes at the edge of her driveway. The reason? A kid’s bicycle, sprawled on the ground in the middle of her driveway and of course, not a kid in sight to move it. Grumbling under her breath about lazy, irresponsible kids who couldn’t take care of their belongings, she got out and righted the bike. It didn’t have a name tag, but Marissa could guess whom it belonged to—her redneck neighbor’s kid. A redneck she hadn’t stopped thinking about since their last altercation. And speaking of the devil. “Oh hey, princess, that’s Avery’s bike. I guess he forgot to put it away,” said a now familiar voice. He strode over to take the bike from her, and Marissa saw red. “Can’t you even get your goddamn kids to clean up after themselves?” she screeched, giving in to her anger and ridding herself of the last lingering traces of her fear. “Bad enough your kids are disturbing my once peaceful yard, but now I’ve got to move junk when I get home so I can park!” Dirk’s face turned hard, his dark brows beetling together as he snarled back. “What’s got your panties in a twist, princess? Feeling a little frustrated, are we? I’ve got something that’ll fix that,” he said with a leer as he grabbed his crotch.

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Marissa’s jaw dropped. He hadn’t just done that. How—how crude. And sexual frustration had nothing to do with it. She just wanted to be respected—property and body. Of course he’d think this was all about him. Pig! “If I were sexually frustrated, you’d be the last person I’d turn to. I’ve got a battery-operated toy that does the job as good as a man—better, actually. This has nothing to do with my sex life, but everything to do with the fact that your brats keep terrorizing my space. Maybe you should send them back to their mother, since you don’t seem to be doing such a good job of parenting.” Her barb hit home, and she took a step back at the thunderous look that came over him and turned his eyes into glacial chips. “What would you know of parenting?” he said, taking a menacing step toward her. Six foot something of bristling anger and muscle that to her disgust made her tummy turn over. “Thank God you never became a parent. I bet sperm heads the other way when it sees your shriveled-up bitchy excuse of an egg. Any man would be nuts to want to have children with you.” Tears pricked her eyes. He’d come so close to the truth. “Well, you don’t have to worry,” she said, somehow managing to control the choking feeling in her throat as she held the tears back. “God’s made sure I’ll never become a mother. I’ll leave that particular endeavor to lack-wit rednecks like yourself.” With that parting shot, she turned on her heel and strode blindly into her house. The tears in her eyes clouded her vision, but thankfully didn’t fall until she’d shut the door and leaned on it. She sank to the floor with shaking shoulders. He’s right. I’d be a horrible mom. It’s probably why God punished me. ***** Dirk stared at Marissa’s stiff shoulders as she marched into her house, utterly disgusted with himself. He’d acted awfully nasty, yet a part of him wanted to march over to Marissa’s house and give her hell again. How dare she attack his boys and him as a parent? I’m doing the best I can,

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dammit. And I’ve got good boys. Considering what they’ve gone through, hell, they are awesome. Bitch! But the pain he’d seen in her eyes when he’d blasted her and told her she should never be a mother. Talk about a low blow. He’d even seen a glimmer of tears. Tears from the ice princess? That glimpse of the real woman beneath the icy facade made a part of him want to wrap arms around her and say how sorry he was. What had she said? God’s made sure I’ll never become a mother. It had never even occurred to him that perhaps there was a reason for her behavior. Did she have a medical condition that made her unable to have children? Perhaps she had suffered through some tragedy that made her retreat behind the icy barricade she’d created for herself. Could her irrational hatred of children stem from something other than a bad attitude? Still, whatever her reasons, that didn’t give her an excuse to behave like she did. He only thanked the fact his boys hadn’t seen him and Marissa going at it on the front lawn like two bloodthirsty pugilists, fighting with words instead of fists. It hadn’t helped that he’d still been pissed over her treatment of him over that stupid permit. Would it have been so hard for her to tell him what he needed to do? Sure, she’d agreed to look over the paperwork once he filled it out, something he’d started on and quickly gotten frustrated with. Bloody bureaucrats just couldn’t put the blasted things in plain English. Back to square one where the garage was concerned for the moment. He now wished he’d kept the sheaf of papers she’d given him so he could try and muddle through to find the answers. He refused to go back and ask for the paperwork he’d thrown down before he’d kissed her. A man did have his pride, after all. Maybe he should have given in to temptation and thrown her on her desk and raised that skirt up for a good plowing. Could have worked. The situation definitely couldn’t be any worse than where he found himself now. Actually, even without the help for the permit, he’d have been

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better off. Blue balls were a painful condition, and he’d been suffering them since that first kiss. His one-handed friend in the shower just wasn’t a replacement for the real thing. And she said a toy would do a better job. That sounded like another challenge he’d have to take her up on.

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Chapter Six Marissa huddled in a ball on her bed, arms wrapped around her legs, face buried in her knees. Dirk’s words, like an arrow fired by an archer, had hit their target, making her bleed emotionally. And oh how she hurt. His accusations were painful barbs, even if he told the truth. Fact was, she did hate children and had no intention of becoming a mother, but not for the reasons he thought. Hard to have children when you’re only half a woman. Less than half considering her lack of a womb. Almost seven years ago, while still in her twenties, she’d gone for her yearly exam that of course included the uncomfortable pap. Little did she know that her embarrassing exam with her legs in stirrups would have such devastating consequences. To her shock, about three weeks later, she’d been called into her doctor’s office. “Marissa, your pap came back abnormal. I’m going to send you over to a gynecologist to have him look you over. It’s probably nothing, but better safe than sorry.” That “probably nothing” had been a whole start of something. An aggressive form of cervical cancer that, six months and one full hysterectomy later, left her incapable of being a mother. They couldn’t even save any of her eggs. In one fell swoop, all the dreams she’d had of being a mother were dashed to pieces. Devastating couldn’t even begin to explain the torn hole in her

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psyche that matched the one where her womb used to be. Her husband Tom—now her ex-husband—had been supportive at the time. “It’s no big deal, Mari, so we’ll adopt.” But Marissa, despite his words, fell into a funk. Adoption just wouldn’t be the same. She didn’t want someone else’s child, she wanted her own. But she couldn’t. She’d failed as a woman. A stupid nurse had tried to put a bright spin on it, saying at least now she no longer had to suffer through nasty periods and she’d save money on tampons and pads. Marissa should have slapped her. Instead she’d given in to weakness and cried instead. Cried over the fact she’d never feel her stomach swell as it expanded to accommodate new life. A gaping, dark emptiness lay inside her—not only had she been rendered physically empty, she’d been made emotionally empty too. And nothing could fill that hole up. To make matters worse, it seemed everywhere she looked there were children—happy families picnicking and walking, billboards of smiling children in trendy clothes, parks with slides and running toddlers. It seemed like the whole world was screaming at her, “Look at what you’ve lost!” Something that she’d never really thought of had been taken away from her, and now that it was gone, she mourned it like the death of someone close. Tom’s support didn’t last in the face of her despondence. He began working later, coming home sometimes after she’d already gone to bed. On weekends, he went out: fishing, golfing, hockey games, or so he said. Anything to get out of the house and away from her. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but she’d been hurt nevertheless, when he announced he’d found someone else. “Mari, Chrissy and I have so much in common. She’s a wonderful girl. I love her and want to be with her.” “But we’re married.” Marissa had announced that fact as if that made a difference; for her, it always had. “Yes, well, we both know that hasn’t been working out so well. I

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mean come on, Mari, it’s been a year since we’ve been together.” Marissa had just looked at him, rendered speechless for a moment. “But you told me to take all the time I needed. That sex could wait until I got better.” “Well, come on, Mari,” he’d said with a tone that implied she was being stupid. “It’s been a year. A man’s got needs, and since your operation you haven’t even bothered to try. Even now I bet the thought of sex disgusts you.” He was right. It did. “But—” He’d just barreled on. “Let me know when you find a lawyer, and I’ll have mine discuss the terms of the divorce with him.” Lawyers ? Divorce? Wait, don’t I even get a second chance? “Tom,” she’d begged, “we can go to a counselor. We can make this work. I know we can.” It made her cringe to think of the old Marissa, the weak one with her stupid, pointless pleading replete with ugly tears running down her cheeks. What a pathetic fool I used to be. Tom had shifted uncomfortably and even blushed before stammering out the death toll to her heart and feelings. The nail in the coffin that buried her emotions for good. “Well you see, Mari, that’s not going to work. Chrissy’s pregnant. I’m going to be a father.” Marissa had completely lost it then. “Get out! Get out! You fucking bastard!” Marissa had screamed and screamed until he finally took the hint and left. In a fury Marissa had rampaged through their home, smashing things and throwing anything that reminded her of Tom out onto the front lawn. How could he have betrayed me like this? I thought he loved me? How could he hurt me like this? It’s not my fault I’m half a woman. Why did he have to taunt me with the fact that he can have children and I can’t? Why? she’d cried. And cried some more. Once she’d calmed down—or least stopped destroying things—she got angry. Very, very angry, and she made plans. Her rage at his betrayal, barely under control, simmered under the surface, and she focused that anger into taking him to the cleaners, coming out of the divorce with a

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hefty chunk of cash that she used to put as a down payment on her current home. But even once she’d emerged victorious from that battle, the rage bubbled inside of her—a molten force that threatened to erupt. So Marissa went to see a shrink, who of course tried to tell her that all her problems issued from her childhood. Fucking idiot. After a dozen or so useless sessions, she’d finally snapped and jumped up, towering over the little spectacled man behind the large desk. “You are the lowest form of scum I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet. I should take your fucking head and smash it off this desk for the time you’ve wasted in my life spouting your stupid drivel. What a pathetic loser you are!” she’d shouted. And to her shock, he’d replied, “Yes, Mistress,” with a look of utter adoration. Turned out her shrink was a closet masochist who got off on being humiliated. Marissa’s untutored outburst had stoked him just the right way, and to be honest Marissa had enjoyed her explosive rant too. Her shrink agreed therapy didn’t seem to be working, so he turned around and introduced her to his current Mistress, who, after hearing Marissa’s tale, had a better form of therapy. Domination. At first, Marissa had been too embarrassed. Didn’t only freaks get into that type of activity? But the first time she held a whip in her hand, the bare ass of her former shrink offered up to her, she’d felt in charge again for the first time since her hysterectomy. And she finally had an outlet for her anger. Not to mention a new source of income once she completed her training. Turned out her well of anger had a use—whipping, spanking, beating up men. But not just any men. Men who, in the world outside the temporary dungeon she created, wielded power. There was something gratifying about seeing these pricks who thought they were so important on their hands and knees. Submissive to her. Finally, she held the power. Finally, she caused the pain. Finally, she felt the anger subside, not completely, but enough for her to start enjoying life again. She achieved a balance, where finally she felt peace.

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Then Dirk came along with his two boys—cute boys she’d caught a glimpse of from her second-story window—and suddenly all these feelings she’d thought were buried forever erupted and threatened to overwhelm her. And it makes me so mad! Yes, I hate children. I hate I can never have one of my own. Never to hold, never to nurse a baby born of my body. Never to kiss a boo-boo, never to tuck into bed. So many nevers. Yes, it is easier to hate all children; it helps banish my own longing. Even better, it had been working for her. When she saw a newborn in the arms of its mother, she felt nothing now—most of the time. She’d found a stable middle ground in her emotionally sterile world. But now? The boys next door were easy to ignore; their father, though, not so much. For the first time since her disastrous marriage to Tom, she felt desire. Ever since that kiss, she couldn’t get his face, body, the feel of his lips out of her mind. Even now, in the depths of her misery, she felt a tingling warmth at the thought of his powerful body and lips against her own. Like that will ever happen again. He hates me, and I don’t blame him. I’ve been a right bitch. She’d pushed him away with her icy demeanor and cruel words. She had to in order to protect herself. No more pain for her. She’d made a vow. But if I did the right thing, why does it hurt so much? Why isn’t the tower I built around my emotions working? Why the tears? And most of all, why do I suddenly not want to be alone?

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Chapter Seven Saturday dawned golden and glorious. Marissa, dressed in her gardening clothes—neatly pressed, of course—prepared for a day of digging happily in the dirt. She’d barely begun weeding when a “Hello” from the side of her house shattered her peaceful serenity. Now what? Marissa frowned and stood up, pulling off her gardening gloves, watching warily the approaching older woman with Dirk’s two children in tow. “Can I help you?” Marissa asked, wondering just what toy the two little rascals had tossed into her yard this time. “Sorry to bother you, dear. I can see you’re busy gardening, and a beautiful garden it is. But my daughter’s just been rushed to the hospital, and I need to go be with her.” “And?” Marissa prompted her. Come on, get to the point, she thought, a feeling of dread uncoiling in her stomach. What did this woman’s daughter have to do with her? “Well, I’m supposed to be watching the boys until quarter after three for Dirk, but I can’t stay. I called the garage, but Dirk is out on some sort of part pickup and won’t be back for a while. I need someone to take over for me so I can leave.” “You want me to baby sit?” asked Marissa, stunned. Hello, is this lady out of her mind? I don’t baby sit, and even if I did, I think I’d be last on Dirk’s list.

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“Well, I’ve seen you around and you seem like a decent sort. And you’re right next door. I’m sure Dirk won’t be too long. Please, I really need to be with my daughter,” said the woman, her eyes filling with tears. Oh crap, how do I turn this woman down without looking like a heartless bitch? Who cares—I am a heartless bitch. Marissa opened her mouth to speak, and words she’d never dreamed of flowed out. “Sure. No problem. I’m sure the boys and I will be fine. Go be with your daughter.” Help! I’ve been possessed. No way would I have said that. “Oh thank you, thank you,” gushed the woman. “The boys will be very good, won’t you, boys?” she said giving them a stern, yet smiling look. “They’ll need lunch around noon if Dirk’s not back. Thank you again. Be good, boys, I’ll see you on Monday.” With a wave, the woman took off, leaving a befuddled Marissa staring down at two tousled heads. What does one do with children? Marissa certainly had no clue, and she felt tongue tied faced with two bright sets of inquisitive eyes watching her. “Hi,” she said lamely. The taller one responded to that. “Hi.” Great, my turn again. “My name’s Ms. Masters, and you are?” There, that wasn’t so hard, she thought. “I’m Avery and this is Mason,” said the tall one, speaking for them both again. Marissa found herself approving of the names. Strong, yet not overbearing names for a boy. None of that silly made-up nonsense a lot of people seemed to name their children nowadays. But with introductions out of the way, Marissa had run out of things to say. The little one sidled behind his brother and stuck a thumb in his mouth as he eyed her warily. The older one just looked her with his head cocked to one side, making her nervous. “Are you a witch?” Avery blurted out finally. “What?” asked Marissa, taken aback when he finally spoke. “I heard my dad saying our neighbor is a witch.” Marissa’s lips twitched. Witch or bitch? More likely the latter,

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considering their clashes. “He did, did he? Well, I can sometimes be witchy, but only with bad children. You won’t be bad, will you?” Both children nodded their heads vigorously. Nice job, Marissa thought, scare the poor things. She really didn’t have any maternal instincts. “We’ll be good,” said Avery. “I don’t wanna turn into a frog. I seen a movie once where a prince, he was bad, and dis witch, she didn’t like it and she turned him into a frog.” “Really?” she said with feigned interest. “That sounds like an interesting movie. How about this: you promise to be good, and I’ll only turn bad guys into frogs.” Big grins greeted her announcement. “Or we could turn the bad guys into spiders and squish them!” Mason laughed at his brother’s suggestion and stomped his little sneakered foot on the ground. Squish them indeed. Marissa liked the way these boys thought. Like an oiled pig, her usual attempt to hate children slipped away from her. Hard to be pissed off when faced with such cuteness. Marissa held out her hand, holding back a wince at the sticky fingers that grasped hers. “I hungi,” said Mason, rubbing his tummy. “Me too,” announced Avery, looking at Marissa expectantly. Not afraid to speak their minds, are they? “How about we go inside and make ourselves some lunch?” “Gonna haff hot dogs?” asked the little one, pulling his thumb out of his mouth only long enough to ask the question before popping it back in. Ewww, shuddered Marissa. Didn’t these children know what kind of refuse those weiners were made with? Hot dogs headed the top of a long list of things that were not allowed to pass her threshold or her lips. However, while she enjoyed a healthy balanced diet, she somehow doubted that her fat-free-food stocked fridge would appeal to these guys. “I think I can do better than hot dogs. How about some ham and cheese grilled sandwiches?” “Grilled cheese don’t have ham,” stated Avery with authority. “They’re special grilled cheese.”

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“Wike ham,” said Mason. “Are you gonna use orange cheese or white?” asked Avery, the boy of a thousand questions. Orange or white? Marissa blanked out for a second. What did he mean? Then she clued in. “Cheddar, umm, the orange kind.” “That’s good. I only like white cheese on my pizza.” “Pizza nummy!” said Mason, getting more talkative by the moment. “What about ketchup?” asked Avery. “I like to dip my grill cheese in ketchup.” Gross! Item number six on her no-no list. “How about I make you a special dip for it?” “What kind of dip?” asked Avery suspiciously. “A yummy one,” Marissa said, hoping she had something in her fridge that would pass for dipping while still tasting good. The children followed her into her pristine kitchen where she slipped off her shoes, only to see the boys not following suit. “Shoes,” she said, pointing at their feet. “What about my shoes?” asked Avery, puzzled. “You need to take them off.” “Why?” asked little Mason. Marissa felt like saying because I said so, but refrained. Obviously, living with a man, they hadn’t learned some of society’s niceties. No problem—she could teach them. “When one enters someone’s home, even your own, it is considered good manners to remove one’s shoes.” “Why?” asked a double echo. “So you won’t track dirt all over the house.” “Oh, okay,” said Avery, slipping off his shoes, aped by his brother. Marissa waited for another question. When none was forthcoming, she washed her sticky hands, then walked over to the fridge and pulled out the fixings for some fancy grilled cheese. The boys seated themselves on barstools at the breakfast counter and watched her. Marissa set the pan on the stove to heat, then started buttering the

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bread and slicing the cheese. “Do you have any kids?” Startled, Marissa almost took off the end of her finger with the knife. “Uh no, no kids,” she replied. “Are you married?” “No, not married either.” What is this, an interview? “My dad was kinda married to my mom. I remember her a little, Mason doesn’t. She left when he was a baby.” Marissa paused, uncertain of what to say to that statement, so calmly made. She definitely could not ask what came to the tip of her tongue. How could anyone leave their child? “At least you have your dad. I know he loves you very much.” Or at least she assumed so from what she’d seen of him. “Yeah, I’m glad we’ve got Dad now. When we lived with Grandma, we used to visit him when he was in prison. But that place was scary, and Daddy was so sad there.” “Prison?” Marissa couldn’t help but to exclaim at those words. “Yeah, Grandma says Daddy did some bad things, and that’s why he had to go to jail. But he learned his lesson and he’s not going to be bad no more. He promised us.” Marissa was finding this conversation very interesting, so interesting she almost forgot about the sandwiches on the stove. Saving them from burning, she itched to ask Avery more about his dad. But how to do so without looking like she was fishing for information? “So you lived with your grandma a while. Did you like that?” “Grandma’s nice, but her house is like a million years old, and she didn’t even have video games.” “That’s too bad,” replied Marissa, who’d never played a video game in her life. Hell, she didn’t even know how to use an mp3 player. “Dad says if we’re good that Santa might bring us an Xbox for Christmas.” “I wanna Wii,” said Mason stubbornly. “Wii is for babies,” Avery scoffed. “Xbox has all the cool fighting games.”

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“Not a baby,” said Mason, his lower lip trembling. Marissa felt a moment’s panic—oh no, don’t cry! “Maybe Santa will get you one of each,” she said, trying to save the situation. Mason’s face brightened. “I wike Mario. And Wuigi.” Marissa had no idea what he was talking about but nodded her head and smiled anyway. Sandwiches almost ready, she pointed to the sink. “Time to wash up for your lunch.” “Why?” came Avery’s predictable question. “Because one should always wash one’s hands before cooking, eating or after going to the bathroom.” Avery gaped at her. “Really?” “Really,” she said firmly. Scooping up short Mason under the armpits—a non-sticky area—she held him up to the sink so he could wash his hands with his brother, who barely reached on his tippy toes. Their sandwiches ready, she cut them into triangles and then pulled out a bottle of ranch dressing, which should be on her no-no list, but it tasted so good. The boys eyed the white dipping sauce dubiously, but after cautiously trying it, they wolfed down their sandwiches, and Avery asked for seconds. Once they were done eating, though, she eyed the boys nervously. Now what? “Ms. Master,” said Avery politely. The boy caught on quick. “May we go look at your garden again? It’s got a lot of plants. My grandma has plants but hers are all vegetables. Yuck!” “Pwease, Ms. Massy,” begged Mason. “Tell you what, why don’t you boys call me Mari. It’s a little easier than Ms. Masters.” Marissa couldn’t believe the words that again came out of her mouth. I’m actually being nice. Must be a fool moon tonight. Or maybe, said her sly mind, you’re remembering who you used to be. You used to be nice, once upon a time. And you used to love children. Marissa ignored the voice in her head and led the children outside, their excited chatter melting a spot inside of her that she’d thought frozen forever.

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Tugging her by the hand, they pulled her from plant to plant, exclaiming over each one. Avery asked a million questions and listened attentively as she replied. When the tour finished, Avery looked at her garden wistfully. “I wish we had a garden, but Daddy says it’s a waste of space and money.” Marissa suddenly remembered the plant Dirk had given her a few nights ago, now sitting by the side of the house, awaiting disposal. She suddenly had a better idea for it. “Come with me,” she said. “I’ve actually got a plant that needs planting. How about you boys do it for me?” The exuberant “Yeses!” answered that question, and with a smile and a warmth she hadn’t felt in years, she prepared to teach them how to be gardeners. ***** When Andy gave Dirk the message that Clara had to leave the boys with a neighbor due to a family emergency, Dirk panicked. Which neighbor? The only one he’d really met was Marissa, and he highly doubted she’d taken them in. And to be honest, she is the last person I’d leave my kids with. Andy’s lack of secretarial skills made Dirk wish he’d taken care of the battery problem in his cell phone earlier. Of course the one day I have to do a parts run, I’m not there to answer the phone. Jumping into his Monte Carlo—lovingly restored, of course—he sped back to the house, watching his speedometer to make sure he didn’t exceed the speed limit by more than five clicks or so. Wouldn’t do to be pulled over now, with his probation so close to done. He screeched into his driveway and ran into the house. “Boys!” he shouted. No answer. He looked around the house, upstairs too, just to make sure and peeked out into the yard from one of the second-floor windows. He’d turned around halfway when he thought he saw movement. He rotated back to the window and looked out. Nothing in his yard—but

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wait. A flash of color from next door drew his eyes, and he gaped in astonishment. Sitting on either side of Marissa were his boys. “I’ll be damned,” he said, bending until his face touched the glass, eyes open wide in wonderment as he watched the ice princess guide Avery’s hands, which were holding a plant, into a hole in the ground. Then she helped Mason fill the dirt back around it and pat it down. Hearing laughter, both children’s and a woman’s laughter, Dirk peered up at the sky. No flying pigs, but not being able to see if Hell had frozen over, he decided he should probably hightail it over before the wicked, sexy witch next door reverted back to her evil ways. He flew down the stairs and out the door. He quickly made his way up the side of the houses and unlatched her side gate. He strode toward the yard, slowing his pace as he neared and heard the murmur of voices. “Mari, can I hold the can?” “Sure Avery, here you go,” said a calm womanly voice that Dirk had a hard time equating with his usual ranting ice princess. “Wanna turn,” piped in Mason. “Well, isn’t it a good thing I’ve got two watering cans,” said that kind, alien voice. Dirk stopped at the edge of the yard and peered in, morbidly curious about this unknown side to his ice princess. He felt nervous watching—kind of like watching a ferocious tiger cuddling its prey. Marissa, with a serenity Dirk had never imagined, chatted with the boys, showing and telling them about the plants in her garden. Dirk, loathe to interrupt this sign of Hell freezing over, watched, a sudden yearning inside of him surprising him. Would this be what having a mother in their life would be like? Someone to teach them the things I don’t know? If only Clara had been a different type of woman. The boys need a mother so much. Maybe it’s time I started dating again. But will I be able to find someone who will be able to not only overlook my past, but love my boys like they deserve to be loved? And me, will she love me? Appalled at his momentary lapse into pansy-ness, he grunted out

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loud to reaffirm his maleness. The sound was loud enough to draw the attention of the trio in the yard. Mason came flying across the yard, screeching. “Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! Mari letted me plant da flower. And she made me ‘n’ Avy grills with ham. Come see, Daddy!” Grubby little fingers wrapped around his and tugged him over to Avery and Marissa, who sat with identical expressions of forbearance as they watched and listened to little Mason babble, his usually quiet little guy. “Hello, Ms. Masters. Thank you for your kindness today in watching my boys.” Marissa stood and peeled off her gardening gloves. “You are welcome. You have fine sons there.” Avery wrinkled his face at them both. “Why you calling Mari Ms. Masters, Saddy?” “I--uh,” as usual Avery and his questions stumped him. “It is a sign of politeness when one is not well acquainted to address a lady by use of her last name, Avery.” “But you know Daddy, so he should call you Mari too.” Marissa looked a little flustered, but recovered quickly. “Yes, Avery, you are correct, your father and I are acquainted. As such, I suppose it is okay if he calls me by my first name.” “And you can call me Dirk anytime, princess,” Dirk said, grinning at the annoyed look on her face. “My name is Marissa, not princess.” “Why did Daddy call you princess?” asked Avery with a scrunched-up face. That flummoxed them both, so Dirk changed the subject. “Boys, say thank you to Marissa. We’ll let her get back to her gardening.” “Oh.” Her face looked a little downcast, but she covered it quickly with her usual mask of indifference. “It was a pleasure to meet you Avery and Mason.” “Bye, Mari,” said Avery. Mason popped out his thumb to say, “Can I come see ya garden ‘gin?”

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Marissa’s face melted for a moment when she knelt to reply. “Of course you may, Mason. You too, Avery. ‘Bye, boys.” With waves and good-byes, Dirk led his boys down the side of the house, looking back once, to see Marissa looking at them wistfully. Nah, not the ice princess. I must be mistaken.

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Chapter Eight The whip landed floppily on her submissive’s white ass. It was the third such pathetic lash, and even though it went against the rules, her slave turned his head to look at her in reproach. “Face forward,” Marissa barked. She brought her arm back and let the lash fly. With a resounding smack, she went back to beating her once-a-month Saturday nighter. But her anger just wasn’t there this evening. Her well of rage for once lay dormant. After a few more minutes of flogging his flesh, she called the session short. “I’m very displeased with you,” she announced, when in truth her mood had nothing to do with her slave. She just kept being distracted by thoughts of the boys she’d spent time with and their handsome father. Cute and cuddly feelings did not go hand in hand with domination. With vague instructions to behave better next time, she left her groveling minion on his hands and knees and strode out into the night. Why can’t I get them out of my head? I don’t want to care for these people. Why can’t they just go away and leave me alone? Spending time with the boys had brought back the longing to have a child of her own, but for the first time since her operation it didn’t come with the sharp, emotional pain. I always thought I needed to have a child of my body to be content, yet, Dirk’s boys aren’t related to me, and being with them today still made me happy. Have I finally healed? Was I too hasty in dismissing

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adoption? Not that I want kids—yet. But maybe, I don’t have to shun them anymore. Beside, who needs to adopt, said her insidious mind, when you’ve got a readymade family right next door waiting for a mom? Marissa gasped at the nerve of her own thoughts. Her and the redneck, together. Sure he had cute kids, but still, she’d always aspired to something a little more white collar. Sure, look where white collar got you last time, dumped and alone. Snob. What happened to judging a person on merit? Hmm, let me see, an ex-con who likes to make crude remarks and maul me. No, I’m not being snobby. In this case I’m being smart. Says the closet dominatrix, taunted her mind before shutting up. Stupid subconscious. Arriving home, but too restless to sleep, she dressed in a sleeveless nighty, with a silk robe over top—both white, of course. Then she padded into the kitchen to make herself a drink. A dry martini with three olives. Yum. Sinful, but something she indulged in every so often to take the edge off. And she definitely found herself on edge lately. The night’s failed session and her inability to do her job still bothered her. Is it time to call it quits? A light tapping at her front door made her jump, and she spilled a little of her drink down the front of her silk gown. Who the hell is knocking at my door this time of night? I’ll ignore it. But the persistent light tapper wouldn’t leave. Sidling up to the front door, trying to stay out of the line of sight of the door’s side windows, she peered through her wispy curtains to see a bulky figure on her front stoop. Oh my God, is it my stalker? The figure turned slightly, and she saw his face. Nope, not a stalker, worse. Her next-door nemesis and starring actor in her newly awakened libido’s fantasies. Here at her door, as if her thoughts had called him. Maybe I have psychic sexual powers and my body has been sending out messages saying I want you. Marissa almost giggled. She always got silly when she drank martinis. Forgetting her state of deshabille, she flung open the door to

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confront him. “What do you want now?” “I was coming over to thank you again for watching my boys today. They really liked you.” “Yes, they’re not as bad as I expected,” Marissa lied. Truth was his boys were absolutely adorable, and she’d loved the time she spent with them. “I also wanted to apologize for what I said to you the other day.” “Apology accepted.” Marissa went to close the door, but a big black boot inserted itself and prevented it from shutting. Dirk pushed the door open, forcing Marissa to back up as he came into her house. His big body presented a looming presence that, even with her height, made her feel small—and ignited a fire in her nerve endings. He shut the door behind him, making the small space of her entrance seem even more confined—intimate. She took a step back and hit the wall, the martini glass she held high in her hand splashing again onto the fabric of her thin gown, making the thin fabric stick to the curve of her breast. His gaze followed the spill, and she could have sworn his eyes smoldered. She felt her breath hitch and her nipples pucker, something he could clearly see through the thin fabric of her gown. His lips turned up in a half smile. Marissa used her free hand to pull her robe tight around her, trying to hide the effect he had on her body. An effect she just couldn’t control. “What do you want? Shouldn’t you be at home with your boys?” she asked, her voice coming out reedier than she would have liked. “The boys are in bed, and I’ve got the monitor turned on,” he said, pointing to a mini gadget clipped to his belt. “I want to talk to you. I said some pretty nasty stuff yesterday, and I feel real bad about it.” He looked down at his booted feet. “I had no right to say the things I did. You have a right to your privacy and beliefs. I can’t say as I understand some of them, but I should at least be man enough to respect them.” “Oh,” she replied. Her usual icy disdain seemed to have fled her, leaving her speechless in the face of this most surprising apology. Feeling bolstered even if by alcohol, she said in a rush, “I’m sorry too. I’ve had a rough week, and I’m afraid I lost my temper and said things too that I

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shouldn’t have.” The apologetic words felt stiff and strange even as they passed her lips, but were so worth the widening smile he gave her that made her tummy do a somersault. His eyes bored into hers. They burned with a smoky intensity that had her almost trembling like an untried schoolgirl. Her hands, shaky and slightly damp with perspiration, made her grip on her glass slippery. She put the drink down on the side table, looking at the floating olive, giving herself a moment to regain her composure. When she looked up, though, he still eyed her with that intense gaze. She felt a longing to throw herself at him. To kiss his sensual lips. To feel his big body against hers. To throw caution to the wind and take what he offered. Insanity. She needed to get him out of here. “Friends?” he said, holding out a hand. A big hand that would feel so good against her skin. Marissa shook her head as if waking from a dream. What is wrong with me? Since when do I accept apologies and tender them? I’m a bitch. One with no feelings anymore, because caring for people hurts, and I’m tired of suffering. “I think you should leave,” she said, trying to speak with her usual icy tone. A tone that threatened to break at the kindness he offered, that she had to reject. “What?” Big hands grabbed her by the arms and brought her close. Close enough she could feel the heat of his body and smell the spiciness of his aftershave. She trembled, aroused and wanting to get closer even as she knew she shouldn’t. “Why do you push everyone away? I’m trying to be your friend, goddammit! I know you have feelings. I’ve seen them no matter how hard you try to hide them. Why must you push everyone away?” “It’s easier to push them away than to watch them leave,” Marissa said in a choked whisper, hating the wetness pooling in her eyes. Dirk shook her lightly. “Dammit, princess. What am I going to do with you?” *****

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The tears in her eyes, the pain that his ice princess hid from, proved to be his undoing. What started out as him coming over to give an apology ended up as a kiss. He couldn’t stop himself. The pull he felt toward her was stronger than that of any magnet. No matter how wrong getting involved with her might be, he had to taste her again. Show her that caring could feel good. Her hands pushed at his shoulders. He released her lips but kept his arms around her, hugging her close. “What are you doing?” she whispered, confusion clouding her eyes, her tone soft and almost lost. “Kissing you,” he said, his lips tingling, yearning to return to hers. “Why?” “Because I want to,” he answered before dipping his head to claim her lips again. She held herself stiffly in his arms, but her lips were pliant under his. As he coaxed them with his own, teasing her bottom lips between his, she grew soft in his embrace. He gave a grunt of satisfaction when her arms came around him, clasping him tighter than a python and pressing her body firmly up against his. His lips pressed hard against hers, forceful branding that he couldn’t help. Her mouth pressed back just as firmly, her passion finally unleashed. Fire consumed them both, and when her mouth opened first to slip a wet tongue into his own, he crushed her even closer to him, cursing the layers of clothing that prevented them from being flesh to flesh. Feeling her crane to kiss him, he lifted her off the floor, pushing her back up against the wall. This brought her to just the right height for him to grind his pelvis against hers. She moaned and arched into him, setting his blood boiling. Dirk sensed himself losing control, overwhelmed at the passion his ice princess hid beneath her cool exterior. A passion he needed more of. Her long, limber legs wrapped around his waist, making her nightgown ride up on her thighs, and he could feel her molten core pressing up against his rigid cock. She felt so fucking good. So hot and ready. I want to sink inside of

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her. Feel that heat clinging to me. With one strong arm holding her, he fumbled with his belt and the fly of his jeans. His prick sprang forward, slapping up against her wet invitation, and she moaned against his mouth, wiggling her hips in acceptance. I can’t wait. I have to have her, now! He slid into her tight, wet sheath and his knees almost buckled at the sweetness, the heat of her sex. She gripped him tightly still with her arms and legs, biting and licking his neck. Dirk threw his head back, the cords in his neck bulging with the strain of holding himself in check, a harder feat than he would have imagined. Being buried to the hilt in her was an unexpected paradise that made him want to blow. But he had to make sure she came with him. With her back pressed against the wall and his hands cupping her firm ass cheeks—two perfect globes for grabbing—he pumped her hard and fast. He slammed his cock in and out of her, her mewling cries and the moistness of her flesh driving him mad. Her sex gripped him tight, and as she squeezed even tighter around him he almost lost it. Grimacing with the pleasure and pain of holding back, he slowed his pace and titled his angle. And found the sweet spot he’d been looking for. Fingers clawed at his back as he bumped against her G-spot, over and over. When she convulsed and screamed, her moist flesh pulsing around him, he bellowed seconds later, shooting deep inside of her. Wave after wave of bliss crashed through him, making his legs almost buckle. Dirk shuddered at the intense pleasure he found in her body, a pleasure she felt equally, judging by her trembling and uneven breath. He cradled her close to him, his face buried in the sweet scent of her silken hair. Then reality nudged him, and reminded him of one important fact he’d forgotten in his mindless pursuit of pleasure. Dirk hadn’t just had the most mind-blowing orgasm ever; he’d also forgotten protection. “Shoot, princess,” he whispered against her hair, kissing her temple lightly. “Sorry, I lost control there. Please tell me you’re on the pill.” And with those words, the ice princess returned, hiding the glorious passionate woman he’d made love to a short moment ago.

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“No need to worry,” she answered, her face a blank mask as she unwrapped her legs from around his waist. He let her slide down and made no move to stop her when she moved away with unsteady steps. “I think you should leave now,” she said, her cool tone at odds with her passion-tousled hair and swollen, well-kissed lips. Dirk wanted to yell at her and ask her what the hell was wrong now. They’d both just shared an intense moment—she couldn’t deny that. Why retreat into bitch mode again? But looking at her face, her lower lip trembling slightly, Dirk decided to give her the space she requested. He couldn’t, after all, expect to completely melt her in one day or after one lovemaking session, even explosive as it had been. But get through he would, for he had a feeling once he chipped away the shell she kept herself encased in, she’d end up well worth the work. And he intended to find out who had hurt her, so he could beat the living daylights out of the bastard. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said with a grin he knew would drive her crazy, before walking out and leaving her with her mouth hanging open. She’d soon find out he wasn’t so easy to get rid of. ***** Once the door closed, Marissa stood there for a moment in the hall, still stunned by what had just happened. Oh my God, I can’t believe we just did it like that up against the wall. I never do stuff like that. Not even with my ex-husband. And she wanted to do it again. Who wouldn’t? She’d just enjoyed the most intense and satisfying sex ever. The strength he had—my God, he held me up like I was some dainty little thing, so effortlessly. And his size—I never knew men could be that big and filling. Marissa blushed at her own thoughts, but it was true. His size had made all the difference. For the first time ever she’d orgasmed through sex. Previously she’d required manual stimulation to achieve that feat. He’d done it by just kissing her and fucking her. Then there was his dominant handling of the situation. Hot and

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arousing, his mastery of her confused her even as she craved an encore. Marissa wandered down the hall in a daze, unsure what to do next. She knew she should shower. His scent, a masculine thing comprised of a sharp men’s cologne and sweat, clung to her, as did the erotic smell of her pussy—and she liked it. Liked it enough that she walked right past the bathroom and stripped naked to lie on her bed, rubbing her body on the sheets, covering them with his scent. She still hated him—kind of. But God, she loved his body and what it could make hers feel. Marissa squirmed on her sheets, sexually satisfied, but somehow aching for more. Her passion had wakened, and like a slumbering beast after a long hibernation, it wanted feeding. Between her legs, moisture pooled just thinking of how Dirk had felt sheathed inside of her. She reached a trembling hand down and touched herself with a gasp. Under her questing fingers, her flesh felt swollen, and the slightest touch of her finger sent a jolt of pleasure through her. As she rubbed her clit with slow, circular strokes, she closed her eyes and remembered the euphoria of his pumping her with his thick cock. So hard and filling her up so tightly. Her breath quickened as her fingers rubbed frantically between her legs. With her other hand, she reached down to slide two fingers in, their presence not as thick as his prick, but the memory of it was enough. With a little cry, she came again, her muscles squeezing damply around her inserted fingers. Marissa lay back on her bed, feeling a little dizzy. Oh, I am in lust, she mentally moaned. She hadn’t orgasmed in so long, and here she’d done it twice in one eve. Hell, she hadn’t masturbated since her teenage years. And it was all his fault. Him with his big sexy body and not taking no for an answer. Just thinking of him made her tingle again, and Marissa groaned, burying her face into her pillow. So much for fucking him and getting him out of her system. It looked like her body still craved more. Oh God, how will I be able to face him again? Now that he’s had me, he’ll probably stay away. Marissa was convinced he wouldn’t feel the same way. A guy like that probably could have any woman he wanted. Why had he chosen her? Probably the challenge of fucking an ice princess, as he liked to call her. Or could he possibly care?

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He had, after all, said he’d see her tomorrow. Not exactly what he’d say if this was a one-time thing for both of them, right? They certainly couldn’t start doing this daily. Or could they? The way her body purred and ached right now, maybe twice a day would be a plan.

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Chapter Nine The next morning Dirk woke up to the sound of Teletoon with a raging hard-on under the covers. He’d had a pleasant night of erotic dreams featuring Marissa, his ice princess. A part of him wished he could go over there right now and wake her up and show her how much she affected him. However, the boys were up, and they’d probably want breakfast. So much for morning nookie. He threw on a pair of track pants and wandered downstairs. “Morning, you little rascals,” he called out to them. “Morning,” they sang back, not once turning from the antics of Bugs Bunny on the screen. Dirk got the coffeepot going and then wandered out onto the front porch to get his Sunday paper. Bending over to grab it, he caught a glimpse of a person ducking down out of sight in a dark Cadillac across the street. What the hell? He went back into the house, shutting the front door, then stepped to the side and peered through the side glass at the car across the road. A head popped back into view, wearing dark glasses and a visored ball cap. Surveillance? Dirk felt himself break out into a cold sweat. Surely they hadn’t followed him. He’d kept his word and stuck to his story. Even done his time. But the more he watched the person in the car, he realized that maybe he had it wrong. The boys he used to run with wouldn’t get caught dead in a Caddy, not to mention subtle had never been one of their

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strong points. Curious, Dirk stayed at the window watching the watcher. Not once did the person look over at his house, and Dirk let out a sigh of relief, but then knotted his brow as he realized the watcher seemed to be fixated on the house next door. My ice princess’s house. Did she have a stalker? Hard to think of her attracting the attention of someone like that, but then again, she was a mighty attractive woman. Dirk cracked his knuckles; they’d be looking elsewhere if that was the case. She’s mine now. Maybe they were casing out the joint. Home invasions were a much more frequent occurrence nowadays. In which case they’d be in even worse trouble once he got his hands on them. Or maybe she’s a secret spy in disguise, and the bad guys have found her. Ha! My prim and proper ice princess doesn’t have the imagination to lead a double life. But just in case the mysterious watcher was up to no good, Dirk would keep a close eye. After all, when the guy saved the girl, didn’t he always get lucky? The ache in his groin sure hoped so. Just one taste and already he felt addicted. ***** Marissa had her grocery list in her purse and her ecological shopping bags tucked under her arm when she came out of her house and locked it. She avoided looking over at his house. She’d spent half the night dreaming about Dirk, tasting him this time. Having him in her bed, at her mercy to play with. Being at his mercy. She’d even gone so far as to wonder what it would be like to have been married to a man like him instead of her asshole of an ex. Pleasant fantasies of being a mom to the boys and having a cookie-cutter life like June Cleaver. Such a bittersweet fantasy and a dream that would never come true, not for a person like her. As she hit the open button on her key fob, the lights on her car blinked, unlocking it. Marissa clambered into her car and checked her

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mirrors, then buckled up before starting the car and putting it into reverse. She had to wait, though, as a dark sedan pulled away from the curb across the street and rolled up the street. Marissa eased off the brake and reversed down the driveway carefully. She shifted into drive and started up the street when she remembered. She’d forgotten to grab her dry cleaning. Unbuckling her seat belt, she shifted the car into reverse. She turned around in her seat to watch as she eased backwards up the street to her house, carefully watching for traffic. Once she reached her house, she shifted into drive again to pull into her driveway. She gave the car a little bit of gas to get up the slope, but the engine roared and she jerked forward up the driveway. Quickly letting go of the gas, Marissa hit the brake, but the pedal sank to the floor without any counter pressure and worse, without slowing down her car. Out of control and with a mind of its own, the car sped up the driveway and crashed hard into her garage door, denting it. Not that she noticed. Marissa flew forward, her head smacking hard against the steering wheel. Should have gotten the air bags, she thought groggily, then passed out. ***** Dirk heard the crash—a very close-sounding crash—and jumped out of the armchair he’d been snuggling the boys in, dumping them on the floor. They squawked at him as he raced to the front door and flew through it. The first thing he noticed when he opened the door was that the car doing surveillance had disappeared. Then he saw Marissa’s car crumpled against her garage door, the engine still running drunkenly. “Marissa!” he shouted, taking off at a quick jog, one that turned into a sprint when he saw her lying slumped over the steering wheel. He wrenched the driver side door open, wanting to pull her out, yet afraid to touch her.

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“Marissa,” he said, lightly touching her shoulder. She didn’t respond. Dirk anxiously checked for any bleeding, but afraid to move her, he couldn’t really tell what her injuries were. What if she has internal bleeding? Her car smacked the garage pretty hard. Could be all kinds of things going on that I can’t see? His heart raced in panic. He needed to get her some help. “Avery!” he bellowed, his voice louder than intended, a sign he was more freaked out than he’d like to admit. “What?” said Avery’s little voice from right behind him. The boys had followed him out of the house and stood behind him, staring in shock. Mason’s eyes were tearing as he sucked hard on his thumb. “Is Mari ‘kay?” asked Mason, popping out his thumb. His eyes brimmed over and his lower lip trembled. “Oh Mason, little guy,” said Dirk, sweeping him up in his arms. “She’ll be okay. Avery, get a phone so we can call an ambulance.” “No,” said a groggy voice. Dirk turned to see Marissa lifting her head slowly from the steering wheel, wincing. “You whacked yourself pretty good there. You should get checked out. You could have a concussion or internal injuries.” “I hit my head. I’ll be fine. Stupid car. I don’t know what happened.” Dirk wondered too and asked, “How did you manage to run into your own garage?” “I don’t know. I hit the brakes, but the pedal just went down and the car just kept revving up.” Dirk frowned at the car, then at Marissa as she eased herself out of the car gingerly. “Maybe you shouldn’t move. I’m going to call an ambulance.” “No,” she said, wincing. Dirk put down Mason and loaned her a hand to hold her steady. “Princess, you might have internal injuries or even a concussion.” “My body is fine. Just my head that hurts.” Done arguing with her, Dirk just scooped her up and carried her

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back to his house. The boys ran ahead and opened the door for him so he could just sweep right in and deposit her on their plaid family armchair. Or the snuggle chair, as the boys called it. Mason stood by the chair, silently sucking his thumb while watching Marissa. Avery, knowing the drill for bumps—of which the boys were veterans—ran for the ice pack. Dirk started to make a beeline for the Advil, knowing she’d have one hell of a headache, but first, he ran back out and turned the key, silencing the engine of her rattling car. Pulling out the key, he stood back and looked at the car for a moment. Something didn’t seem right. His nagging suspicion seemed farfetched. Not wanting to leave Marissa alone, though, he jogged back into the house, making a mental note to call Andy and have him tow the car to the garage so he could take a look at it later on. First, Advil for his princess’s sore head. ***** Marissa’s head pounded, waves of pain that made her slightly nauseous. Oh God, I don’t want him to see me throw up. I’ve got to get out of here. She tried to stand, almost toppling as the room lurched. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. Come on, Marissa, you can do this, she coached herself. She opened them again, the room no longer spinning, only to be confronted instead by a steadily staring Mason. He popped his thumb out of his mouth long enough to state, “Daddy say sit.” “Tell your Daddy I had to go home,” she said, weaving in the direction of the front door—all three of them—only to be confronted by another little munchkin wielding an ice pack like a weapon. Avery adopted a stern mien. “You need to sit so I can put the ice pack on your head. Daddy says if you don’t get it on quick you get a really big bruise.” “I’ve got ice at home,” Marissa said obstinately, still trying to

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stagger forward to the door that kept dancing around in front of her. Her stomach lurched unsteadily along with her while her head throbbed to the beat of a marching band. A sudden weight sent her off balance, and she looked down to see Mason had wrapped himself around her leg. And that simple act was enough to topple her. She felt herself falling and tensed her body for impact. But before she hit, strong hands caught her. “And just where do you think you’re going, princess?” asked a mocking voice. Marissa’s stomach lurched. Oh God, no, she managed to think before puking on his feet and swooning. Marissa woke with a pounding headache in a hospital bed with an IV in one arm and the world’s flattest pillow under her head. Craning her head slowly to avoid antagonizing the daggers of pain lancing through it, she saw a big heart-shaped balloon with a teddy bear saying “Get Bear-ter.” Ick. She turned away from this Hallmark monstrosity to find herself eye-to-eye with her redneck neighbor. “Good, you’re awake.” Dirk smiled at her. “Barely,” she grumbled. “I thought I told you no hospitals.” “Yeah, well when you puked on my feet and wouldn’t wake up, I decided you needed to get checked out.” Marissa cringed as she kind of remembered that part. “Doctor says you should be fine, by the way, and you can go home. But,” he said, raising his hand at her smile of self-satisfaction, “you need someone to keep an eye on you and wake you every couple of hours for the next twenty-four hours.” “Sure,” said Marissa. She’d agree to anything to get out of here. She hated hospitals. All those icky germs. She’d just lie to the doctor about someone checking in on her. “I told the doctor I live right next door and that I’d check on you.” “What?” Who does he think he is? My boyfriend? Dirk grinned unabashedly at her. “Oh please. I know you well enough to know you’d have lied to get out of here. You have a mild concussion, princess. For the next twenty-four hours, I’m going to be your

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nursemaid.” “I don’t need—” she argued. “Yes you do,” he interrupted. “Why are you doing this?” Marissa asked, baffled. “I mean, it’s not like we even like each other.” But their bodies sure did. “Speak for yourself, princess, I like you just fine.” “You do not. Nobody likes me.” Of course, Marissa didn’t do anything to help that situation. She preferred being alone. With her misery. “I’d say I proved that theory wrong last night,” he replied dryly. “Or do you need a repeat? The nurses might be a little shocked, but I’m more than willing to prove I like you.” “You fucked me, redneck. That was just our bodies. It doesn’t mean we’re friends.” “You’re right, we’re closer than friends. We’re lovers.” “Lovers implies it’s ongoing. We did it once.” Although if her body had its way, they’d do it again, and again, and… “And we will do it again,” he said with assurance, repeating her thoughts. “Says who?” Marissa couldn’t help arguing. It just wasn’t in her nature to give in easily or gracefully. “Says me,” he said, leaning forward so his nose brushed hers while his eyes stared intently into hers. “Call it what you like, lovers or fuck buddies. I want you, and I know you still want me.” “Do not,” she said stubbornly, her body getting warm. Somebody get a doctor, because she had a fever! “Really,” he drawled, running one finger down her cheek to her lips, which opened in a half sigh. “You want me. Don’t make me prove it here. We might not be the best of friends yet, but our bodies are in harmony. Or are you trying to tell me you didn’t enjoy last night?” Marissa blushed to the roots of her hair. “I did, but—” “No buts. As soon as you are better, we will be doing it again. And again. I’m figuring three times a day might keep me from getting constant hard-ons.”

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“Don’t I get a say in this?” she said, partially aroused, but also getting angry with his commanding air. Who put him in charge of her body? Never mind, she wanted the same thing, although she did wonder if perhaps they might need to aim for more than three times daily. “I know what you’ll say. So from now on I make the decisions,” he said, kissing her lightly, forestalling her next words, then leaving to find the doctor to get her discharged. Marissa silently fumed. She fumed when he made the arrangements for her to be checked out of the hospital. She fumed in the wheelchair he wheeled her out in. She fumed in his car—a nice remodeled Monte Carlo—all the way home. Dirk said not a word, unless you counted humming. He hummed to the radio, tapping his hands on the steering wheel while grinning at her every so often. He seemed completely untouched by her ill humor. The jerk. Tired of his obvious good humor, she asked, “Where are the boys?” “Andy, guy I work with, is watching them. Good thing we weren’t delayed too long at the hospital. Andy’s a good guy, but he’s little more than a kid himself and, well, my boys can get up to mischief without a firm hand to guide them.” Marissa said nothing further, instead staring blankly out the window, trying to ignore Dirk’s disturbing presence beside her. Soon she would be home and able to escape and hide from the feelings he provoked in her, both mental and physical. She still couldn’t get over his high-handed behavior with her in the hospital. Telling her they were lovers and that he’d be the one calling the shots. Marissa didn’t want a lover. That implied feelings. His other term, fuck buddies, seemed more appropriate. Fuck buddies did just that—fuck, with no emotional attachment. That she could handle. She’d do him until she got him out of her system, and then she could go back to her neatly ordered—boring and lonely—life. Pulling into his driveway, she immediately opened the door to get out, throwing a “Thank you” over her shoulder. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked.

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“Home,” she said, stopping to look at him leaning on the top of his car. He shook his head. “No you’re not. The doctor said someone had to keep an eye on you, and I can’t do that if you’re there and I’m here. Unless you want me to bring the boys over. I warn you, though, they leave a path of destruction behind them that is worse than any tornado.” Marissa thought of her pristine house and shuddered. “You’ll be staying at my house for the day and overnight so I can wake you every four hours like I’m supposed to,” he said with a smile, thinking he had her cornered. Marissa opened her mouth to argue, but snapped it shut when he said, still smiling, “If you argue, I’m going to kiss you over and over and over. So please go ahead, vent, ‘cause I’d love to taste your lips again.” Marissa kept them clamped. Kind of stupid of her, seeing as how she also wanted to taste his lips again. It’s the point of the matter, she thought huffily. He looked disappointed for a second, but then laughed. “Oh boy, I can’t wait to see how long it takes before you make me kiss you.” Marissa glared while he laughed, coming around the car to sweep her up into his muscular arms and carrying her over the threshold into his house. Here comes the bride—not! “We’re home,” he called after walking in and settling her back in the big armchair. “Hey, Dirk,” said a lanky fellow in an AC/DC T-shirt and low-hipped jeans as he wandering into the room followed by the boys, who both raced at Dirk for a swirl-around hug. The children crowed, a loud sound that made the pounding in her head speed up. Dirk look chagrined when he saw her face. “Sorry, princess. My boys tend to be a little loud.” “Now there’s an understatement,” she said dryly. She felt scrabbling at her legs and looked down to see Mason climb up on her and settle himself in her lap, thumb in his mouth. Dirk stared at them with an odd look on his face while Marissa sat still, holding her breath. What do I do? She’d never had a child do this to

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her. She placed her arms awkwardly around Mason, who snuggled deeper into her, making her eyes prickle with moisture. Oh my, but this is nice, she thought. “You ‘kay, Mari?” lisped Mason, craning to look up at her. “I’m better now,” she whispered, touched by this little boy’s concern and trying to figure out how she got dust in her eyes. A nudge on her elbow had her turning her head to see Avery looking at her, his face brimming with questions. “Did they prick you with needles? Did you have to eat any awful medicine? Did you get the green Jell-O? I don’t like green Jell-O. I like the red one.” Marissa reeled under the questions. Dirk saved her, though. “Hey, Avery, can you make Marissa a tall glass of water with ice cubes?” “Okay,” he said, racing off. Dirk turned to Andy. “Hey, did you feed my kids any lunch while we were gone?” Andy laughed. “We had some Fruit Loops, man. That’s about all I can cook.” Dirk shook his head. “Andy, my boy, what am I going to do with you? How is it you don’t starve?” “Oh, I never worry about that. Every woman I meet wants to feed me,” Andy said with a wink at Marissa. Marissa frowned at him. Impertinent scamp. “Okay, boys, what should we make for lunch?” “PANCAKES!” screamed the two youngsters without hesitation. Mason jumped off her lap to hop up and down with Avery, who sloshed the glass of water he’d fetched all over the floor. Marissa itched to grab a towel and wipe it. She also winced at the continued noise level—for two little boys, they made an awful racket. Dirk looked at her apologetically. “Boys, we gotta keep it quiet for Marissa. Her head still hurts. Speaking of which, doc said you could take Advil or Tylenol for the pain. Want some now? It’s been a few hours since your last dose.” Marissa nodded her head and instantly regretted it. Ouch!

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Dirk turned and walked away, a nice view to be sure in snug jeans, and when she looked away, she saw the young fellow called Andy watching her with a quizzical grin. “So you and the boss are an item, huh?” “No,” she stated. Unless you counted having frantic sex on the wall of her front hall as a relationship. Andy just chuckled. “Hey, it’s okay. Didn’t mean to embarrass you or nothing. The boss is a good guy. He could use a nice lady in his life.” Marissa felt like asking if he had many ladies in his life, but kept her mouth shut. She didn’t care about his previous or current paramours, she thought, grinding her teeth. Dirk came back and handed her the pain relievers along with the rescued glass of water. When a crash sounded from the kitchen, he said, “Be right back,” and jogged off into what she guessed was the kitchen area. “Well, I gotta go. Nice to meet you, Marissa.” With a saucy grin, Andy left and Marissa, alone for the moment, could now assess exactly where she sat. While not dirty, the living room certainly looked lived in. From the toys scattered on the floor, to the battered coffee table and sagging couch, the room screamed family. A modest television sat on a plain stand, and the floors were a scuffed hardwood. The chair she sat in, a huge plaid recliner, looked worn, but well loved judging by its position of prominence in the room. She wondered what Dirk’s bedroom looked like, then immediately chastised herself. Surely she had no interest in visiting that room. Although, if he kissed her again like he had last night, they’d need a new place to baptize. Who am I kidding? I want him to touch me again. Stupid big redneck. Can’t believe he made me see fireworks last night. Judging by the giggles and rumbling of Dirk laughing, the boys were having fun in the kitchen. Curious, Marissa eased out of the chair and edged toward the doorway. She stopped and stared at the scene of chaos.

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The boys each stood on a kitchen chair at the kitchen’s big countertop island. Dirk had a big mixing bowl, and the boys were pouring in each ingredient as Dirk handed it to them. Mason dumped a cup of flour in the bowl and a puff of white particles lifted, making him cough, then giggle. She must have made some sound, for Dirk looked up and saw her. He gave her such a sweet smile and looked so goddamned adorable surrounded by his boys that she felt her tummy do a whole routine of gymnastic somersaults, and even odder, her heart did some too. He mistook her sudden shiver for one of weakness and hurried over to her, perching her up on a stool, which thankfully had a half back for her to lean into. His concerned eyes gazed into hers. “You okay?” “Yes,” said Marissa, unable to help the sound coming out soft. “Mari, wook,” said Mason, grinning with a powdery face. “I maked pancakes.” “I see that, Mason.” “You gunna eat dem?” he asked, cocking his head at her. Marissa’s germaphobic side screamed, “No!,” but she found herself forcing a smile and saying, “Of course I will.” Dirk nodded approvingly at her, and she felt warm inside. She really must have whacked her head hard. The making of pancakes with small children proved to be quite educational, not to mention entertaining. Marissa watched them wistfully thinking of her own childhood. Her parents had been loving in their own fashion, but they worked long hours and when she did see them, their expectation of her had been that she should comport herself like a miniature adult. They’d certainly never been as raucous as these guys, and Marissa felt a pang at yet another example of how a family could be. After they all ate the surprisingly tasty if oddly shaped pancakes smothered in syrup—a sin she’d have to make up for—he carried her back to the living room, under protest, for another round of sit-in-the-boring-chair. “I can walk, you know,” she retorted once he set her down.

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“Are you arguing?” Dirk asked, his eyes fixated on her lips. Marissa felt a flash of heat and thought about saying “Yes!” just to feel those lips again, but true to form, she instead clamped her own lips tight and glared at him. He chuckled and turned to ask the boys what they’d like to do. Then Marissa spent the strangest afternoon of her life playing board games like Sorry!, Snakes and Ladders and more. The strangest part was, she enjoyed it. She found herself smiling more than she had in years, even giggling a few times at the antics of the children. Talk about surreal. Marissa felt like she’d left the world she knew and entered some kind of twilight dimension where instead of being an aloof bitch, she was actually a part of a family that teased, talked and enjoyed themselves. I don’t want it to stop, she thought wistfully. Dinner comprised of delivery—pizza, wings and wedges. Marissa stopped listening to the healthy voice in her head screaming about the junk she was eating. It tasted much too good. After dinner, Dirk let her walk upstairs, hovering close behind her in case she should get dizzy, and she read the boys several stories at their request. The first she read, Goldilocks and the Three Bears, started out stiff. But when Mason said she needed to do the voices of the bears, she relaxed, and soon she had them in stitches with her rendition of the three bears, who, as she told the children, should have locked their door in the first place. After allowing herself to be hugged and given sloppy kisses—which she managed not to shudder at—she followed Dirk out into the hall. “I think the boys really like you,” he said, leading the way back down the stairs. “Yeah, there’s no accounting for some people’s taste,” she joked, still feeling mellow, the pain medication making her head feel light and fluffy. Dirk turned around at the bottom of the stairs. “Why don’t you want people to like you?” “I don’t care what people think of me,” she said stiffly, moving past

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him to sink into the plaid chair, which had grown on her after an afternoon spent in it. “I think you do care, which is why you adopt this bitchy, I’m-better-than-you attitude. Who made you feel like shit in your past that you now feel you have to be this way?” Marissa cocked a brow at his language. “Who hasn’t?” she said, shrugging. And why do you care? “I’m gonna take a wild guess here and say an ex-boyfriend or husband. Am I close?” Marissa’s face dropped into a smooth mask. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Come on. Talk to me. I want to get to know you better.” Marissa felt a moment’s panic. Her past belonged to her, along with all its pain and betrayal. So she did what she did best when she felt uncertain—she attacked. “What did you go to prison for?” Expecting him to tell her to mind her own business, she couldn’t hide the look of surprise on her face when he answered with a rueful smile. “I guess the boys told you. It’s okay. I’m not ashamed of it. I did some bad things in the past, and I had to pay for them.” Marissa eyed the door. Maybe now would be a good time to escape. Dirk must have sensed the direction of her thoughts, because he laughed, a big belly sound that made her frown at him. “Oh, princess. I’m not a raving lunatic or murderer.” “Says you,” she muttered. “They don’t send choir boys to jail.” “No, they don’t,” he agreed. “You want to know? Fine. Here goes in a nutshell. I belonged to a motorcycle gang.” Marissa’s jaw dropped. Dirk, a biker? Yeah, she could picture him in leather on a motorcycle. A totally hot look. “The gang I belonged to,” he continued, “was not as hard core as some, but they weren’t exactly a law-abiding bunch. We were a rowdy group, spending most of our time drunk or stoned. For cash, we grew and sold some of the best marijuana in the district.”

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“You’re a drug dealer?” Marissa could only stare at him. Oh my God, but he seems so nice. Not like those addicts she saw wandering the streets of town, begging for change to get another fix. “Was. I don’t go near drugs now. Back then, though, I was living the high life—literally. And then I got caught. I spent almost two years in jail, and since my release over a year ago, I’ve been drug and alcohol free. My parole officer even makes sure of that, giving me random blood tests.” “But you don’t act like a convict.” “And how does a convict act?” Dirk retorted. “Never mind—having seen some of the guys in the joint, I can kind of see where you’re coming from. Honestly, though, being in jail was the best thing that could have happened to me. Not being around the drugs and alcohol, not to mention separated from my buddies, I had a chance to look at my life and realize I didn’t like it so much.” “But what about the boys and their mother?” “Ah yes, Carla. Well, see, Carla was a part of the gang. It’s how we hooked up. It’s a wonder the boys ended up normal, what with the drugs we both did. Not to mention she hit the bottle pretty hard while pregnant. When I went to jail, she couldn’t handle the boys alone, not that I was much help back then. She ditched them with my mom and took off with some guy in the gang who decided to run from the cops instead of going to jail.” “But how could she leave them?” Marissa whispered. “They would have been just babies.” “Oh, leave them she did,” said Dirk grimly. “And she never looked back. Not one card, phone call, nothing. My poor mom, she had her hands full when she first got them. We hadn’t exactly been exemplary parents. She brought them to visit me every weekend even though I begged her not to, I was so embarrassed. I didn’t want them to see their dad locked up like some animal. But now I’m glad she did, because it made me realize I had to change my life. That the boys deserved something better. Hell, I deserved better. When they released me I went to live with my mom and the boys for a while. She taught me how to take care of them, and they learned to get to know me. The real man, not the drunken,

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stoned idiot that I used to be. After about six months she kicked me out, lovingly, of course,” he said with a grin. “She said the boys and I needed to be a family. That’s when I got the garage and we moved here. We were renting a small apartment at first until I started getting the money coming in, then we found this place. Close to schools with a yard, and the kids each get their own bedroom. I think they’re happy now.” Marissa could only listen, stunned as a picture of the man before her emerged. One not afraid to admit he’d made mistakes. One who had learned from them and moved on to become a better person and parent. Someone worth respecting. Someone way too easy to fall for. Someone who deserved better than her. “Why are you telling me this?” “As lovers, I think it only fair that you know where I’m coming from. No secrets. This is who I am. Take it or leave it.” “We’re not lovers,” she replied out of habit. “Are you arguing, princess?” he said, coming over to her and leaning over the chair, one hand braced on each armrest. Marissa caught her breath and looked up at him, wanting nothing more than to kiss him and do other things. More carnal things. But he deserves better than me, a bitch who is only half a woman. “Come on, princess, why the sad face?” He tilted her chin up to force her to look at him. “Would being lovers be such a bad thing?” “Getting involved would be a bad idea.” “Why?” he whispered, rubbing his calloused thumb across her bottom lip. And while Marissa could think of a hundred reasons why they shouldn’t get involved, she couldn’t voice them, not when he stared at her so tenderly. Like she was worth something. Like he cared. She didn’t stop him when he brushed his lips across hers. A sweet, gentle caress that brought tears to her eyes. She couldn’t do this. She’d end up getting hurt. And the thought of the pain propelled her up out of the chair and away from his tempting lips. “Just where do you think you’re going?” he said with a frown.

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“I should go home now. I feel fine, really.” The furrows in his forehead deepened. “The doc said you needed to be woken every four hours. I intend to see that you obey.” “You can’t give me orders. I’m a big girl, and I’ve decided I’m going home.” “Arguing, are you?” he said, his eyes turning smoky. “I warned you what would happen if you did that.” Marissa shut her mouth, but too late—or not soon enough. He pulled her into his arms and claimed her protesting lips. She sagged in his arms; why fight it when she knew she wanted it? She’d deal with the pain of rejection later. For now, she’d live in the moment, take what he offered. The future be damned. She pressed her lips back fiercely against his, and he responded by simply picking her up, carrying her princess style up the stairs to his room. His mouth never left hers, and she basked in the warm glow their touch spread through her body. It even made the ache in her head seem distant. He laid her down on a bed, and she opened her eyes when his lips left hers. He stared down at her, a rueful look on his face. “You look so yummy right now. But…” “But what?” she asked, feeling cold now that she no longer lay in his arms. Had she made a mistake? “You need to rest without me mauling you. You’re still recovering from a head injury, and, well, I tend to be rather vigorous in the bedroom. I get the feeling you are too.” Marissa blushed, both pleased and embarrassed by his assessment. Yes, she doubted either of them could be passive when it came to bedroom games, the one place where their bodies and minds seemed in harmony. “Here,” he said, going to a drawer and pulling something out. “I don’t have any nighties, obviously, but my T-shirt should be big enough to cover you, unless you want to sleep nude,” he said with a leering smile. “No wait, on second thought, forget I said that. No way would I be able to

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keep my hands off you if you were naked.” “Are you going to help me?” she asked with a smile, astonished at her own forwardness. Screw her head injury; she had other body parts throbbing now. Dirk groaned and shook his head. “Damn, princess, you really aren’t going to make this easy. I’ll be back in a minute. Get changed.” Marissa smiled as he left her alone to strip. Removing and folding her garments neatly, she stacked them on his scarred wooden dresser, leaving only her panties on before pulling on the oversized T-shirt. It hung almost to her knees, the cottony material soft and clingy. Being clean, it lacked his scent, but she reveled in the feel of something that had been so close to his skin now hugging hers. God, what is wrong with me, getting turned on by a T-shirt? She clambered back on the bed, and only a moment passed before he came back, his eyes alighting on her immediately, tracking the length of her long legs up to the hem. His frank appraisal made her nipples tighten and protrude against the soft material, a fact his hungry eyes didn’t miss. But still he stood in the doorway not coming near, which wouldn’t do at all. Marissa didn’t know how to act coy or girly, but she did know she wanted him beside her in this enormous bed of his. It had nothing to do with feelings, just pure lust, and maybe a tiny bit of fantasy. While she understood they had no future together, for the moment she wanted to pretend that this could be her fantasy life. One where she played the part of loving mother and when the kids went to bed, father took her to carnal heights she never dreamed possible. She patted the bed beside her and said in a husky voice she never knew she had, “Remember the doctor said you had to keep a close eye on me.” Brazen hussy, but judging by the smoldering look on his face, he liked it. He stripped off his shirt, leaving his chest bare before her eyes for the first time, and the sight made her whole body tingle. Big was the only word to describe him, and strong like an ox. Wide shoulders with thick muscles all over. A broad chest with even more slabs of muscle. The guy resembled a walking titan.

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While his head might only sport a thin stubble, his chest was another matter, with dark, curly hair covering him from between his flat nipples, tapering down to his waist to disappear under his waistband like a mysterious road she wished to follow and explore. He quirked his lips at her frank eyed perusal and came to lie down on the bed. “Aren’t you going to take your jeans off?” she asked, eyeing his lower torso. Hmm, wonder if it looks as big as it felt? Marissa thought she heard him grumble something about bossy women, but he left the room for a moment and came back dressed in a pair of track pants. She arched a brow, and he grinned. “Left these in the bathroom when I changed earlier. I figured it would be safer if I changed out of sight. I don’t trust that glint in your eyes,” he joked. Marissa just smiled. He shouldn’t trust her. Because head injury or not, she wanted him. Now she just had to persuade him to see it her way. Lying down on the bed beside her, he pulled her in close, a solid warmth against the length of her body. Marissa felt her tingles turn into heat that spread through her body, making her feel feverish. She laid her head on his shoulder, her hand on his chest. Lightly she rubbed him, enjoying the feel of his smooth skin and even the coarse feel of the hair that covered his chest. She skimmed her hand over one of his flat nipples and felt a tremor go through him. Smiling to herself, she let her hand slide lower, following the curly trail until her hand rested on a very prominent bulge easily felt through his track pants. He tensed beneath her touch, and she held her breath, waiting. When he didn’t move, she gave the rock in his pants a light squeeze and waited again. She didn’t wait long. “Dammit, princess,” he groaned before rolling her onto her back and covering her body with his own, his lips eagerly seeking hers. Marissa met his passionate embrace and threw in some tongue, a sinuous delight that had him pressing hard at the junction of her thighs. She arched her hips into him, grinding her pelvis against his, frustrated at

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the cloth that separated them. She reached down and tugged at his pants. He caught her hands and pulled them above her head, trapping them. She squirmed, excited by his manhandling. Their mouths meshed, fueling the building fire in her body. When he slid his mouth from hers, she mewled in loss, but then hissed in pleasure as his seeking mouth found an erect nub, and tugged on it wetly through the fabric of the shirt she wore. He teased her, nipping and sucking at her nipples while she panted, her hands still trapped no matter how she resisted. “Please, let me touch you,” she begged. His reply was to release her hands, only to use them to squeeze and fondle her breasts. But Marissa couldn’t handle any more. She wanted him inside her, now. She pushed at him, and he rolled onto his back. She used his capitulation to tug at his track pants. He lifted his hips and helped her ease them off, allowing his cock to spring out. Before she could climb on top, he’d gently rolled her underneath him, his hard prick probing the entrance of her wet pussy. “This can’t be good for you,” he groaned against her lips; the tip of his erection just rubbing the slit between her legs was driving her insane. “Fuck me,” she panted back. Moaning, he tried to pull back, but her arms and legs wrapped around him, holding him close. “Shit, let me just grab a condom. I’m medically clean, but I don’t want to accidentally get you pregnant.” Marissa went slightly rigid beneath him, but her desire overrode her usual ice. “Don’t worry, I’m clean too, and you don’t have to worry about me getting pregnant. It’s taken care of.” She didn’t feel a need to mention how. At her words, his lips captured hers again. The head of his erection pushed against her wet sex and then plunged in. Marissa arched. The thick feel of him inside her pushed right up to that orgasmic edge. She dug her nails into his back as he pumped her. He drove his slick length in and out of her with ease. She’d never been so wet and ready in her life.

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She unwrapped her legs from around him and let them fall to the side, opening herself wider to take him in deeper. And deeper he went, each thrust hitting the end of her womb and jolting her with pleasure, a maelstrom of bliss that built in blissful layers until, with a scream that he captured with his mouth, she went over the edge and exploded into thousands of pieces. With a grunt his body went rigid above hers, and she felt the spurting warmth inside her as he found his release. His heavy body collapsed on her, and he panted heavily in her ear. Marissa stroked his back, too overwhelmed to speak. I thought yesterday might have been a fluke. I mean come on, I’ve never been easy to orgasm, but there’s something about my redneck. Something powerful that makes me melt. I never thought I’d be the submissive type, but now, after being taken by a real man, I can see the appeal. Not that I’ll ever tell him. Dirk rolled onto his side, but he kept her close to him, big arms wrapped around her like a warm blanket. Cuddled for the first time in her life, Marissa fell asleep, content. Every couple of hours, Dirk woke her as per the doctor’s orders, although the doctor would have been shocked at his methods. Stroking her body to life, he waited until her eyes fluttered open and she responded to him. With soft sighs, she welcomed his hardness inside her body, their middle of the night couplings, less intense but all the sweeter for their gentleness. In the morning, he woke her with a kiss. “Two choices, princess,” he whispered in the ear he nibbled on. “One, you stay here in my bed, until I can escape the garage, while the sitter minds the boys, or—” “Or I leave before she sees me,” said Marissa as the light of day crept through the windows, shattering the reverie of the previous night. Her body felt sore, pleasurably so, but the dream was over. Time for real life again. With a hard kiss on the lips and a promise to call him if she needed him, Dirk left her alone in her house. A house that seemed so cold and unwelcoming after the day spent in his. “Come on, Marissa,” she spoke aloud. “Get your head together. Sure, it was nice. But it’s over now. You have nothing in common with

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him. And even if you did, he’d run away once he found out you’re damaged goods. A guy like him in his prime; he’ll probably want more kids with whomever he decides to settle down with.” A thought that made her sad, and yes, even jealous. Beyond the fact he was a powerful and potent lover, she’d seen a side of him that showed a man she could grow to respect and—gasp—even love. A part of her wanted him, to keep forever, while her cynical side screamed, He’ll betray you. Where had the idea of love come from? She snorted. A few good fucks and suddenly the “L” word came to mind. Turned out she harbored girly feelings she hadn’t believed herself capable of. What had happened to not depending on anyone? Not letting anyone get near or hurt her. And hurt her he would, if she allowed him to stay close to her. Unacceptable, even if he made her feel like a woman. First things first. She needed a shower, then a nap. Her body felt sticky—pleasantly so—and tired—again in a nice way. After her nap, she’d work on her “we can’t see each other anymore” speech. Even if all she wanted to do was make love to him until they both passed out from exhaustion.

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Chapter Ten Andy pushed Marissa’s car onto the lift in the garage, using the tow truck, its bumper padded, to prevent further damage. Dirk stared at the car, a frown on his face, while Andy got out of the truck and whistled looking at the wrecked Beretta. “And you say she did this bumping into her garage door? How fast was she going? Jeez, look at the front end.” The car would never be the same—although Dirk intended to do his best. He had a lot of work ahead of him. The bumper—what was left of it—hung brokenly, the grill and lights cracked and smashed. The hood had buckled up, enough that straightening it would not be an option. Dirk shooed Andy away from Marissa’s car, sending him to work on a Volkswagen that had come in that morning. He wanted to look at it himself. Needed to look at it himself. Something didn’t seem right about the accident. Marissa’s car, while old, had appeared to him to be in perfect condition. Like the rest of her home and garden, it had been pristine on the outside, and knowing what he did of her, he’d wager she kept its inner workings superbly maintained too. The first thing he did, after placing it up in the air on a hoist, was pull off all the wheels and check the brakes. Everything looked in working condition, actually better than working—the pads still thick, the rotors miraculously rust free. When he ran his finger along the first brake line, his finger came away greasy with fluid. Frowning, he checked the other three brake lines and to his disbelief, on each of the lines he felt the

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slickness indicating a leak. Upon further inspection, he found tiny pinprick holes on all four lines. Un-freaking-believable. This was no accident! Dirk brought the car down and looked at the bent hood. He wanted to look at the engine compartment, but first he’d have to take the hood off. After much grunting and swearing, and a hand from Andy, they pulled the piece of humped metal off. Grabbing a rag, Dirk then twisted off the brake line reservoir and confirmed its empty state. Dirk bet he’d find most of it pooled on Marissa’s driveway. When she’d pulled out initially, there had probably been just enough fluid in the brakes for her to stop and pull back in. But trying to stop again, the brake lines now empty, she’d been screwed. That alone should have just put her into the garage with a bump, but she’d hit the garage hard. He remembered her mentioning the engine surging, like she had her foot on the gas even though she’d been braking at the time. Dirk opened the little spring door on the side of the car, unscrewed the gas cap, and found traces of a white powder. It actually looked like flour, not that he’d taste it. With a sneaky suspicion, Dirk quickly found the needed tools and proceeded to pull out the fuel filter. As he’d already begun to suspect, he found it partially clogged with a sticky matter—the white flour or powder he’d found. A partially clogged filter explained the surge. The car’s electronic computer would have tried to overcompensate for the narrowed filter, pumping more gas through, creating the surge. That combined with the brakes spelled one thing in his mind. Someone wanted Marissa hurt—or dead. But why? Sure, his ice princess could act like a class-one bitch; however, that didn’t explain the level of hatred someone must have felt to do something like this. What secrets did she hide? Dirk cursed himself also for not getting the license plate of the car he’d seen watching her house. Had the culprit sat out there waiting to see the results of their actions? One thing was for sure, when he finished work, he’d have a talk with his ice princess. He intended to get some answers—and some nookie. No matter what she was involved in, intentionally or not, it didn’t affect the strong feelings he had for her. Feelings that surprised him. Attraction

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he could understand, but this protective feeling he felt inside when he realized someone wanted to hurt her? It made him want to hit something or somebody. Enough mushy thoughts, though; he still had work to do. Walking around the car, looking for more signs of tampering, he saw the trunk sat partially ajar. Lifting it up, he looked inside and noticed a large hockey bag. What the hell does she need a hockey bag for? She doesn’t look like the sporty type. He knew he shouldn’t look in the bag, she had a right to her privacy, but the same curiosity that killed the cat and a need to know more about her had him pulling the bag out and undoing the zipper. What he saw inside made his eyes go round, and he let out a whistle. Secrets indeed! ***** Marissa felt a little lightheaded, but her head no longer hurt thanks to a couple of extra-strength Tylenols. Now if she could just avoid mirrors—that nasty bruise on her forehead made her wince whenever she saw it. Accident? Or the blackmailer making good on his threat? That question had run through her mind a thousand times since she’d regained consciousness. Surely, the blackmailer wouldn’t try to kill her? Maybe something had let loose. Her car, after all, was past its prime, and good maintenance or not, things broke. But Marissa couldn’t stop the nagging fear that this wasn’t an accident. And if it had been someone out to hurt her, or—gulp—kill her, what then? A knock sounded at the door. Marissa ignored it. She’d called in sick this morning, and she was already thinking of taking the rest of the week off. She had no interest in seeing anybody or answering their questions. But the person at the door persisted, the knocks turning into a pounding that had her getting up off her couch and stalking to the door. Flinging it open, she found herself not surprised to see Dirk.

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“What do you want?” she asked crossly. In the light of day, the ice princess had returned. “We need to talk,” he said, brushing past her and coming inside. Make yourself at home, she thought, watching his big male body, moving through her pristine white space into the living room. A yummy male body that she longed to strip naked and taste again. She followed him and stood in the archway, arms crossed over her chest, glowering at him. Like a wild animal, he paced her white retreat, his muscles taut, his face serious, his usual grin and mischievous twinkle absent. “I was looking at your car today.” Marissa felt her heart speed up. “Why were you doing that? I didn’t ask you to.” “I know you didn’t,” he said, stopping his pacing to face her. “But I wanted to check some things out.” “And?” she asked, suddenly nervous. “What happened wasn’t an accident,” he stated grimly, making her stomach plummet and her breath stop. Oh my God, she panicked. Someone does want to hurt me. And the ironic part of it all? They wanted to hurt her because she got paid to hurt someone involved with the blackmailer. Not fair, though. She’d stopped. Well okay, she hadn’t technically notified her clients yet, but since her session the other night, she’d come to a decision. She was done pro Domming. She’d lost her enjoyment in it, and given everything happening in her life, it was time to quit. How to let her assailant know, though? “You don’t seem too surprised,” he said suspiciously, moving closer to her to stare at her with intent eyes and knitted brows. “I—um…” she stuttered. What do I tell him? He’ll never understand. Just like I can’t take this to the police. The questions and humiliation would be too much. But I’m scared. Dirk grabbed both her arms and shook her lightly. “What is it you’re hiding? Why does someone want to hurt you?” “I have no idea,” she lied, dropping her eyes to stare at her floor. She couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t bear to see the look of disgust in his eyes.

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“You’re lying to me. Does this have to do with what I found in the trunk of your car?” Marissa gaped at him, her mouth opening and closing, gasping for air like a fish on land. Oh my God, he knows. Flustered and not liking it one bit, she attacked. “What the hell were you doing snooping in my trunk? You had no right to do that. My personal life is my business.” “No, princess, when you became involved with me and thus my boys, it became my business. What the hell is all that shit for anyway? Are you some kind of kinky hooker?” he asked, his tone disappointed. Hooker? He thought she was some kind of slut selling her sexual favors. Shaking off his hands, she moved away from him and adopted her icy persona, the one that always sheltered her. “I am not a hooker,” she said disdainfully. “I would never sell my body for money.” “Then how do you explain all that leather, whips and shit? What, do you like to play sex games for fun, then? “ “Aside from you, I haven’t had sex since my husband walked out on me. Actually, even before that. And that was almost seven years ago.” “Princess.” Dirk came close to her again, invading her personal space. His voice lowered. “You’re avoiding my questions. The stuff in your trunk, it has to do with why someone wants to hurt you, doesn’t it?” “Maybe,” she hedged. Then, steeling herself for his response, she looked him straight in the eye. “I’m a professional dominatrix.” Dirk stared back, absorbing her words. Then he laughed. When she didn’t join him in his laughter, he howled even louder. “You mean you like wear leather and shit and go around giving guys orders and whipping them. So you are a hooker?” “The only thing a hooker and I have in common is we’re both paid for our service by idiotic men. As stated previously, I do not indulge in sexual escapades of any kind—with anyone. Or at least I didn’t until you,” she corrected with a glare. “I don’t see the difference. You’re getting guys off, they’re just not touching you.” Marissa didn’t quite have a reply to that. While she didn’t allow her

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slaves to gratify themselves sexually, she knew that many of them found pleasure in what she did. Oh God, I am no better than a prostitute, she thought, sitting down hard, close to tears. “I’ve never let them touch me,” she whispered. “I was just so angry, all the time. Beating men gave me an outlet for it. I know it sounds sick and disgusting, but it’s the only thing that kept me sane,” she said, tears rolling down her cheeks. She wiped at them with her hand, appalled that she’d allowed him to reduce her to this state. And angry too. “Are you happy now?” Marissa snapped. “You know my dark, dirty secret. So why don’t you just leave now. I know you want to.” “Oh princess, hey there, don’t cry,” he said, sitting beside her and putting his arm around her. Marissa stiffened. He pitied her, which really pissed her off. She shrugged off his arm. “I don’t need your pity. I did what I needed to do. But if it makes you happy, I’ve decided to stop. For some reason, I’m not as angry as I used to be. Now go away and leave me alone.” Yes, leave her alone to weep in misery for having pushed away the only man who made her feel alive since she became barren. But he just wouldn’t leave. Again he put an arm around her, hugging her. “Listen, we all do things for money, some we’re not proud of. Trust me, I’ve done a few of those, more than a few in my lifetime.” Marissa couldn’t understand him. He should be pushing her away, not offering understanding. She jumped up off the couch, moving away from him and her confusion. “Princess, get back over here,” he ordered. Marissa shook her head. “I think you’d better leave,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. He shook his head and stalked her. Marissa knew she should avoid the glint in his eye, but a part of her wanted to feel his arms around her again. Wanted to believe she was worthy of being cared about. Worthy of being loved. So she let him catch her, wondering if perhaps she was making the biggest mistake of all. One that would cost her what was left of her fragile heart.

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***** Dirk could see from Marissa’s face that she expected him to reject her now that he knew her secret. Doesn’t she know yet that I’m not that easy to scare? He cornered her like a frightened rabbit with no place to run and wrapped his arms around her, tight, hugging her. Her body trembled in his arms, stiff at first, then as he continued his embrace, softening and relaxing until she actually leaned her head on his shoulder. Dirk’s hands traced circles on her back, while his cheek rubbed back and forth across the silky top of her head. She might be tall, but he was still taller. “I’m all right now,” came her muffled voice. “Are you sure, princess? ‘Cause I can hug you all day if you’d like.” To his surprise, she actually let out a small laugh. “You would, wouldn’t you?” She peeked up at him, her face looking soft. “Shh, just don’t tell anyone what a big softie I am, it’ll ruin my reputation,” he said with a grin and a wink that she giggled at. By God, she is cute when she does that, he thought, determined to make her giggle more in the future. And oh yes, she’d be in his future if he had anything to say about it. Marissa might present a cold, bitchy facade to the world, but he’d come to the realization that was all it was—a facade. One that hid a sweet woman he was determined to draw out. “Come on, let’s sit down,” he said, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her down onto the sofa, right onto his lap. Marissa squirmed a bit on his lap, ill at ease, obviously not used to this kind of cuddling. He, on the other hand, quite enjoyed having her there, although his pants were getting kind of snug. He might have to take them off if she kept squirming like that. Screw it. Once he’d talked with her, he was taking them off anyway. He didn’t question his sudden need to claim her again. Hearing she hadn’t been with any other man in a carnal sense in seven years made

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him feel like the man. Oh yeah, I melted the ice princess, and she’s all mine! “Start talking, princess.” “What do you want me to say?” Marissa shrugged, looking down at her lap, kneading her fingers together. Dirk frowned. He didn’t like seeing her like this. Uncertain and lost. Time to bring back her fire, and he had a feeling he knew exactly where to find it. “How about the fact you were married? I get the feeling all this Domme stuff started around then?” “I was married. We got divorced. I had anger issues and needed money. I found hitting men made me feel better, and I got paid for it. End of story.” Dirk restrained an urge to laugh at her simplified telling of what must have been a devastating time for her. For he doubted the story was as simple as she made it sound. Had there been another woman? Had she loved this jerk? He knew about doing things for money. He’d gone to jail for some of the things he’d done. “I know you must be totally disgusted with me right now,” she continued in a small voice, wringing her hands. “Why?” he asked, puzzled. “Because of what I do, or should say did. You’re right. I am no better than a prostitute, I guess.” “Princess, if you heard some of tales of things I’ve done in my life, you’d run screaming the other way. Hell, you heard some of them last night, and I didn’t see you running. That’s what friends do. They accept each other.” Arching her brow, she said, “Being fuck buddies doesn’t make us friends.” Dirk grinned, the vulgar words coming from his usually prim princess making him hot. “You say fuck buddies, I say lovers, either way I’d say that makes us friends. You might present an icy veneer to the world, but I think deep down inside, you’re looking for acceptance.” “Am not,” she retorted. “Tell you what, if you won’t judge me for my past, then I won’t

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judge you for yours. I can’t say as I’m unhappy that you’re gonna give up beating men for money, that is kind out of my comfort zone, that and I don’t like to share. You gotta promise me, though, that you’ll wear some leather for me some time. I bet you look hot in it.” Dirk enjoyed the pink that suffused her cheeks at his remark. He had a hard time reconciling his prim and proper princess with a whip-wielding, leather-clad mistress. He chuckled when she wouldn’t answer him and finally gave in to the temptation to kiss her. “Now,” he said when she had that dreamy look on her face and her lips looked bee stung. “Who’s been threatening you?” “No one,” she said, lying badly. An ex-con knew. “Princess,” he said in a warning tone. “Fine. I got two notes telling me to stop or else.” “Or else what?” he prodded, his body tensing up with the urge to hunt down her enemy and beat him. “I don’t know. It’s not like they said ‘or else I’ll sabotage your car and try to kill you.’” “Have you talked to the cops?” Dirk couldn’t believe he said that, considering his experience with them. “Of course not.” She snorted. “Oh yes, that would have been fun. Hi, Officer, someone is threatening me because I like to beat men for a living. I’d have been laughed out the precinct.” “You do have a point,” said Dirk grudgingly. “Any idea who’s doing this?” “Not a clue. I figure it has to be someone close to one of my clients, but who?” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about. I’ll fire an e-mail off to my clients tonight and let them know I’m retiring. That should take care of it.” “Stop acting so blasé. You could have been killed. What if they don’t care if you’ve quit and decide to come after you again?” A thought that chilled Dirk to the bone. How can I protect her? “Oh please. They wanted to scare me away and it worked. They’re just lucky I was getting tired of doing this anyway, or I’d have told them screw their threats and kept on going.”

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Dirk rubbed his shaven head in frustration, the short bristle attesting to a day without the razor taken to it. “I don’t think you’re taking this seriously enough. I want you to spend the night at my place tonight.” “No,” she said, pushing off his lap and standing before him with arms crossed. “I am not some damsel in distress who needs rescuing. I’ll be sleeping here tonight, alone,” she said firmly. “Well then, I guess I’ll be sleeping here then.” “What about the boys?” she asked. Shit, the boys. His babysitter would be wanting to go home real soon. “This isn’t over,” he said, wagging his finger at her. “Why are you doing this?” “This is what couples do. Help each other.” “We are not a couple. We’re just fuck buddies, remember? This isn’t your fight. I’ll figure something out.” “Oh please, princess. You’re the one who seems to think we’re just fuck friends. Truth is we are so beyond that. I care about you whether you like it or not.” “How can you when I’ve been such a bitch?” “Maybe I have masochistic tendencies,” he said, leering at her. A ghost of a smile teased her lips. “You? Oh please. You are way too dominant for that. Why do you want to be with me? I’m not the right woman for you. You should choose someone less damaged.” “I don’t want anyone else,” he murmured, staring into her eyes. His large hand cupped the back of her head, fingers entangled in her dark strands of hair, pulling her face down so he could whisper against her lips. “I want you.” Then he kissed her. All thoughts of relieving the babysitter, actually all coherent thought left him and all that was left was Marissa. His melting princess, in his arms and opening her mouth wide against his. Holding her, he backed up until the back of his knees hit the couch. He tugged her loose pants down; they pooled around her feet, and she stepped out of them. Her hands fumbled at the buckle on his belt, and he helped her loosen it, unsnapping his jeans and pushing them down. His erection reared forth,

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hungrily seeking. He sat down on the couch and pulled her toward him, legs astride to straddle him. Marissa needed no further coaxing; with a sigh she impaled herself on him, a sweet sensation that had Dirk throwing his head back in ecstasy at the feel of her tight sheath. With his hands on her buttocks, he moved her on him, establishing a rhythm as his lips devoured hers. She opened her mouth and met his tongue in an eager, wet duel. She mewled against his lips as she rubbed herself on him, grinding her bottom into his pelvis, taking him so deep. Dirk shuddered at the pleasure, his desire a raging fire, one he fought to control until he felt her climax with a gushing heat around his cock. The wet spasms pushed him over the edge, and he heard himself bellow as he found his release inside of her. Hearts pounding, they sat entwined, silent. “I’ll come over after the boys go to bed,” she whispered. Dirk just grinned in her hair where she couldn’t see.

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Chapter Eleven Marissa woke at the crack of dawn and eased out from under Dirk’s heavy arm. Quietly dressing, she left before anyone awoke, the dirty secret sneaking off. But it had been well worth it, as her pleasantly sore body could attest to. What a lover! Her redneck sure knew how to please a woman and he’d done so numerous times the night before. Hot, sweaty and sticky, Marissa found herself feeling content and yes, a bit smug, like the cat who’d gotten into the cream. She’d definitely been creamed royally. She fled across the dewy front lawn to her house, gaze darting from side to side on the lookout. Too wired to sleep, she switched on her laptop and started sending out e-mails to her clients, keeping her decision to quit simple and true to form. In other words, she blamed them. Worm! Your mistress has tired of you, pathetic person, and has moved on to more satisfying conquests. Do not contact me again. Clicking “send,” she grinned, wondering what their reaction would be. Dismay for the most part, she was sure. She’d been quite good at what she did. Calling in sick to work again after looking in the mirror—her bruise had turned into a god-awful multi-colored splotch she wanted no one to see—she puttered around her house, often distracted by thoughts of Dirk. Do not get emotionally attached to him, she admonished herself. He’s got a great body and he’s a fantastic lover. And that’s all he is. No matter what he says about being friends and caring, remember, it can never go any further. Just

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enjoy the sex while you can. But warning herself and actually feeling it were two different things, she realized when her heart started pumping faster when she heard a loud thump at her front door. Smoothing down her hair, she forced herself to walk slowly to the door, surprised he hadn’t started pounding it as he usually liked to. Opening it, she stuttered out a half a hello before she realized no one was there. How odd. About to slam the door shut, she caught a glimpse of something at her feet. Looking down, Marissa felt a shiver run down her spine as she noted one of her prize azaleas, uprooted from her backyard, on her front step, a note stuck in its leaves. Scooping up the note, she glanced around to see if anybody might be watching, but her street seemed empty of life. The after-work crowd wasn’t yet home. With trembling fingers, she opened the missive and swayed when she read the contents. Bitch. Did you really think I’d let you go that easily? This still isn’t over. Hope your will is up to date. Shaking at the threat, a threat that made her break out into a cold sweat, she slammed the door shut, then bolted it. Running through her house, momentarily caught in a panic, she checked every lock on every door and window, even going so far as to pull down shades and close curtains, protecting herself from prying eyes that might even now be watching her. In the grips of fear, a fear she’d scoffed at the day before when talking to Dirk, she sank into a corner of her bedroom, shaking. She’d honestly thought that by quitting her work as a domina, she would halt the threat. The note clearly said otherwise. Someone wanted her dead. There could be no other interpretation. Marissa shoved a fist in her mouth, trying to hold back the scream that trembled there. Oh God, what am I going to do? Where can I hide? *****

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Dirk whistled all the way home from work, happy he’d be seeing his boys and excited about the fact that his princess would probably be paying him another visit tonight. Arrogant, but after the night of loving they’d indulged in, well, he knew he was the man. Talk about explosive sex. That woman had more sizzle in one little finger than most women had in their whole bodies. She gave herself to lovemaking with an abandon that made his heart stop and the blood rush to his cock. She became so beautiful and free when she let loose, it made him ache to see it again, and again… Oh God, the boys’ bedtime can’t come soon enough. Pulling into his driveway, he glanced next door and crinkled his face in puzzlement when he saw Marissa had all her drapes and blinds drawn. He’d never seen her do that before. Maybe she was hoping he’d come over and had a surprise planned. Damn, he really needed to find a babysitter for the evenings so that they could maybe go out for dinner or a movie or something before jumping into the sack. And, he thought with a grin, once we get back to her place, I can make her scream instead of making her hold it in so as to not wake the boys. Dirk had little time to enjoy this erotic thought, as two little hurricanes came whipping out the door and threw themselves on him. Hugging them, he went to spend some quality time with his boys, pushing aside thoughts of his princess until later. A few hours later, the boys settled down to sleep, he waited for her to come over. Fifteen minutes, then half an hour went by. Perhaps she didn’t realize he wanted to see her. She’d slipped out before he’d woken and could ask her. Surely she still felt the same carnal need he did. Grabbing the phone, he decided to call her only to realize he’d never gotten her number. He’d have to rectify that; in the meantime, he’d have to go visit in person. Baby monitor in hand, he sauntered over to knock on her front door, stopping before the top step, foot hovering over a dark splotch. What’s this? Crouching in the darkness, he clenched his jaw at the sight of one of Marissa’s plants lying in a mangled heap. Her assailant had returned. Shit!

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Dirk pounded on the door, the lack of lights in the house sending an icy chill through him. Please let her be all right. I should have never left her alone. The house stayed silent as a tomb. Dirk pounded harder to no response. “Marissa!” he shouted, uncaring of the neighbors. “If you’re in there, open up. It’s me. Come on, princess.” At the continued silence, Dirk prepared to kick in the door, bringing back a booted foot, only to halt it when the door opened a crack. “I’m fine,” came her morose voice. “Just go away.” “You are not fine,” he said, pushing in the door, which she made no attempt to block. Body taut with tension, he stopped when he saw her. Gone was the cold, proud woman he’d met, and in her place stood a hunched, red-eyed shadow. Hating that look, and hating even more the fact he hadn’t been here to protect her from it, he grabbed her to him, hugging her tight. “It’s all right, princess. No one’s going to hurt you. I won’t let them.” Her shoulders shook, and his shirt dampened where her face pressed against him, as she cried silently. Her quiet misery struck a blow to his emotional psyche. I failed her. Sweeping her up and carrying her outside, he slammed her door shut behind them before he carried her back to his house. He didn’t let her go once inside, just carried her straight to the big plaid chair, sitting down with her cradled in his lap. She clung to him desperately, not in desire, but relief and fear. A fact that made him angry. How dare someone do this to her? ***** Dirk rocked her in his lap as she sobbed, until finally her body stopped shaking and she lay still in his arms. Marissa felt so embarrassed. She’d completely fallen apart like some weak female.

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“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asked softly. “Not really,” she replied huskily, her throat raw. She clung to the warmth and strength in his arms, for the first time in hours not feeling so dreadfully alone—and scared. “You’re not hurt?” Not physically, she thought, yet. “No. I’m sorry for being such a mess. I thought—I thought—” she stuttered, the tears choking her. “That once I told them I was done being a pro Domme, that it would all go away. That this person, whoever he or she is, would leave me alone.” “I take it by the plant I saw they didn’t.” “N-no. They left me a note too. And—and—” Marissa tried to go on, but the fear rose in her, claiming her voice, making her unable to speak. Instead she pulled out the wadded piece of paper from her sweater pocket and handed it to him. Watching his face as he read it, a grim look with darkening eyes, Marissa shivered. Feeling it, he hugged her tight. “No one’s going to hurt you. I promise you that.” “But how?” she said, despair lacing her tone. “You can’t be with me twenty-four hours a day.” “You’re staying here tonight. I’ll figure something out for tomorrow. Come on, you need to go to bed. You look like shit.” “Gee, thanks. That’s just what a girl wants to hear,” she said dryly, a little spark of her usual self sallying forth. Of course, he was right, she did look like crap. She’d spent the last couple of hours in a manic state. Definitely not her finest hour. “Hey, you are still the hottest babe around,” he said, kissing her lightly on the lips. “But like anybody would be in this situation, you are mentally exhausted and not thinking clearly. I’m going to put you to bed and I’ll join you in a little bit. I’ve got some phone calls to make.” “You won’t tell anyone what I did?” Marissa asked in a panic. “That is our little secret. Nope, I’ve got an idea on how to keep you safe until this person either gets tired of threatening you or we can catch them.” “What are you planning to do?” she asked suspiciously.

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“Me?” he said, eyes wide in mock innocence. “Nothing. Now come on and be a good little girl.” Marissa didn’t rise to the little girl bait and allowed him to carry her upstairs and nestle her into his bed, a bed that smelled comfortingly of him. Leaning down, he kissed her on the forehead, a gentle, sweet caress that brought tears to her eyes. “Shh princess. Everything is going to be all right. Sleep. I’ll be up in a bit.” Marissa couldn’t sleep, though. What am I going to do? This person stalking me is obviously deranged. I know I should go to the cops, but. . . The shame and stigma frightened her just as much as her assailant did. And as for Dirk, sweet as his bold claim to protect her had been, what could he really do? He had to work, and Marissa couldn’t hide out at his place forever. What if her stalker decided to attack her here? What if the boys got hurt? Marissa couldn’t live with herself if that happened. She cared too much. A fact that didn’t bother her as much as it should. She couldn’t put them in danger. She’d have to deal with this somehow. Try and make her enemy realize that she wasn’t a threat anymore. That she was done with her former career. But how to make contact? Feigning sleep when Dirk came to bed, she waited until his breathing evened out. Easing out from the arm that hugged her, she stared down at him wistfully. If only she were a different person, a better person. Much as she longed to jump back in his bed and stay cuddled in his embrace, she couldn’t with a clear conscience involve him in her mess. With shaky hands, she crossed his dark lawn to her own home and crept silently like a thief inside. Everything was as it should be, but her home felt alien. Full of shadows and possible menace, her sweet haven was no longer a refuge. Grabbing her biggest knife from the kitchen, she huddled in her bed, eyes darting nervously at every sound and shadow until finally, exhausted, she fell asleep. The next day, there was no pounding at the door, just Dirk

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suddenly looming in her bedroom at the ungodly hour of, she squinted, six a.m. “Why did you leave me last night?” he asked, six foot something of male muscle bristling. “This isn’t your problem. I don’t want to drag you into this. What if you or the boys got hurt? I’ll deal with this.” “Are you saying you don’t think I can protect you?” “No,” said Marissa, sitting up slowly in bed, leaving the knife hidden under the covers. “I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to. This person is deranged. What if us being involved makes them target you or the boys instead?” Dirk’s face darkened, his brows beetling together. “No one’s going to touch my boys. Or you either,” he said flatly. Marissa sighed. Her redneck was a true alpha male. And she had to admit to herself, she found that hot. But she needed to make him leave. It’s for his own good. “Well, I don’t need your help. And while the sex was great, I’m over it now. The challenge is gone. So you might as well go. It’s over.” “Is that a dare?” he asked, coming to sit on the side of the bed and tugging the cover down. She snatched it from his hands with a glare and pulled it back up. Stupid stubborn redneck. He laughed. “Oh please. I know every inch of your body now, princess, intimately,” he said, yanking the sheet back and leaning in to place a kiss on each of her rosy nipples visible through her thin gown. As he did so, they immediately hardened into nubs. He chuckled and nipped one before leaning back. “I don’t believe you. I know you still want me. I think this is your misguided way of trying to protect me. Nice try, but I am not leaving. Now I don’t care if we do this kicking and screaming or peacefully, but you are coming with me.” “Where?” she asked suspiciously. “You know I have to go to work.” “It’s a surprise,” he said, grinning. “Tell them you’re taking the rest of the week off.” Marissa already had, not that she’d tell him that. Her head still

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throbbed lightly and the bruise had turned a beautiful yellow-green last night, and to be honest, hours of paperwork did not sound appealing in her mentally wrecked state. “I hate surprises,” she lied. She’d actually never really gotten a surprise and found herself more intrigued than she wanted to admit. “There’s my ice princess,” he said, grinning at her. She frowned back at him out of habit and watched as he opened her closet. He turned around and looked at her incredulously. “Do you know you clothes are perfectly spaced and divided by color in here?” “So what?” she said, squirming back under the covers. “I like my stuff organized. Who’s watching the boys?” she asked, taking his mind off the fact she had a few obsessive-compulsive neuroses. “The boys are sleeping, but they’ll be coming with us. And Andy’s supposed to arrive any minute for the keys to the garage.” Marissa felt imbued in warmth, even a little giddy. He wanted to spend time with her and the boys. Then reality set in. He wasn’t doing this because he loved her and wanted them to be a family; he was just protecting them. “You know what, why don’t you go shower, while I pack for you. The boys are still sleeping,” he said, patting the baby monitor on his hip. “So I’ve got a few minutes.” “You can’t pack for me,” she said, trying to get out of bed while not showing any flesh. Stupid, as he’d seen every inch of her. “Women need things. And just how long are we going for?” “If I had my way, you’d be naked the entire trip.” Marissa actually gaped at him, and her redneck chuckled. “But where we’re going that would probably be frowned upon. Go on, get in that shower before I start thinking you’re just tempting me for some morning nookie. On second thought, let’s have a quick romp first. It’s been more than twenty-four hours since I’ve had you, and I don’t know if I’ll survive if I don’t get some soon.” Marissa blushed but then ran pell-mell from her room to hop in the shower. As she soaped herself under the hot water, her hand trailing languorously across her breasts and puckered nipples, she started hoping

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he’d join her. But alas, she finished her shower alone, and horny. Coming out encased in a white terrycloth robe and rubbing her still wet hair, she found him zipping up a suitcase. His smoky eyes appraised her glistening skin, and feeling mischievous—and still very aroused—she dropped the robe to the floor. “Hand me some panties, would you?” she said coyly, tilting a hip and resting a hand on it. Dirk’s eyes glazed over, and she thought she heard him growl before he took the few steps that separated them. He grabbed her and fell with her on the bed. Marissa squirmed under his body. “Now is not the time,” she said tauntingly. “The boys are going to wake anytime, and I need to get ready.” She pushed at him with her hands, halfheartedly; after all, he’d done exactly as she wanted. Now if he’d just get naked... He grabbed her hands in his and pulled them above her head, trapping them in a meaty fist. He leaned back and eyed her naked body, one corner of his lip curling up when he noticed her nipples pucker under his perusal. Marissa caught her breath and struggled to free her arms, suddenly feeling vulnerable, an unfamiliar emotion for her. One that had her trembling and wet. But Dirk held her hands tight and leaned down, fanning his warm breath across her sensitive nubs. He let the bristle on his chin rub across them, a pleasurable friction that had her moaning and arching. “Suck them,” she gasped. He just smiled enigmatically at her and shook his head. He blew on her taut nubs and flicked the tip of his tongue against one. Marissa pulled at her trapped hands, the coiling warmth in her body making her frantic. But he held her down, submissive to his whims, and dripping wet between her legs. Taking pity on her—or unable to resist—he finally took her breast into his mouth, laving and twirling his tongue, before giving her nipple a hard suck. Marissa bucked. Her legs were spread wide beneath his body, but his jeans were in the way. The coarse fabric rubbed against her, and

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she began to pant in need. “You drive me wild, princess,” he said in a low growl before finally letting her hands go to unbuckle his pants. Opening them just enough to free his swollen member, he grabbed her by the thighs and plunged inside of her. Marissa’s back bowed, and she let out a loud moan. God that feels so good, she thought before losing herself in the mindless maelstrom that was making love to Dirk. He pounded her willing flesh, his hard body slapping up against hers, his strong hands holding her thighs up off the bed so as to plunge as deeply as possible inside. Marissa’s hands scrabbled at the sheets as she approached that brink; then she shrieked as she crossed it, her flesh pulsating around his as he bellowed and went rigid inside her. Collapsing beside her, he drew her in close to his body and she leaned her head on his chest, listening to the frantic sound of his heart. The sudden sound of high, piping voices in her house had them suddenly scrabbling, Dirk to do up his pants and Marissa looking for her robe. They managed it just in time before the two dynamos burst into her bedchamber. “Andy said you’d be over here,” Avery stated. Mason smiled at Marissa. “Hi, Mari. Your hair is messy.” Marissa blushed, then wished for the earth to open up and swallow her as Andy sauntered into her previously sanctified room. “Sorry, these guys are fast. I couldn’t catch ‘em before they got here. Hope they didn’t interrupt too soon.” He winked at her with her a knowing smile. Marissa opened her mouth to give him an icy earful, but Dirk stepped in front of her. “All right, everyone, let’s get out of here and let Marissa get dressed.” With a grin over his shoulder at her, Dirk ushered their audience out and left Marissa alone. Marissa shook her head. I guess if I’m going to stay involved with Dirk, I’d better get used to a lot less privacy. Scary! After much hubbub on the part of the boys, they were finally on their way. A way that seemed to involve a lot of abrupt turning.

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“What are you doing?” she asked. “It looks like you’re backtracking.” “I am. I want to make sure no one follows us.” Marissa went cold. Surely he didn’t think her stalker would go so far? But judging by the way he kept checking his mirrors, he did. Marissa said not a word and just let him drive, anxiously watching her own side mirror for any cars that seemed to be following them. Just like the movies, she thought, but much scarier now that she played the main role. After an hour of circles, he finally got on the highway and drove for only a little bit before pulling off at an exit outside the city. “Are we already there?” Dirk looked over at her with a smile. “Not quite. But I’m famished. We were so busy getting ready to leave this morning that we skipped breakfast.” Dirk parked the car in the lot of a greasy spoon that’s main claim to fame seemed to be all day breakfasts. While there were a few cars parked, Marissa noticed that for the most part, the clientele seemed to drive big rigs. Great, a whole restaurant full of rednecks. Walking into the grease-filled air of the vinyl and Formica-decor diner, she revised that to include big-bellied cowboys and ruddy-faced lumberjacks. The powerful aroma of sizzling bacon, oil-fried potatoes and very strong coffee assailed her along with the unmistakable scent of unwashed men. I can’t eat here, she thought, appalled, as Dirk led her to a dented table in a corner with bench seating. The boys scooted in with Dirk beside Avery, and Marissa, with a cringe at the possibly germ-ridden seat, slid in beside Mason. She kept her hands in her lap, eyeing the Formica table with dismay. Coffee stains, jam and crumbs. Marissa wished hard for some rubber gloves, a bottle of Lysol and a rag. Did these people have no notions of cleanliness? A frazzled-looking waitress in a faded and stained pink apron sauntered over, her mouth working furiously on a piece of gum. She whipped out menus like Frisbees and told them she’d be right back to take their orders. Marissa leaned forward and whispered. “You can’t seriously mean

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to eat here?” “Why ever not?” he asked, arching a brow and opening his menu. “Look at this place. The grease and calories alone in one of their home fries is a heart attack waiting to happen. Not to mention, I think the Health Department has forgotten to visit this place in a while.” Dirk shook his head at her. “The place is a little rundown, I’ll grant you, but the food is fantastic. As for counting calories and all that, I say, why? We’re all going to die of something or other eventually. With that said, life is too short to deny oneself the simple pleasures. Come on, live a little, princess. Will it kill you to try?” Marissa just glared at him. She did not intend to get food poisoning, so when the waitress returned she just handed back the menu. “Sorry, I’m not hungry right now.” Dirk just shook his head at her and ordered the hungry man’s breakfast and two servings of pancakes, along with a coffee for himself and apple juice for the boys. When the food arrived, the steam still rising from the plates, an appalled Marissa felt her stomach gurgle. The odors wafting across the table smelled divine. She could feel the saliva in her mouth build as Dirk dug into the three poached eggs, crisp pieces of bacon, browned sausages, golden home fries and buttered toast. As for the boys, she eyed their pancakes dripped in butter and syrup, a sweet treat that she longed to grab and stuff in her own mouth. Oh my God, what’s happening to me? I don’t want this food. It’s bad for me. So why can’t I stop imagining how it would taste? Dirk must have seen the longing on her face, for he held out his fork with a nicely browned home fry. “Try it,” he urged. Marissa shook her head. He waved the fork with the tempting morsel closer. “Come on, princess, live a little. Open up.” Against her will, Marissa found her lips parting, an invitation Dirk did not waste, popping the crunchy, flavorful potato in her mouth. Marissa chewed, her eyes half closed in pleasure. Cooked to perfection in butter and some herbs, the little tidbit he fed her made her taste buds

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explode, and she opened her eyes and stared hungrily at his plate. This time he offered her a piece of bacon, which she grasped between two fingers. She crunched this forbidden delight and even licked her fingers at the end. Dirk kept feeding her and Marissa kept opening her mouth until the boys broke the spell. “Why are feeding Mari like a baby, Daddy?” asked Avery. Marissa blushed and clamped her lips shut, leaning back on the bench. Caught sinning. But surprisingly enough, she felt no regret, only an urge for more. Dirk wisely said nothing, simply signaling the waitress and paying for their meal before ushering them back out to the car. Once they’d gotten back on the highway, Marissa couldn’t contain her curiosity anymore. “Are you going to tell me where we’re headed now?” Dirk chuckled. “Now that we’ve gotten away from civilization, I think I can safely do so. We’re going to my mom’s.” Marissa took a moment to digest this, then punched him on the arm, hard. “Are you completely out of your mind?” she hissed. “What? You needed to get away while this person who’s stalking you cools off, and the boys need to visit Grandma, so why not?” “You can’t take me to your mom’s.” He looked at her questioningly. “Why not?” She threw a furtive look at the boys watching their video in the back, then leaned in to whisper. “Because you don’t bring your fuck friends to meet your mom, that’s why.” Dirk’s face darkened at her words, and Marissa wondered, with a touch of misery, if he had just caught on to the faux pas he was making. Funny, though, if we were actually dating and looking to be together as a real couple, I’d be ecstatic about going to meet his mom. But they weren’t a couple, and this was such a bad idea. *****

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Dirk didn’t like the way she kept referring to them as fuck friends. Sure he’d thrown that at her when he’d been trying to keep her from freaking out, but surely she realized by now that what they shared was something more. Heck, he kept telling her, why did she keep refusing to see? Did she only see him as good lay? Didn’t she want something more? She seemed to really like the boys and, he dared hope, even him. Even her nickname of “redneck” for him seemed to come out affectionately now instead of as an insult. Looking sideways at her, he noted her icy demeanor as she stared out the window, only a slight tic in her cheek betraying her agitation. Surely the ice princess wasn’t that bothered by the idea of meeting his mom? Didn’t she understand what an honor he was paying her? He didn’t just bring anybody home with him. Well, it’s not as if you told her that, reminded his conscience. But she should know him better than that by now. Dirk thought about telling her, but decided to let her realize it for herself. Part of her problem lay with trust. She had to learn to trust him. He could say whatever he wanted to her; until she learned to believe and trust in him, his words would be meaningless. Actions speak louder than words, so he intended to show her how he felt. Bringing her home to meet his family and protect her would be the first step. He just hoped she didn’t bolt when she met them all.

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Chapter Twelve They pulled up in front of a large farmhouse with peeling paint and a huge wraparound porch. Marissa got out of the car slowly and looked around. Welcome to the country, she thought, seeing the vast fields all around and yes, in the distance, even cows. Behind the house to the right stood a large, weather-beaten barn and various other outbuildings. Marissa put her hands on her hips and turned to face Dirk, who of course grinned like a buffoon. “You brought me to a farm?” she almost screeched. “Yeah, it’s where my parents live.” “But I’m a city girl. I don’t do the outdoors and animals and this,” she said, sweeping her arm out to encompass the land surrounding them. “No one said you had to milk the cows—yet.” He laughed when she mouthed a dirty word at him so the kids wouldn’t hear. The boys got of the car whooping and ran up the steps into the house. “Come on, princess,” said Dirk, coming over and trying to put an arm around her, one she shrugged off to glare at him. “Think of it as an adventure.” “Great, I leave a psycho stalker so I can probably get killed by a stampeding cow or rabid chicken.” Dirk howled and thus missed the woman coming out the house who looked at Marissa with curiosity, wiping her hands on a stained apron.

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“Diedrik, baby. Come give your mama a hug!” said the red-cheeked woman holding out her arms. Marissa almost giggled. So Dirk was short for Diedrik, a Swedish name, as she seemed to recall. Dirk winced and went to the woman, hugging her soundly. “Hi, Ma. Thanks for letting us come for a visit. The boys have missed you.” “Och, the boys always miss their nana. And who is this you’ve brought with you?” “Ma, I’d like you to meet Marissa Masters. Marissa, this is my mother, Ana White.” “A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. White,” said Marissa politely. “Och, don’t call me Mrs., call me Ma like everyone else around here, or if you don’t feel comfy with that, Ana. Now come on in, I’ve got a fresh pot of coffee on and cookies in the oven. Pa will be home just before supper, and then we’ll have ourselves a nice family dinner.” Marissa would have bolted if she could—she felt like she’d gotten caught in some bizarre alternate world where the Waltons still prevailed. Dirk, sensing her hesitance, grasped her hand and tugged her after him. Marissa went along begrudgingly—somehow, being dragged didn’t seem very dignified. How could she escape this unfolding disaster? ***** Dirk could see Marissa retreating behind her icy façade—her method of coping, he’d noted, for situations that made her ill at ease. His mom’s house would probably give Marissa nightmares. While a wonderful cook, his mom had little time for things like dusting, for as she said, “Why bother, it just comes back.” She also liked to collect knickknacks with no rhyme or reason, and these items were scattered around the house haphazardly, a disorganized chaos that would either make Marissa less neurotic—or send her to the loony bin. Dirk now wondered if he’d made the right decision in bringing her here. Their relationship—and dammit, it was a relationship no matter

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what she called it—was still so new. Her un-thawing incomplete. Would he undo all the work he’d accomplished? He ushered her into his family home, holding back a wince seeing the peeling wallpaper and scratched wood floors. He loved this place. He’d grown up here along with his brothers and sister. To him every rip, scratch and dent had a story. But how would Marissa see it? Dirk realized he felt shame, and that pissed him off a little. He had nothing to be ashamed about. So the place wasn’t a showpiece; it had love and character and best of all, warm memories. Until he’d screwed up and broke his mother’s heart. This wasn’t the time to remember the past, though. He’d turned a new leaf. The house that he’d not appreciated in his youth now seemed a veritable castle to him, built on love, hard work and second chances. And if Marissa was too stuck up to understand and appreciate it, well, then he’d just have to make her see it. ***** Marissa walked in gingerly, the old wood porch creaking under her feet. Please don’t collapse now, she prayed. She could see Dirk’s jaw tighten, his face blank as if lost in thought, not a pleasant one judging by the hard gleam in his eye. With his hand on the small of her back, she entered his childhood home and stopped. Chaos, utter, disordered chaos. Yet even in the midst of the disaster, Marissa didn’t panic, for oddly enough there was a comforting feel to the mess. Like Dirk’s home, this place screamed lived in, but at the same time it managed to convey family. No, not just family—love. From the pictures of kids ranging in age from baby to adult, to the plaques commemorating achievements, to faded artwork brought home from school, this home presented itself like a scrapbook of a family. Marissa, while feeling out of her depth, found herself fascinated as she shuffled from picture to picture, easily recognizing Dirk—with hair—in many of the portraits. Here he sat with a mischievous smile in a plaid blazer and slicked-back hair for a school photo. There he ran, football in hand, dog chasing after him. She followed this timeline that

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jumped back and forth, intrigued. A voice at her elbow startled her. “My Diedrik, such a good athlete he was. Always a big boy like his father.” “How many children do you have? Dirk’s never said.” “I have three boys and one girl. You’ll meet them all, since Diedrik says you’ll be staying until at least the weekend. Come, I have made you and Diedrik a room. I will show it to you.” “What? Oh, no,” said Marissa, blushing. “We won’t be sharing a room. We’re just friends. It wouldn’t be right.” Ana’s lips quirked and her eyes twinkled. “Friends? Very well, then I will put you instead in my daughter’s old room. The boys can bunk with Diedrik instead. Give me a moment and I will switch things around,” Ana said before hurrying up the stairs. Dirk whispered in her ear. “What did you do that for?” Marissa arched a brow at him. “It wouldn’t have been right. This is your parents’ house. We can’t just—just—” “Fuck like bunnies? Do the wild thing?” Marissa punched him in the arm and glared. “You are such a pig.” “Hey, I tried to call it lovemaking and you got mad. So I’m going to keep trying out words until you finally find one you like, princess.” “Dirk,” Marissa screeched to his retreating backside—a very nice backside—but he ignored her and went through a swinging door to another room in the house. Alone, Marissa weighed her options. The front door was right behind her, she could escape and… Do what? Run for the hills? Hotwire his car? Since she couldn’t beat him—yet—the only option left involved joining him. Sighing, she followed after him, and Marissa found herself in a huge kitchen where the smells of a roast wafted. She also found the boys munching on cookies. Dirk helped himself to a couple from a chipped jar and waved some at her. “Want one?” he mumbled through a mouthful. “Homemade.” Marissa declined and wandered over to the large window instead that looked over the backyard. A colorful panorama greeted her, the bright blooms of a chaotic flower garden meshed with the more practical

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greens of a vegetable garden. Crushed stone paths meandered through the jungle, bordered by fruit trees heavy with plump treats like apples, pears, cherries and even yellow plums. “Does your mom grow all her produce?” she asked, turning, only to find herself staring at Dirk’s black T-shirted chest, a chest she suddenly longed to run her hands across. “Yup. She cans the excess for the winter. She makes the tastiest strawberry jam you’ve ever tasted.” Looking up at Dirk’s face, soft with remembrance, Marissa thought the jam wasn’t the only tasty thing his mother had ever made. Grabbing her by the hand, Dirk dragged her to a door that led outside. “Come on, I want to show you my hideout.” A scrabbling of chairs signaled the boys joining them. They ran past Dirk and Marissa into the jungle garden whooping and hollering, a noise that no longer seemed as catastrophic to her senses. Dirk held her hand as they walked through the garden and past the bordering trees into an apple orchard. Gnarled limbs curled overhead while plump red fruit dangled, waiting to be picked. The boys dashed in and out of the trees, an impromptu game of tag filled with the joy and energy of youth. Dirk led her to an old maple tree in the center of the orchard with a wide trunk. Nailed into its barks were wooden rungs, weathered with age, but still solid judging by Dirk’s use of them to clamber up into the wide-spreading branches. “Come on up,” she heard him say hidden above her in the foliage. Marissa looked at the tree dubiously and then eyed her feet clad in sensible, brown suede loafers. The boys needed no extra encouragement and climbed up, even little Mason, to her heart-stopping shock. The three boys called to her. “Come on, Mari. You can do it.” Taking a deep breath and rising to their challenge—and encouragement—Marissa grabbed a rung and began to climb. She worried about falling, the rungs suddenly collapsing, but in no time she’d made it, emerging through a hole in a plank floor to find herself in a tree fort. Marissa turned around in the larger than expected space. The fort

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had weathered wooden plank walls and a peaked roof tall enough to allow her to stand. Little porthole windows covered in Plexiglass looked out into the tree itself, and all over the walls old and new posters of superheroes, girls in bikinis and cars added a spot of color. A true boys’ paradise. The boys peered out of the makeshift windows while Dirk grinned. “How do you like my hideaway?” “I’d say it suits you,” Marissa replied dryly, her lips quirking a little in amusement. “I’m surprised you don’t have one at your new place yet.” “No trees big enough,” he replied. “But don’t worry. I’ll think of something. All boys need a secret hideout.” “To hide from what?” she asked, curious. “Mothers wielding wooden spoons, for one,” he said wryly, rubbing his posterior. Marissa couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of her. “That’s better,” he said. “I was beginning to wonder when you’d laugh again. You should do it more often. It suits you.” Marissa blushed—an annoying habit around him. “Come on, I want to show you other stuff,” Dirk said with the eagerness of a child showing off his playthings. They climbed back down into the orchard, the boys whooping ahead. Then, holding her by the hand again, Dirk dragged her around the farm, showing her everything that he thought special from rocks to trees, to a cow called Betsy. Her redneck was a true farm boy at heart, and during that afternoon of discovery, Marissa found herself laughing more than once. A bell ringing in the distance saw the boys racing back to the house. “Dinnertime,” Dirk explained. Entering the house through a different door that led to a mudroom, they washed up for dinner, because as the boys pointedly told their father, “It’s good manners.” Marissa secretly smiled. They’d remembered! Dinner smelled heavenly, and with all the fresh air and exercise,

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Marissa found herself digging into the hearty meal consisting of a still-pink-in-the-middle roast beef, golden oven-baked potatoes, thick brown gravy—sinful but yummy—a medley of vegetables and an even greater sinful delight, Yorkshires. Marissa devoured this feast and told her healthy conscience to take a backseat. After all, she didn’t want to offend Dirk’s mother, who’d obviously spent some time creating this culinary delight. Her conscience smirked at her. Okay, so I’m eating it because it tastes so good. She met during the course of the meal Dirk’s father, a giant of a man with only wispy tufts of hair on top but a full gray and white beard with mustache. A hearty fellow, he joked often with his grandsons and teased Dirk with dry comments. With Marissa he was polite, but she could see the curiosity in his eyes, and she had to wonder what Dirk had told them about her. Dirk’s mother bustled around beaming, her hair wisping around a face flushed from the heat in the kitchen. Marissa lost count of the number of times she popped up and down from her seat and wondered how Ana ever managed to eat. After a dessert of fresh apple pie smothered in whipped cream, which Ana just placed in front of her, Marissa felt like unbuttoning her slacks and sighing. She hadn’t been this full in ages. Dirk felt no shame, and he leaned back in his seat and let out a big sigh and rubbed his belly. “That was fantastic, Ma.” Ana just laughed and cleared dishes away. Marissa jumped up and began carting dirty dishes to the kitchen where—gasp—Dirk’s mother washed them by hand in the big double sink. Marissa loved her dishwasher, and would eat off paper plates before she’d even think of parting with it. But as a guest... Marissa held back a sigh and grabbed a towel to dry. “So where did you meet my Dirk?” asked the matron, scrubbing with brisk efficiency. “We’re neighbors,” Marissa answered, not sure how much Dirk had told his mother.

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“Aah, that neighbor,” replied his mother with a chuckle. Marissa flushed. Looks like Dirk has talked about me. “Yes, well, if he told you about the mishap where we met, I guess you could say we initially got off on the wrong foot.” “Sometimes my Dirk can be big and brash. And loud. Very loud. But at heart he is a good boy.” “Yes, he is a good man.” “You like my son?” asked Ana, not looking at Marissa, but washing the dishes efficiently. Marissa paused, unsure how to answer this blunt question, and finally settled on honesty. “I like him but I don’t think I’m right for him.” “When I met my Frederick, I didn’t think he was right for me so I treated him very aloofly. I didn’t trust him because he was too handsome and the ladies loved him. But my dear Freddy, he did not let my barbs sting him. He courted me till I finally realized he was the one.” “But how did you know?” Marissa asked. “I thought I found it once, but I was very wrong.” “Sometimes you have to trust,” said Ana sagely. “It is worse, I think, to be too afraid to try than to believe and perhaps find what your heart and soul need.” Marissa was saved from replying by Dirk sticking his head in, announcing Marissa was needed to tuck the boys in. After she’d read the boys a story about pirates—apparently she’d become their new favorite story-time person—Dirk cornered her. “I want to show you something,” he said with a seductive smile. Marissa for one naughty, thrilling moment thought he meant to show her the inside of his pants, but instead he brought her out to the front porch to a two-seater rocker that creaked alarmingly when sat on. He draped an arm across her shoulders, making her stiffen for a second; then she relaxed into his embrace. Why fight it when I want him to touch me? “Look up,” Dirk said quietly, pointing to the night sky. Marissa looked up and gaped at the spectral view. Thousands of stars glittered overhead, a diamond masterpiece she’d never seen in the

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city. “Wow,” she breathed. “There’s so many.” As soon as she said it she wanted to kick herself for sounding so cliché. Dirk chuckled. “Yes, there are. I love this view. Sometimes if you’re lucky you even get to see a shooting star.” “Did you ever wish on them?” she asked impulsively. “All the time. When I was young for stupid things like more money and girls. But recently I’ve asked for more important things.” “Like?” Marissa asked. “Health for my boys. Staying on the side of right and away from stupid.” “Stupid how?” she prompted. Who is this man who seems so rough around the edges but has a heart of gold? “I guess it’s only fair I give you the full, unedited version of my sordid past. I warn you, though, some of it is not pretty.” “Hey, you didn’t run when you found out about my second job. And I already know you did time, so shock away.” Marissa listened intently as Dirk began his tale. ***** Dirk wondered where to start. About to paint himself in a bad light, he dreaded her possible reaction—rejection—but if she was going to be involved with him, he needed to be honest with her. “I was the youngest and the most trouble for my parents. A know-it-all, slacker, you name it, I did it.” Oh yes he had. Sixteen and determined not be a farmer like his pa—too much work—he got in with the wrong crowd. At the time, though, he’d thought he was hot shit. Leather jacket, babes, smokes and booze. He and his pals were the cool kids in high school. The bad boys who made girls cream their panties. Then he turned eighteen and graduated high school. His dad quickly lost patience with his late nights of partying and tried to put him to work. He still vividly remembered the fight that got him thrown out.

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“What you going to do with your life, son? You can’t party all the time.” “Why not? Beats working my ass off on a farm, for what?” Dirk had said in his youthful ignorance. “This crappy old house?” His red-faced father had replied in a low voice, “This crappy old house has been good enough for this family for three generations now. You think you’re too good for it, then get out.” And Dirk, hot headed and stupid, had left, despite his mother’s tears. He knew better—or so he’d thought. He and a bunch of the guys rented an old garage and made it their hangout. But a bunch of guys who couldn’t keep a job still needed cash. And that’s when he got really stupid. Some of the boys started growing weed out in some abandoned fields. Dirk became a go-between, taking the finished product to suppliers. Easy work that left him plenty of time to party and to screw his new girlfriend, who thought his bad boy act was the hottest thing since maple syrup on pancakes. During this time he barely saw his parents, and when he did he was usually drunk or high, such a model son. The kids came along in this messed-up time of his life. Avery’s early years were a blur for Dirk, and as for Mason, by the time he was born, Dirk had gone to the big house. Caught in a sting operation, he confessed enough to get his sentence reduced, but he kept a lot back. Snitches had a tendency to have unpleasant accidents. When the bars slammed shut behind him, he finally woke up and cringed at the mess he’d made of his life. He’d begged his mother not to bring the boys to visit, because of course with him gone, Clara had decided the family life wasn’t for her and dumped them. But his mother ignored his pleas and showed up faithfully each Sunday for visiting. Mason, still a baby in swaddling, didn’t understand, but wise-beyond-his-years Avery had looked at him and Dirk had felt such shame. He’d let the boys—his boys—down. That needed to change. Dirk set out to better himself. Being in jail had forced him to quit cold turkey, and with much shaking and sweating, the drugs and alcohol that he’d let rule his life lost their hold on his body and mind. He took courses offered

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in the slammer, automotive repair ones as he’d always had a knack for that, and with the warden’s help got his credits. His sentence was thankfully light, two years minus one day, and he counted those days as he worked on bettering himself in anticipation of his release. He was determined to give his boys the life they deserved. During his rehabilitation, two people remained conspicuously absent—his father and his common-law wife, Clara. His father, understandably enough, was mad, and Dirk couldn’t blame him. He’d been the worst of sons. He had a lot of apologizing to do once he got out. As for Clara. Well, she’d found greener pastures. She’d run off with one of his biker buddies who hadn’t been caught in the raid, dumping the boys onto his poor mother without a look back. Dirk wanted to hate her, but all he could feel was sorrow. Clara lacked the ability to be independent so she had abandoned her children and her lover, unable to cope. And his poor boys, motherless—not that they’d known much of a mother’s love, as Clara had always been more concerned about Clara than anyone else—spent two years with grandparents. When he finished his story in a low voice, he finally looked at Marissa, waiting to see the recrimination in her eyes, but to his surprise her eyes glistened, and she hugged him tightly. “What’s that for?” he asked, hugging her back. Any excuse to touch Marissa was a good one. “Oh, for telling me and for managing to turn your life around. It must have been hard, but look at you now. Owner of a business with two amazing boys who adore you. Looks like the bad apple turned out all right after all.” Dirk chuckled. “I guess I did. And they say old dogs can’t learn new tricks. What about you? Any more secrets you’d like to share?” Marissa stiffened a little against him and drew back, her face a shuttered window. “I’d say my pro Domme activities are secret enough.” Her contrived laughter sounded brittle, and she shivered. Dirk though about pressing her. She obviously hid something still. But instead, he decided to give her time.

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To his surprise, though, she spoke, almost in a whisper. ***** Marissa hadn’t meant to tell him about herself. She guarded her painful secrets closely, but after his frank unburdening, she felt she owed him something. “My parents were both lawyers, and as such led busy lives. So busy at times they forgot they had me. They weren’t bad parents, really, they just weren’t there.” Marissa swallowed, still remembering in painful flashes the special events and moments in her life where both of her parents had failed to show. Sometimes they’d remember later and with apologies and gifts promised it wouldn’t happen again. Until the next time, when they again had a memory lapse. But Marissa learned early on not to rely on them. It made the pain of them forgetting easier to bear. Marissa met Tom, her ex-husband, through her parents when they invited their newest associate home for a celebratory dinner. Marissa, in college at the time, had found herself intrigued by the young man who seemed so interested in what she had to say. Not to mention the attention her parents finally gave her as she dated a lawyer they approved of, who, as they said, “was going places.” Dirk held her in his arms as she spoke, his cheek resting across the top of her hair. “I loved him, and I thought he loved me too. But I had an”—Marissa swallowed as she skirted the whole truth—”operation and went into a depression. He told me to take all the time I needed to heal, but he lied. He came home one day and told me it was over. He’d met someone else, and she was pregnant. I didn’t get a second chance. He just left me all alone. And that’s when I got angry.” “So you turned to pro Domming?” “Not immediately. I tried seeing a shrink first, but that didn’t work out.” “You don’t by any chance have this asshole Tom’s address?” Dirk asked tightly. “Why?” asked Marissa, craning her head.

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“Because I want to ram his head into a wall for being such an idiot.” Marissa laughed. “Yeah, I’ve had similar fantasies involving him and bodily harm. But what’s the point? He didn’t love me,” she finished with a sad whisper. Dirk hugged her tight, then tilted her chin to give her a sweet kiss that made tears cling to her lashes. “You are worthy of being loved,” Dirk said softly against her lips. Marissa shuddered. Not if you knew the truth. Dirk felt the tremor and stood up from the swing, pulling her up along with him. “Come on—let’s go in before you catch a chill.” When they got upstairs, tiptoeing like guilty children so as to not wake the household, he hugged her in his arms and kissed her breathless. “I don’t suppose you’ll invite me in?” he whispered in her ear before nibbling it. Marissa felt tempted too. She wanted him with a frightening intensity, but her sense of propriety wouldn’t let her say yes. She shook her head softly in answer. With a tender kiss that made Marissa ache in her heart instead of her groin, he left her at the bedroom door. Marissa went to bed with thoughts of Dirk, her sweet reformed redneck, running through her head. His past, instead of making her want to push him away, made her feel... Marissa wasn’t ready to examine her true feelings for him yet. She’d stick to lust for now, and even respect for what he’d accomplished, but anything more, she couldn’t contemplate—yet. Even his reaction to her partial revelation made her heart beat faster. He seemed so accepting. Marissa wondered what he’d say if she told him the whole truth. About how she was less than a woman. But what if he pushed her away? And what if he doesn’t? replied her mind softly. God, I’m so confused.

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Chapter Thirteen The following morning Marissa woke groggily to a knee in the stomach and squealing. Wincing, she cracked open one eye to see Mason bouncing on her excitedly. “Mari! Mari!” he squealed. “Me get eggs.” “Hunh?” she squinted, her brain not yet functioning without its morning caffeine jolt. “Come,” Mason said, tugging down the covers. “Help me.” Marissa, still not sure what Mason wanted, sat up in bed, yawning. She peered at her watch and gasped. “Mason, it’s the crack of dawn.” But being a child, he seemed oblivious to this fact and started bouncing again. “Eggs! Come on, Mari.” Marissa’s fuddled brain finally put two and two together. “You want me to help you go get eggs?” Mason nodded eagerly. “But I don’t know where the store is.” Mason giggled. “No store, silly. Chickens!” Marissa just looked at Mason stupidly. What did chickens... Oh. Marissa felt a little flutter of panic. “We need to get the eggs from the chickens?” Mason grinned happily at her. “My turn,” he said, puffing out his little chest.

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“Why doesn’t your dad help you?” she asked, trying to weasel out. Mason’s face crumpled. “You no help me?” he said sadly. Marissa sighed as Mason pulled a guilt trip on her with the mastery of a pro. Damn cute little bugger. “Okay, let me get dressed first,” she said, getting out of bed and digging through her bag. What did one wear to pick eggs? Definitely shoes she could wash, she thought, yanking out her rubber flip-flops. Shooing Mason out of the room for a sec while she changed into some clothes, she tied her hair back in a ponytail and took a deep breath before setting out on an egg-hunting expedition. She only hoped she survived. ***** Dirk heard the scream all the way in the house where he leaned against the kitchen counter bugging his mom for tidbits of bacon, which she kept him away from with a wooden spoon, an old game of theirs. At the piercing shriek, though, Dirk ran from the house to his mom’s amused chuckle and his dad’s snort. He ran into Mason bolting from the chicken coop. “Daddy,” he panted, jumping up and down and pointing. “Mari stuck. Chicken eat her.” Dirk didn’t bother puzzling over this odd message; he took off again with long-legged strides to the coop, ducking inside and letting his eyes adjust to the dimness. When he did, he had to restrain a chuckle—not an easy task—for he finally figured out Mason’s message. Marissa stood pushed as far back as she could get in the corner, her face a mask of terror, her feet hopping up and down trying to escape—and here he did let out a little chuckle that he disguised as a cough—baby chicks that were pecking at her sparkling toes, peeking out from her sandals. “Help,” Marissa screamed, seeing him. “They’re going to eat me,” she sobbed. “Um, princess, look at your toes. No blood. They’re picking off the jewels in your nail polish.”

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“What?” Her head dropped to look, just as a little chick darted its little head down and plucked a shiny gem from her toe. He saw her cringe, then relax as it finally dawned on her that the chicks weren’t actually hurting her. The look on her face finally made Dirk laugh. Big belly guffaws that turned into snorts as she stalked over to him and slugged him right in the gut. Dirk laughed louder and wrapped his arms around her. “Oh, princess,” he said, almost in tears. “You are priceless.” “It’s not funny,” she pouted with a glare meant to freeze him. “You are so bloody cute, you know that?” He looked at her tenderly. When she continued to glare, he kissed her, his hard lips meeting her soft ones. She held her body rigid in his arms at first, but as he deepened the kiss, he felt her relax until her arms twined around his neck and she kissed him back. “Ewww!” announced a voice behind them. “They’re kissing,” Avery said with disgust followed by Mason saying, “I wanna kiss Mari. My turn, Daddy.” Dirk let go of her reluctantly, the soft look on her face so tempting. Little hands pried them apart. Looking down, he saw Mason wedge himself between them and hold up his arms to Marissa. “Me too,” he begged. Marissa, still with a dazed look on her face, scooped him up and allowed him to plant a big wet kiss on her cheek and hug her. Dirk wiped the drool off her face and grinned when she mouthed thank you. He had to admit she was getting better, though. She hadn’t even shuddered that time. Funny, though, how in the bedroom she lost her ick-aphobia. Of course, he hadn’t tried to decorate her with a pearl necklace—yet. Down, boy, he chastised himself, feeling all the blood rush to his groin. Later; for now he needed to help Marissa and the boys grab some eggs before his mom ended up in the coop with her wooden spoon, asking what the hell was taking them so long. *****

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One greasy, yet absolutely delicious breakfast later, which Marissa ate this time with no coaxing from Dirk and almost no self-recrimination, she leaned back with a smile and resisted the urge to pat her tummy. She watched Dirk joking with the kids and felt her lips curve in a smile. So domestic a scene, and she liked it. No, make that loved it. She hadn’t felt this alive and content in a long time. That feeling stayed throughout the day as Dirk dragged her around the farm, showing her more things and helping out with some of the chores that always needed tending. Marissa got dirty and rumpled, and instead of running for the nearest hand sanitizer and spray cleaner, she laughed and played and joked. They spent another evening on the porch looking at the stars, talking about everything. Well, almost everything. Marissa still held close the secret of her barrenness, but everything else from her first boyfriend to her unpopularity in high school they discussed. Marissa surprised herself at her openness with him. Fuck friends aren’t supposed to talk about deep issues, but Dirk seemed genuinely interested in getting to know her, and she obliged, feeling a closeness to him that she’d never felt with anyone, even her ex. Once again, when hours later they decided they needed to sleep, he gave her a sweet kiss at the bedroom door, one that curled her toes and made her eyes mist a little. So much tenderness he gave her in that embrace, Marissa felt confused—and horny. He made her want so many things, all of them involving him. Things she’d thought she didn’t need anymore, things she suddenly realized she did. The next few days were filled with discovery and little time alone, as either the children or his parents always seemed to be around. She even met most of his siblings when they came to dinner—a raucous family affair that left Dirk red faced a few times when his siblings relayed all his guilty childhood secrets. Marissa enjoyed herself heartily, laughing so hard her cheeks hurt. Marissa and Ana didn’t have any more deep discussions on relationships, although Ana did keep throwing out strong hints about how Dirk would make a smart girl very happy. Something Marissa

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already knew. She even began to dream a little of the life she could have with him, filled with love and family. And passion. A passion they hadn’t been able to indulge in since they’d arrived, which left her aching and, judging by his smoldering looks, left him frustrated too. And this was what made Marissa realize they were definitely more than fuck friends. They had a relationship based on more than just sex, but friendship too. But it would all end when he found out her secret and left her for another woman who could give him what she couldn’t.

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Chapter Fourteen Marissa ducked out of the chicken coop with her basket full of eggs, a triumphant smile on her face. She’d done it all by herself! And she hadn’t even screamed, not even when one of the hens, annoyed at being disturbed, had nipped at her fingers. Shutting the coop entrance, she heard the crunching of gravel behind her. Marissa whirled around to say hello, but stopped when faced by a stranger. The woman who eyed her looked beautiful in a rough, rocker chick kind of way. She had long wispy blonde hair, kohled eyes, a tight black tank top and curve-hugging, faded jeans. The blonde eyed Marissa up and down, making her feel self-conscious, which pissed her off. So, arching a perfectly manicured brow, Marissa said in a cold tone, “Can I help you?” The blonde rudely answered with a question. “Who are you?” “A guest. I believe Mrs. White is up at the house. Do you need me to show you the way?” The blonde tittered. “I know my way fine. Actually, I was looking for Dirk. Have you seen him?” A shiver ran down her spine, like someone walked on her grave. Looking more closely at the blonde, she noticed the similarity between the boys and this woman, who had to be their mother. Clara had returned. “Dirk’s around here somewhere,” Marissa answered vaguely,

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moroseness clutching her heart. “I can’t wait to see him,” gushed the blonde. “It’s been so long. We had a bit of a misunderstanding, you see.” “You abandoned your boys and him when he went to prison. I’d hardly call that a misunderstanding,” said Marissa dryly. Clara shot Marissa a dirty look. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you can keep your damned opinions to yourself. He’ll forgive me. He always does. He’s never been able to resist me,” Clara said slyly. “So, if I were you, I’d shove off. You know what that they say, two’s company, three’s a crowd.” Before Marissa could retort, Dirk came striding across the yard. Clara saw him at the same moment and bounded across the yard. She threw herself at him, wrapping her legs around his waist. An impressive feat considering the tightness of her pants. Marissa hoped they split even as she felt her heart crack. How can I compete with Clara, the mother of his children? I can’t. Turing her back on the reunited duo, Marissa slipped away behind the barn, heading for the woods. Maybe she’d find some more raspberries—and a quiet place to shed the tears brimming in her eyes. She heard Dirk calling her name, but she ignored him, walking faster instead, unseeing and blinded by her own stupidity. Dumb. So dumb. She’d done the one thing she’d sworn never to do. Fall in love. Oh yes, much as she’d fought it, she couldn’t deny it. She loved her big stupid redneck and his boys. Damn it. I knew better. I knew it would never last. And having seen the beautiful Clara, Marissa wondered how she could have ever thought she could compete. Big arms wrapped around her from behind, crushing her to a solid chest. “Let me go,” Marissa cried, struggling. “No,” he replied in a determined voice. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you running away?” “I’m not. I was going to pick raspberries,” Marissa said, fighting to control her voice and the tears, but one wet drop escaped her and splashed on his hand.

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“What the hell?” she heard him exclaim. She dropped her head, trying to hide her moist eyes as he turned her around in his arms. But once again, his strength won out, as he held her with one hand and used his free one to tilt her chin up to look at her. “Why are you crying?” he asked softly. “Am not,” Marissa said stubbornly, lips quivering. He wiped a tear from her lashes with his thumb, looking at it with tight lips and narrowed eyes. “What did she say?” he asked grimly. “Nothing,” Marissa lied. “Let me guess, she told you to shove off because she was back or something to that effect.” Marissa nodded slightly. Dirk sighed and tilted his head to the sky. “Oh for Pete’s sake, princess. You don’t honestly believe just because she came flouncing back asking for forgiveness, I’d suddenly forget what you and I have and go back to her, do you?” Marissa, feeling sheepish at hearing it so boldly stated, just nodded again, not trusting herself to speak. “What Clara and I had is over. Dead. Gone and buried. You couldn’t pay me money to get back with her.” “But she’s the mother of your boys,” said Marissa. “Boys she willfully abandoned. Do you know she’s never once contacted them or tried to see them since she left almost three years ago? Let me ask you, does that sound like a mother to you?” “No,” said Marissa, appalled. She’d never leave a child of her blood. Hell, she’d almost reached the point now where they’d need the jaws of life to separate her from Dirk’s boys. “I don’t know what she thinks she’s up to, but I guarantee you one thing, it changes nothing about how I feel about you.” Marissa wanted to ask how he felt, but Avery came yelling “Daddy!” across the yard. “Mason’s crying. Come quick!” Dirk muttered a curse and, holding her hand, tugged her along behind him as they both raced back to the house. They came into view of Clara, hands on her hips confronting a crying Mason.

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“I’m your mother. So stop your wailing and hug me,” Clara demanded. “No!” cried Mason. Mason spotted Dirk and Marissa and ran to them, little legs pumping. To Marissa’s surprise it was her legs he wrapped himself around, not Dirk’s. Feeling his little body heaving with emotion, she scooped him up in her arms. Mason threw his arms around her neck and buried his face in her shoulder. “Don’ let her take me, Mari,” he hiccupped in her ear. “I won’t, little guy,” Marissa whispered back, incensed at Clara’s behavior. Clara stalked over to them, an ugly look on her face. “Well, isn’t this a pretty picture,” she drawled sarcastically. “Only one problem: I’m their mother.” Avery, who had stood silently watching beside Dirk, spoke. “You left.” His calm statement made the color drain from Clara’s face. “But I had to,” she sputtered. “I’m back now, though. We can be a family again. Wouldn’t you like that?” “No,” said Dirk. “I’m sorry, Clara, but that’s not going to happen.” “They’re my children,” Clara said, her eyes stormy and mean. “If I want them back, then I’ll get them back.” Mason let out a wail against Marissa’s neck, and she hugged him tighter. Ooh, if only I had my whip here right now, Marissa thought, I’d teach this bitch a thing or two about scaring little children. Just then Dirk’s mother came out on the front porch, wiping her hands on her apron. She took one assessing look and announced, “I have fresh cookies and coffee. Why don’t you all come inside?” “I think Clara was just leaving,” stated Dirk, an emotionless look on his face. However, Marissa could tell his anger simmered close to the surface. “Actually, cookies and coffee sound great,” said Clara brightly, and with a swing of her hips, she sauntered into the house like she belonged. Dirk sighed and rubbed his hand over his bald pate. “Daddy,” said Avery in a little voice. “Is she going to take us

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away?” Dirk dropped in a crouch and crushed Avery’s little body to his chest in a big hug. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” Or me, thought Marissa, hugging Mason tight. ***** Inside, the boys snatched cookies from their Nana, and then hightailed it somewhere in the house, probably to hide. Marissa also scattered, saying Dirk needed to talk to Clara alone. Dirk dreaded the inevitable confrontation. He’d wondered the last couple of years what he’d do if Clara ever came back. Had even entertained the notion of getting back together with her, but seeing her again, he discovered something that surprised him. He felt nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. There was still a lot of anger, but no love, affection, hell, not even any lust. Looking at Clara as she sat at the kitchen table, legs crossed and munching on a cookie, he wondered what he’d ever seen in her. Dirk wasted no time. “What do you want, Clara?” “I want my family back,” Clara said with a smile. “We were never a family.” “Oh, Dirk,” she pouted prettily. “Don’t be so mean.” “Come on, get real. You left almost three years ago and never once tried to contact me or the boys. Now you come waltzing back, and all of a sudden you want us back. Are you out of your mind? What happened to Clements? He get busted too?” “We had a fight,” said Clara. “But I never loved him like I love you, Dirk. I’ve missed you and my babies.” “Really?” said Dirk, his tone mocking. “Could have fooled me. I don’t know what your game is, but it’s not going to happen. I’ve found someone else now, someone who’s good for me and the boys.” “That uptight stick? You’ve got to be kidding me.” “Marissa is a lady, something you wouldn’t understand.” And

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definitely not a stick, he thought, remembering her soft curves. “You can’t tell me you prefer that stuck-up bitch to me?” “What you call stuck-up bitch, I call manners and class. And yes, I do prefer Marissa. What you and I had wasn’t healthy for either of us. Look at what we did to our lives, to each other and the boys. I’ll always care for you, Clara, as the mother of my children, but I can’t be with you.” “But we belong together. Me, you and the boys. We’re family,” Clara repeated stubbornly. “Family doesn’t run when things get tough,” Dirk stated flatly. And he knew better now. Clara just wasn’t the type to stay in one place, not when greener pastures beckoned. “Yeah, well, let’s see if your precious lady wants to be with you after I tell her about your record. Wonder how much she’d like you once she knew you were a con.” “She already knows,” said Dirk, enjoying the shocked look on Clara’s face. “Now I think it’s time you left.” Clara seemed to deflate in her seat, and her shoulders slumped, but only for a moment, before she flounced out of the chair. “You’re making a mistake, Dirk. I could have made you and the boys happy. We could have even had more babies, a little girl maybe, wouldn’t you like that?” “I’d love a little girl, but I’d prefer a different mother. One who cares. Now go, Clara.” “Fine then,” Clara screeched. “I don’t need you anyways, and who wants to be tied down to some snotty-nosed kids.” Dirk winced, thankful the boys couldn’t hear the nasty words their mother flung in an attempt to hurt him, which also cemented his knowledge that he was making the right choice. “Have a good life, Clara, and don’t come back,” said Dirk with finality. With a dark look, Clara stalked out of the kitchen and out of Dirk’s life, hopefully for good. *****

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Marissa swung slowly on the porch swing. She would have loved to listen in on Dirk’s conversation with his ex, but she knew this was something he had to do on his own. The slamming of the screen porch door startled her, and she looked up to see a pissed-off-looking Clara come storming out. Marissa thought that Clara would just leave, but as her foot hit the last step, Clara turned around and spoke to Marissa. “You’d better take good care of my boys, bitch. He may have chosen you, but I’m still their mother.” Marissa said nothing, but she did feel like letting out a happy yell. He chose me? “And I’m warning you right now, you’d better not let any kids you and Dirk have push mine aside. My boys deserve a mother who will love them. I know I may not have been the best mother around. Hell, who am I kidding, I am a shitty mother, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care. And if I ever find out you’ve hurt my boys...” Marissa suddenly felt sorry for Clara as she stood there with raccoon eyes from running mascara. “I would never hurt the boys. And you don’t have to worry about me giving Dirk more kids. I can’t have any. Your boys would always have me one hundred percent.” Marissa’s statement seemed to stun Clara. “You can’t have kids? Does Dirk know?” Marissa shook her head. Her dreaded secret that would drive him away from her forever, and here she was telling Clara. “So you see, while I’d never hurt the boys and I would love them as my own, once Dirk finds out it’s not going to matter, is it?” I think you might be surprised,” said Clara thoughtfully. “Take care of my kids.” With those parting words, Clara sauntered over to a battered pickup truck and took off in a cloud of dust leaving, Marissa with troubled thoughts. Do I tell him? Clara seemed to suggest he wouldn’t care. But if I do, and he leaves? I don’t think I could stand going back to my sterile, frozen prison.

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Chapter Fifteen Leaving the boys behind for a few extra days, Dirk and Marissa headed home. They’d come to that decision last night after the Clara fiasco. “It’s time we got on with our lives. We’ll go back without the boys, make sure the coast is clear first,” Dirk said after asking his mother if she minded. Marissa agreed, still bemused by the fact Dirk had chosen her. But her secret left a shadow on her happiness. How long will I have him once he finds out I’m not whole? Marissa’s hand rested on his muscled thigh, rubbing the worn denim lightly. Dirk growled. “If you keep doing that, I am going to stop this car right now and take you on the side of the highway.” “Promise?” said Marissa teasingly. Actually she wasn’t really teasing—she wanted him inside her, claiming her. Making her feel whole. Dirk put on a burst of speed to Marissa’s laughter, but she behaved and kept her hands—and her dirty thoughts—to herself. For now. When they were a few minutes from the houses, Marissa slid her hand back onto his leg and boldly began rubbing the growing bulge at the front of his pants. With a squeal of tires Dirk slammed into the driveway and jumped out of the car. Marissa barely had time to get out before she was in his arms, his hard lips pressing against hers.

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Fumbling keys while keeping her lips locked to his, she unlocked the door, and they stumbled inside. Marissa expected a repeat of their first time on the wall in the entranceway, but Dirk had other ideas. Scooping her up in his big arms, he strode quickly to her bedroom and tossed her on the bed. Something crinkled underneath her and pushed at Dirk, who already covered her body. “There’s something under me,” she whispered in between kisses. “Hold on, let me move.” Marissa rolled on her side, and Dirk grabbed what hid beneath her and jumped off the bed, pacing “I take it you didn’t leave yourself a letter?” he said grimly, looking at the envelope he held. Marissa sat up, hugging her knees, a pit in the bottom of her stomach. “No. Open it.” Dirk tore the plain white envelope open and scanned the message inside. His face grew darker and darker. “That’s it. We need to do something about this.” Marissa grabbed the sheet from his hand and read the note. You’re ruining everything. It’s not over. He still wants you. But he won’t get you. I’ll make sure of that. With you gone he’ll be mine again. You may have run, bitch, but you can’t hide forever, and when you come back, I’ll be waiting. Marissa re-read the note as Dirk paced, ranting about the things he’d do to the bastard when he caught him. But Marissa suddenly had a light bulb go on. She jumped off the bed and went to her office to boot up her laptop. Dirk followed. “What are you doing?” “I think I can find out who this is.” She loaded her hotmail account for her pro Domme persona and scanned through the messages. All of them were from one person—one ex-submissive begging her to see him again. To beat him again. Everything came together. “I know who’s doing this,” Marissa said excitedly. “Who?” said Dirk, punching one fist into the palm of his other

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hand. “You can’t hurt this person.” “What? Why not, after everything he did to you?” “And what about what I did to her?” “It’s a girl!” Dirk’s brows shot up. “How am I supposed to beat up a girl?” Marissa laughed at the look on his face. “You’re not. But I think I have a plan,” she said, turning back to her laptop and replying to her sub’s last message setting up an appointment for that night. “Are you insane?” shouted Dirk, reading it. “You’ll get yourself killed?” “I hope not. Just trust me on this.” Marissa described her plan, and in the end he grudgingly accepted, but with one stipulation: he’d be on hand when she carried out her plan to free herself from her stalker. They sealed their deal with a kiss that turned into frantic lovemaking on the floor of her home office, his hard body pumping into hers as his eyes gazed into hers, mesmerizing her with their intensity. When he came deep inside her, he bellowed, “Marissa!” And Marissa hugged him hard, wishing she could bottle this moment up forever, knowing that after this was over, everything would change, for she’d decided sometime during the drive home it was time. Time to tell him her secret and explain why they couldn’t be together. Time to return to being the ice princess.

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Chapter Sixteen Marissa strutted out of her bedroom in her four-inch stilettos and smiled at the look on Dirk’s face as she pirouetted to show him her ensemble. Whistling, Dirk paced around her, the admiring look in his eyes as obvious as the bulge in his pants. “Holy shit, princess. You are one hot-looking Domme.” Marissa blushed again and looked down at herself. Skintight black leather pants, low hipped to show off her belly button with a pasted-on jewel, a tight leather corset that gave her shadowy cleavage, and ruby red lips, which she licked. Dirk groaned. “Oh God, when this over, we are coming back here and I am going to so enjoy peeling that outfit off you. Don’t you ever wear this out of my sight again. I don’t want any other men seeing how bloody hot you are.” Marissa shivered at his possessive tone. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, turning serious again. “We can still go to the cops and let them take care of it.” “No, this is my fault and I need to fix it. I just hope this works.” So many things could go wrong, but she had to try. They drove in almost silence to the motel, Dirk’s face tight, Marissa nervous. When they got there the lot sat empty, Marissa brought in her equipment bag and prepared herself mentally. Dirk prowled the room, his large presence comforting and

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arousing. This macho-guy routine is hot, Marissa thought, her loins coiling with heat even though her nerves were a wreck. A knock sounded and Dirk hustled into the bathroom, leaving the door open a crack. Marissa put on her mask before she answered and let her sub in. Accustomed to her methods, he immediately put himself in position on his hands and knees, his leather-masked head hanging down, awaiting punishment. But Marissa wouldn’t be the one doing the punishing tonight if all went well. Quicker than she would have expected, a knock came at the door. Her sub’s head started to come up, but Marissa tapped it with her crop, and he dropped it back down. “Come in,” Marissa called, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering madly in her stomach. Her stalker came in, ball cap pulled low and wearing a bulky jacket. However, those items barely registered, because Marissa found herself much more interested in the revolver pointed at her. Marissa raised her hands. “You don’t have to do this,” she said. Her stalker gave a shrill laugh. “How else am I to stop this—this—” Words failed her, and the gun, which had wavered a bit, became steady again, aimed right at Marissa’s heart. “It’s not me he wants,” said Marissa softly. “It punishment he craves. And you know what, Elizabeth?” Startled, her stalker jerked back as if slapped by the sound of her name. “How do you know who I am?” Elizabeth’s husband Harold—also known as Mr. Mayor—tried to lift his head again, but Marissa slapped it down. “Stay out of it,” Marissa snarled to him. “This is all your fault, and you will be made to pay for it.” Elizabeth’s eyes hardened into ice flecks at Marissa’s actions. “Don’t you touch him,” she warned, cocking the gun. “Trust me, I’d rather not,” said Marissa dryly. “So do us all a favor and take over, would you.” “Me? I— But—” Elizabeth looked blankly at the riding crop

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Marissa held out to her. “He needs to be punished, Elizabeth. And you need to do it. You can be his mistress, the deliverer of the pain and punishment he craves. Vent on him, I know you’re angry. Use it.” Elizabeth’s one hand reached out to curl around the crop as the one holding the gun dropped to her side. “How?” Elizabeth asked, as her husband trembled in what Marissa believed was excitement on the floor. Marissa taught Elizabeth how to dominate her husband—the name calling, the hitting, the humiliation he craved. When it was all over, Harold shuffled out to the car after hugging his wife and telling her he loved her. He also promised never to stray again from his true mistress, his wife. Elizabeth came over to Marissa with apology in her eyes. “I’m sorry. When I found out what he was doing, I was so angry. I wanted to hurt you.” Marissa could understand that emotion. She’d lived with anger herself for so long. “Everything is all right now. I take it I won’t be getting any nasty notes anymore?” Elizabeth looked sheepish. “I’m sorry about your car. I just meant to scare you.” “It’s okay. In a sense, I’m thankful. You made me wake up and realize this wasn’t what I wanted to do with life anymore. Now go. Keep him in line, and here, take this.” Marissa handed her the hockey bag full of tools she’d no longer need. “Are you sure?” “Very,” said Marissa. “I don’t need them anymore.” Marissa’s bottomless well of anger had dried up, finally, and it felt good to be relieved of that burden. With thanks, Elizabeth left, closing the door behind her. Immediately arms crushed Marissa from behind, and she found her lips devoured. When Dirk finally let her come up for air, he shook his head at her. “That was one of the most disturbing hours of my life. And was that who I

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think it was?” Marissa nodded. “Holy shit. The mayor.” Dirk laughed on and off as they drove home, shaking his head. “How did you know that would work?” he finally asked. “I didn’t,” replied Marissa. “Thank God it did, though, else I’d be in a lot of pain right now.” “Never,” said Dirk emphatically. “Don’t forget, I was there. I wouldn’t have failed you. I would never let someone hurt you.” Marissa couldn’t think of a reply to this, and so she stayed silent. She strutted up to her house in her heels, shaking her ass for his benefit, and found herself pushed up against the wall as soon as they got into the house. Dirk’s breath was uneven against her neck as he licked a trial down to her cleavage. “Dirk,” Marissa panted. “We need to talk.” “Not now,” he mumbled, trying to pull at her laces with his teeth. “Please, I need to tell you something.” “Later. My body needs to talk to yours first.” With his lips locked to hers, they stumbled into the living room and went no further. His hands tugged at her leather pants as he kissed her with a ferocious passion she returned. When he’d pushed her pants down far enough to reveal her thong—which he also yanked down—he spun her and placed a hand in the middle of her back. “Bend over,” he growled. Hot for him, she obeyed, pushing her bottom up into the air. He claimed her from behind, his thick cock pushing into her tight moistness, her legs tethered together by her pants, making it even more decadent. He pounded her hard and fast, his fingers finding and stroking her clit as he drove into her willing flesh. When he finally came inside her, Marissa let out a scream of pleasure. Limp, she didn’t protest when he sank onto the couch and pulled her into his lap. She clung to him tightly, desperately, knowing this was the last time.

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His rough hands tilted her chin up to face him, and his stared down at her with such emotion, Marissa felt her throat tighten. “I love you,” he declared. Marissa stiffened in his arms at the words she longed yet dreaded to hear. “You mustn’t,” she said, trying to put an icy edge to her reply, but her voice came out high, threaded with panic. Wiggling, she tried to escape his grasp, but he used his strength to pin her to the couch. His strong hands cupped her face, forcing her to face him. “I love you, princess. Come on, you can say it. I know you feel it too.” “I—uh—” She struggled both in body and spirit. She longed to scream the words, but she couldn’t. He deserved someone better than her. Someone who could give him what he deserved. “I can’t,” she sobbed. His body went stiff above hers. “Why? Dammit, I deserve to know why. You love me, I know you love me. Why can’t you admit? Why do you want to push me away?” “Because I’m not whole,” she screamed back, ugly tears rolling down her face. “I’m not a complete woman anymore. I had an early form of cancer. They took it all out. Everything. I can’t have children. Do you understand now? You deserve someone who can give you more kids. You’re a great dad, with so much love to share. I can’t punish you. It wouldn’t be fair.” “That fucking bastard!” Dirk shouted, jumping. “Where does he live?” “Who?” “Your fucking ex-husband, that’s fucking who. He’s the one who made you think you could never be with someone, isn’t he?” When Marissa didn’t answer, he shouted at her. “Isn’t he?” “It wasn’t his fault. He wanted children; I couldn’t give them to him. I wish he’d waited until we were completely divorced to get his girlfriend pregnant. Actually, waiting to get a girlfriend until he told me we were over would have been nice. But I can’t really blame him. No man

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wants a half woman.” Marissa turned her face from him as her voice broke and a fresh wave of tears flowed. Dirk swept her up into his arms. “The only thing you’re half of is the other side of my heart and soul. Dammit, Marissa, I don’t care if you can’t have babies. I kind of figured that out a while ago when I saw your scars and from some of the things you’ve said. Besides, I’ve already got two boys who love you already as a mother, and I’m pretty sure you feel the same way too.” Marissa answered woodenly. “You say that now, but then you’ll end up resenting me and hating me for not being whole, and you’ll find someone who can give you babies and leave me.” “Never,” he whispered, showering her with kisses. “Never ever, my sweet princess. Don’t you understand? I love you. As you are. I don’t need more children; I just need you. I want you there in the morning when I wake up horny. I want you there at night to snuggle. I want to be with you every moment of the day and when we get old and have a porch swing of our own. I love you, Marissa. Now tell me you love me too.” “I do love you. I do, I do,” she exclaimed. “But I’m so scared.” But God, she wanted to believe—to trust. Dirk, her precious redneck, looked down at her, his expression solemn. “Marissa Masters, I love you so much, it hurts. I love you the way you are. I don’t care if you can’t have kids. I don’t care if you like to beat men. Hell, I’ll even let you beat me if you promise to love me and do me the honor of marrying me.” Marissa caught her breath. Did she dare trust? Looking up into his eyes, eyes that shone with a love she’d never seen in anyone else’s, she took a plunge. “Yes. I will marry you. But,” she said with a saucy grin, “I promise not to beat you, unless you deserve it.” Dirk laughed and swooped her up in his arms, swinging her around in joyous abandon. Then he made love to her again. And then once more just for the hell of it.

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***** They married a month later, in his mother’s jungle of a garden. Avery served as best man and Mason as the ring bearer. The bride wore an off-white summer dress that by the end of the evening had several sticky hand marks, and wonders of all wonders, she didn’t even spray and wash them.

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Epilogue Almost a year later... Marissa snuggled closer to her husband. Almost a year since they’d married, and it still felt like every day was a honeymoon. Marissa had quit her job at the town clerk’s office—she’d hated it and everyone there anyways—and taken over the administration of Dirk’s garage, which under her capable hands now turned quite a nice profit. As a compromise, they’d both sold their homes and moved into a bigger family abode with plenty of garden space for her and tons of yard space for the boys, who grew quicker than any weeds she’d ever known. They also had a big tree that Dirk had already built a tree house in—the boys’ secret hideaway. No girls allowed, except for Marissa, of course. Happy didn’t even begin to explain her state of mind. The ice princess was a thing of the past—that is, unless a client tried to shirk paying the bill. Then the ice princess gave the customer a glacial stare that quickly had him or her pulling out a wallet. The best part about married life, though, had to be waking up beside her lusty husband. Marissa wiggled her bottom against Dirk, and he responded by the grabbing her and squeezing her close. “Someone’s happy to see me,” she whispered so they didn’t wake the boys. Dirk didn’t answer. Instead, she felt his lips on the back of her neck, nibbling on the sensitive spot he’d discovered there on their honeymoon.

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Marissa sighed and pushed back against the hardness that rubbed her backside. His calloused hand slid between her thighs, rubbing her clit until she moaned and arched against him. At this invitation, he guided himself inside of her. Wet and waiting, she clenched around him, their morning lovemaking better than any cup of coffee. Almost at the peak, she heard bells and faltered. What the hell? The sound didn’t repeat, and Marissa found her rhythm again, rocking back against him as he lifted her leg up to plunge even more deeply inside. Their climaxes hit almost at the same time, a pulsing heat that left her body flushed and her face smiling. She snuggled deeper into his arms, loving the closeness. A sound pierced the quiet morning air, a mewling cry that grew louder and louder. Giving each other puzzled looks, she and Dirk pulled on matching robes—the boys’ idea last Christmas—and padded down the stairs to the entrance hall and front door. The crying sound came louder, echoing all around them. Marissa found her heart racing unaccountably, and without waiting for Dirk, she pulled open the door and looked down. Oh my God. Lying on the front step, swaddled in a big bundle of blankets, was a scrunched-up red face. Marissa held her breath as she picked up the tiny bundle, which immediately stopped its screaming. Blue eyes looked into hers, and Marissa felt the world around her shift. “There’s a note,” she heard Dirk say from behind her. But Marissa ignored him and carried the baby inside, laying the bundle on the couch before unwrapping the blankets. The babe still stared at her with curiosity, a chubby fist flailing at Marissa as she inspected the foundling. As she counted toes and fingers, she heard the sound of ripping paper. “I don’t fucking believe this,” she heard Dirk exclaim. Hope fluttered in her breast as she waited for him to relay the contents. Dirk cleared his throat. “Sorry I missed the wedding. Hope the boys are well. This is Julia; consider her a late wedding gift. Please love her like you love the boys. All the best. Clara.”

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Marissa’s tears fell unchecked as she finally lifted the baby and hugged her to her chest. Oh please don’t let this be a dream. “She included something else,” said Dirk, holding up a piece of paper behind the baby’s head. Marissa looked at the piece of paper and said a silent thank you to Clara, for the document was a birth certificate. Julia Mary White, born on January seventeenth to mother Marissa Agnes Masters White and Diedrik Frederick White. Clara had made sure they wouldn’t get caught up in red tape trying to adopt. Marissa knew they’d still need to speak to a lawyer, but the fact remained Marissa had a daughter, and she’d move Heaven and earth to keep her. “I take it you’re all right with this?” Dirk asked Marissa, wrapping his solid arms around his wife and their new baby girl. Marissa, with tears in her eyes, could only nod. How can I not be all right? she thought as the boys wandered into the room rubbing sleepy eyes and joined the family hug. In this room is gathered my fantasy. A family of my own and all the love I’ll ever need to never be an ice princess again.

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Author Bio Eve Langlais is a Canadian in her mid-thirties who’s married with three children. She resides in a small town in Ontario where she works from home as a webmistress and customer service rep. She enjoys spending time with her family, playing Wii (Mario Galaxy II being the game of the moment), reading tawdry romance novels, and writing even naughtier ones. She claims her stories come from the voices clamoring inside her head. Discover what else her twisted mind has devised at http://www.evelanglais.com.

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