Love Me Times 3

LOVE ME TIMES THREE

Tonya Ramagos

EROTIC ROMANCE

Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK IMPRINT: Erotic Romance ABOUT THE E-BOOK VERSION: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to one LEGAL copy for your own personal use. It is ILLEGAL to send your copy to someone who did not pay for it. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. LOVE ME TIMES THREE Copyright © 2008 by Tonya Ramagos E-book ISBN: 1-60601-052-2 First E-book Publication: August 2008 Cover design by Jinger Heaston All cover art and logo copyright © 2008 by Siren Publishing, Inc. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. PUBLISHER Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

DEDICATION To my husband, who loves me times three without being under a spell.

LOVE ME TIMES THREE Tonya Ramagos Copyright © 2008

Chapter 1 Cayman Porter drew the leggy blonde into his arms and planted a kiss on her rosy lips that was sure to take her breath away. When he pulled back heartbeats later, he saw the desired effect in the glassiness of her eyes, the flushed glow in her cheeks. "Wow! You sure can kiss," she said in a voice gone low and totally seduced. "Thanks." Cayman's lips curved, affording her with a slow, sexy smile he practiced and designed to make the women swoon. He brushed his lips over the tip of her nose, moved to open the door. Her hand came up to cup the side of his face. "I love you." Uh-oh. Houston, we have a problem. Cayman heard the mental squeal as he threw on the brakes. Damn, and she had been so good in bed. Compliant and eager to please, responsive and skilled, and those lips, ah yes, she could do wonders with those shapely lips of hers. But alas, he couldn't keep her. Not now. He consoled himself with the fact that there were more where she came from as he coaxed her through the open door. "You better go, sweetheart. Early morning meeting, remember?" "Yeah," she sighed, stepping outside only to stop, turn back to him, a question in her eyes. "Call me tomorrow?"

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"Of course." He closed the door thinking no way would he call her tomorrow. Maybe in a couple of days. He wouldn't drop her like a hot potato. He would back off slowly. Call in a couple of days and apologize for being so busy, no time to get together. In another couple of days, or maybe a week after that, he would call again and give her one of those many relationship-ending clichés about it not working out between them or something to that effect. And in the meantime, he would find another longlegged blonde to occupy his bed, he thought as he turned from the door and froze. She stood bathed in a sea of white light. Her strawberry blond hair fell around an angelic face that left him bewildered and breathless. Her eyes, stunningly blue, shone with knowledge and intrigue. She wore a gown of vibrant colors fitted through the bust and tapered at the waist. The skirt flared and touched the floor where two gray cats sat curled at her feet on either side. Over the gown draped a cloak of falcon feathers and around her neck hung a necklace of amber and rubies. "She frightened you." The voice sounded both otherworldly and of this world, derisive and consoling. "Not as much as you are," Cayman admitted. "Who are you and how did you get into my living room?" Even as he asked the question he knew. She was Freya, the Goddess of Love. She didn't bother to reply, but said instead, "You were plotting to get rid of her. She professed her love for you. Is that not what you wish from your relationship?" "No. I don't want anything that serious." "Then why use your powers to bind her heart to you?" Cayman walked to the endtable where the bottle of beer he had opened after his bout with the blonde in his bed still sat. He picked it up, took a long pull. Though it had warmed in his absence, it went down fairly smooth. "It's not my fault she fell in love with me." "Ah, is it not? You have the powers to create your own reality, Cayman, and to make others know this reality. You also, of course, know all the spells and charms, the rituals to get what you want out of your magic. What you wanted was for that woman, as with so many others in the past, to give herself to you without reservation." Freya didn't walk. She glided as if her feet never touched the carpeted floor. Then again, maybe they didn't. A

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Goddess need only to levitate herself toward him, her cats close at her sides. "In short, my son, you used your powers and all you know to steal her heart and now you intend to break it." "You use that necklace," he tipped the beer bottle toward the amber and rubies that decorated her neck, "to make yourself irresistible to men. Since I do not possess ownership of such a talisman, I use words and form. What's the difference?" She bristled only slightly at the comparison. "My necklace makes me irresistible, yes, but does not steal unwilling hearts. Your words and form, as you call them, capture the heart." "She'll get over it." He shrugged, attempting to sound unconcerned when in truth the guilt started to rise like bile in his throat. Geez, he never felt guilty when ending a relationship! "Just as all of the others have gotten over it, over you?" Though it sounded like a question, she didn't wait for an answer. "You have left a very long trail of besotted women, my son. All of which professed their love for you, all of which you turned your back on nearly the moment those three words were out of the women's mouths. How many more hearts do you intend to break?" "I haven't found the right woman so far. That's important, isn't it? To find the one person who completes you?" Freya looked at him through long lashes. "Do not play to my romantic heart, Cayman. You may be a fine and powerful witch but you are also a womanizing toad." Cayman frowned. "I'm not a toad." That made her laugh and the sound was like the soft melody in a music box. "Then you agree you are a womanizer?" Cayman merely shrugged. It did him no good to evade the truth with a Goddess. Still, he bristled a bit. Okay, so maybe he could treat the women he dated better, not string them along quite as much. He could certainly get a date without using magic on a woman. The whole dating game simply turned out to be such a tedious process that he often got fed up with the time lag and used the magic and spells to speed it up a bit. Instead of spending several nights, weeks, hell, even months in some cases, wining and dining a woman before he got her in his bed, he could do it all in one night if he

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chose. If he enjoyed the woman's company in and out of bed, he kept her around. Until she pops out with the dreaded three. Women always ruin things by becoming emotionally attached, he thought. "That is because we are emotional creatures." Freya responded to his thought with only a hint of a disapproving look on her face. "And don't blame the women for your magical misjudgments. I have watched you perform many spells with the obvious outcome of love all but slapping you in the face. Even knowing that, it did not stop you." "I'm a man. I’m hardheaded, fearless, and think I know it all." Again she laughed. Good to know the Gods really do have a sense of humor, he thought, even if it did currently come at his expense. "You are also a master at saying what a woman likes to hear." "So, are you here because I've been a bad boy?" In trouble with the Gods, that could prove to be a very bad predicament. Goddess of Love or not, he knew Freya possessed a darker side. That side crowned her as the Goddess of War and Death as well. It wouldn't do to piss her off. "That would be one way to put it," she said, nodding, and moved closer until she invaded his personal space. He could feel his aura heating, crackling around him, changing to accommodate her power. It washed over him, bringing goose pimples to his skin even as sweat trickled down his spine. She stopped so close he felt the tails of her cats—who failed to move more than a few inches from her feet—brush the legs of his jogging pants. She lifted a hand to his face, grazed the backs of her silky smooth fingers across his forehead, over his temple, down his cheek. What the hell? He froze, unable to move, barely able to breath, to think. Geezus, was she coming on to him? He watched a slow smile curve her shapely lips, saw laughter rise in her spectacular eyes, and knew she read his thoughts. Her lips parted, but when he expected some sort of witty remark, she spoke a spell instead. "What was gifted to you from me and mine I take away so you may find A love so rich and heart so true That your womanizing days are through.

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Only a true love of equal part Will bring your powers back to heart. By the powers of me times three This is my will. So mote it be!" Her hand slowly dropped to her side and she took a step back. A thick silence fell between them as Cayman recovered his ability to breathe, to think, to feel his body beyond the fire her touch left burning just below the surface of his skin. He had a fucking hard-on, he realized when he shifted his weight on his feet. For crying out loud, Cayman, he thought. The woman is a deity, a freaking Goddess! She smirked and he knew again she read his mind. "You are an open book, Cayman." "Yeah, yeah. Stop doing that." He scowled. "Inventive spell." Inventive indeed, he realized as he felt the change her words wrought in him. Emptiness, a void, loss… "Thank you. You are a man, so I did my best to word it in terms you would understand." "Oh, you are a funny one." She laughed, a quick burst of melodic sound that was as arousing as it was beautiful. "I can be." "So what exactly did you just do to me?" "Maybe not simple enough," she muttered and smiled innocently when Cayman shot her a look. "Okay. I'll stop. In short, I made it so you can no longer use your magical abilities to get women." "You took away my powers." "Not took away as much as altered them for a time." "And if I try?" Cayman asked slowly, almost afraid to hear her answer. She simply gave him a sly grin. "I would not try if I were you." "What will happen to me if I do?" Freya sighed. "As you are so insistent to know, I am quite sure you will find out the hard way." "So you put a curse on me."

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"Of a sort, I suppose." "What was that business about a true love of equal part?" "That is the only way to restore your powers. There is a woman out there for you, one who will love you without spell being cast or any magical manipulation. When you find her and you both reach the point of equal love…" "You will give me my powers back." "She will restore them for you." "So she's a witch." "I did not say that." "If she isn't a witch, how will she know what spell to do, the words to say?" "She will know." Cayman stared at the Goddess for a long moment, anger simmering in his veins. He liked the way his life was going. Why did she have to interfere? "Because I can," she said. "Oh, now you're getting snooty," he scoffed. "And I told you to stop that." "Hmm, let me put this in more colloquial terms. Have you ever heard of karma, Cayman?" "Of course. What we do to others comes back on us threefold." She arched a brow and gazed at him, a twinkle in her eyes. "Harm none. It is but our only law." She disappeared, power, heavy on the air and slowly fading, the only indication she was ever there. "Why couldn't you have at least told me who she is?" Cayman asked the air. The answer came to him like a thought in Freya's sweet, musical voice. You will know, my son. When you find her, you will know. "You can go now," Cayman said through clenched teeth. He heard her laughter in his head and it slowly faded away. **** Laughter rolled under the closed door to Cayman Porter's office and Alexis London froze, her hand poised to knock. Her heart thrummed in her

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chest even as butterflies of desire took flight in her belly. She let her hand fall, silently cursing herself for finding that laugh so tantalizing, so arousing. Ugh! She didn't want to do this. Not again. The last time she'd been assigned to work with Cayman had been a test of every ounce of willpower and resolve she possessed. It was made easier then because she'd been in a relationship. At least she'd thought herself in a committed relationship. Frank, on the other hand, had thought otherwise. She smoothed down her practical gray skirt, tugged at the hem of her purple cashmere blouse and glanced down. Yikes! The V-shaped neckline now exposed a bit more cleavage than she felt comfortable given who she was about to face on the other side of that door. Not that it mattered. She could walk into his office wearing a burlap sack and he would try to get her out of it. That thought had the butterflies in her belly heading south. Geezus, she actually wanted him to try to get her out of her clothes! Alexis sighed. She was pathetic. The man was a pig. Not that it should surprise her. She always found herself attracted to the pigs. Men who were only after one thing, as the saying went. Spread your legs for me, baby, and I'll leave you tomorrow. Yeah, that about summed up her taste in men. She'd considered swearing off them. Problem with that was she enjoyed companionship. After a while, she got lonely without a man, without someone to hang out with, to talk to, even when she discovered later he hadn't listened to a word she'd said. She could go lesbo. Forsake men and hook up with a woman. Another woman would surely be able to give her what she desired in terms of a relationship because another woman would be out for the same thing. There was that little absence of the penis, though. Okay, not so little. Big, huge, ginormous absence was more like it. If she got lucky, anyway. When Alexis found that thought leading her to wonder about the exact size of Cayman's penis, she squared her shoulders and knocked on the office door. The sooner she got this started, the sooner it could be over. Besides, with the direction her thoughts were headed she would soon find herself on the brink of orgasm just standing outside the man's office! She paused, waited and, when no invitation came, she opened the door anyway and stepped inside. No way was she willing to stand out there waiting for the next penetrating thought to come. And wasn't that a double entendre she didn't need to consider right now?

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Cayman sat behind a large oak desk that was a carbon copy of her own two offices down. He was leaning back in his swivel chair, his feet propped on the blotter, ankles crossed, phone at his ear, looking like an advertisement for Abercrombie & Fitch. Damn Skippy but the man was sex to the third power! Dark hair the color of deep space reached his shirt collar in haphazard curls and framed a long, thin face that somehow managed to hold onto many boyish features despite his thirty-plus years. His eyes were the color of a Jolly Rancher green apple candy and permanently lit with a promise that he was just as sweet and cavity forming. He shot her a glance and a smile that nearly made her trip over her own tongue then went back to his business call. At least she assumed it was a business call. He could just as easily be lining up a date for the evening. One thing for certain, if he were lining up a date, it wasn't with her. Alexis tried to remind herself that was a good thing as she moved to one of the leather visitor chairs in front of his desk. A date with a pig was always far more enticing than satisfying. The mud and slop they tended to dish out contained more calories than an entire box of chocolate-covered cherries and tended to leave a bitter taste in your mouth that lingered as long as the extra pounds. What lingered now, however, was the sudden mental picture Alexis got of Cayman hanging up the phone, standing and walking around the desk toward her, all the while giving her one of those panty-wetting smiles. His hands reached for his tie—a power tie of dark colors in an abstract pattern— and removed it with a practiced skill as he stopped in front of her chair. He reached for her hands, looping the tie around her wrists, binding them with a knot loose enough for her to escape if she really wanted to. Of course, she didn't want to. His gaze met hers, heated, promising, calculating and his lips quirked in a far more seductive version of his wickedly persuasive smile as he leaned in, looping her bound hands around his neck. He pulled her to her feet with him as he straightened. His hands were on her hips, skimming their way up her sides, drawing her skirt up until it bunched around her waist. "Alexis?" He pushed a knee between her legs, spreading her as he moved one hand between their bodies, found the thin strip of satin covering her feminine lips. "Alexis? Hello."

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Alexis jolted, blinked, her gaze instantly landing on Cayman. Other than hanging up the phone, he remained just as she'd found him, seated behind the desk, his feet propped on the blotter, his power tie securely around his neck. Not standing with his rock-solid body pressed against hers, one knee between her legs, one hand caressing her sodden panties. No. The only thing between her legs now was a raging heat and a whole lot of juices. Cayman's brow rose in amusement and she couldn't say for sure if it were embarrassment or the sensual look of sexual hunger in his eyes that made her want to melt into her high heels. "Did Mark Chang take you away to his home planet while I was on the phone?" Mark Chang, Cayman's favorite green alien character from the popular Nick Jr. cartoon, The Fairly OddParents. It took a full three seconds for Alexis to make the connection. When she did, she recovered quickly. Lucky for her, she liked the cartoon too. "Actually, I was in the middle of forming a devious plot to steal Cosmo from Wanda." She gave her hair a dramatic flip over her shoulder and batted her eyelashes. "What do you think? Would a fairy as witty and handsome as Cosmo give an everyday girl like me a chance if Wanda wasn't in the picture? I bet if I put my mind to it I could make her run off with Wandisimo, once and for all." Cayman laughed. "Good ole Muscles Magoo, huh? Yeah, I never could quite figure out what Wanda sees in a fairy like Cosmo when she could have a too sexy for his shirt, hot Italian fairy like Wandisimo." "Hey, looks aren't everything, bud. There's a lot to be said for personality and Cosmo has that in spades." "Yes, but I am too sexy to eat," Cayman argued, pitching his voice in a perfect imitation of Wandisimo. That you are, Alexis thought with a breathless inward sigh. She rolled her eyes. "Oh, for the love of Pete." "Pete? Who's Pete? Someone I should know about?" Alexis laughed, this time at Cayman's impersonation of Cosmo. Yeah, no doubt about it, Cayman Porter was definitely too sexy to eat. Not too sexy to lick though, one slow, glorious inch at a time starting with his chiseled jawline, the muscle that stood out in the side of his neck, his collarbone, his… Okay, enough with the daydreaming! "I assume you've heard that Marcus wants us working on the next Gibraltar campaign together." A look

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passed through Cayman's eyes she couldn't quite read, a look so quick she might have imagined it. He shook his head as if to rattle whatever it was loose again and pulled his feet off the desk, let them fall to the floor with a quiet thud, then became all business. "I've heard," he confirmed. "Actually, I was on the phone with Dominic Gibraltar when you came in." Better you than me. It didn't anger her in the least that Cayman had spoken directly with the client without her. As the saying went: game recognized game. If Cayman Porter was a pig, then Dominic Gibraltar was the pig king! Owner of Gibraltar and Sons, a high-priced clothing line catering to today's men and boys, Dominic thought himself God's gift and irresistible to the opposite sex. Oh, he was quite handsome in a Wandisimogreatest-fairy-in-the-universe way save for his groping hands and seedy, innuendo-laden smiles that left no doubt exactly what he wanted in a female companion, or rather from a female companion. Naturally, given the pig magnet that she was, Alexis found herself inexplicably drawn to the man on sight. Best to keep her distance far, far from that one. Not an easy thing to do since his was the largest account the agency handled. He was also the most demanding and hard to please of its clients. "Sometimes I wonder if that account is truly worth all the time and effort we put out to land it," she confessed with a sigh. "I assure you, my precious, it was worth every thought, every ache and pain and every second we put in. He was positively thrilled with the latest campaign." Though she hated being called pet names, especially by Cayman because, geezus, what she wouldn't give to really be his precious, she let that one slide, her relief at the client's satisfaction paramount. "Nice of him to let us know," she said dryly, although inside she was thoroughly pleased by the news. She'd spent weeks reworking the faults Dominic Gibraltar found in hers and Cayman's first proposal to his last campaign, adding in last-minute requests and changing details Dominic insisted on, only to later change his mind. She was still recovering from the headaches that had ensued, still struggling to loose the pounds she’d put on from way too many nights of both take-out food and the sugary sweet calories of Cayman Porter.

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He'd helped with the campaign, of course. He'd had to given that their boss had assigned them to work together. He'd been a gentleman too, much to Alexis's relief and dismay. She'd kept them at the office, too unwilling and untrusting of herself to be alone with him anywhere else. God, but she wanted this man! Still, working so closely with him, she couldn't help but notice the many times his thoughts had gone astray, no doubt planning which woman he could get into the sack next. "Dominic liked it so much, he's the one who requested it be the two of us who puts together this new campaign. This one is for the new young men's line." Cayman picked up a pen from the desktop, slid it between his fingers. "He wants fresh, inventive, something to catch the eye of today's teens and steer them away from the godawful trend of boxers peeking out of pants belted around their thighs and shirts three sizes two big that look as though they were pulled from the nearest Dumpster." **** Alexis laughed at his description of today's latest teen fashion and Cayman felt his next words stick on his tongue. The sound of her laughter, quick, airy and harmonious, wafted to him on the air like a leaf carried by a warm breeze on a summer day. What the hell is going on, he wondered as he stared at her, transfixed. He'd heard her laugh plenty of times before. They’d worked together for years. Never had her laugh felt like this, touched him like a physical caress, tempted his senses until he felt needs inside him open and desires build to explore. He'd always found her attractive. Not his usual pick for a female companion, though he'd tried several times to pick her up anyway. She was sexy in an, I can pass for an elementary school teacher if only I didn't have this dark little secret to hide, kind of way. And yeah, no doubt that dark little secret was just how much she longed to be bad. He could see her being bad too, tied to his bed, naked, legs spread for him, pussy glistening with anticipatory wetness…Sweet Goddess! "Now who's been taken off to Mark Chang's home planet?" She leaned forward in her seat, snapped long slender fingers—ringless fingers, he registered for some unknown reason—near his face and chuckled again.

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"Geez, Cayman, did you get lost in that Playboy Mansion in your head again?" "No. I, uh…" Got lost looking down your blouse. He caught himself in the nick of time, the words on the tip of his tongue. Because he'd been doing exactly that. When she'd leaned forward, unintentionally affording him a view straight down her blouse, his gaze went exactly there. Nicely rounded, pale breasts spilled over the top of a violet bra she wore under the deep purple V-neck blouse. He realized then that he hadn't failed to notice the gray skirt when she first entered his office though he hadn't thought about it at the time. Yes, he'd taken note of the fact that, while practical in style, it showed more of her shapely legs than she usually showed. Come to think of it, he thought as he studied her, the blouse revealed more than normal too. She rarely allowed so much flesh to go uncovered. She didn't have to, seemingly knowing that less flesh exposed left more to the imagination. And, oh boy, did he have one hell of an imagination! "Got a date tonight?" he asked and felt something suspiciously like jealously turn over in his gut. "As a matter of fact, I do." He let several seconds pass as he considered her, as he began to consider these strange, alien-like feelings and crazy thoughts popping into his head. He closed his eyes and when the image of her naked and bound to his bed reformed in the darkness behind his lids, his eyes popped open again. Not now. Oh boy, now was certainly not the time for analyzing that picture. Business. He had to think business. "I don't suppose you could reschedule?" Or cancel, he added silently. Tell the guy to take a hike, eat shit, kiss your ass. No, skip the last part. The guy might actually do that one and… Yikes! Let's not go there, Porter. Alexis made a teepee with her fingertips, elbows rested on the chair arms. "I could," she answered slowly. "Why would I want to?" Because he isn't the right man for you. Yikes indeed! What the hell was he doing thinking things like that? "The new campaign," he said instead. Business. Think business. "The new line of teen fashion for Gibraltar." Cayman slid a sketchpad across the desk to her. On the top page were rough sketches and ideas he’d jotted down to be played with and expanded. "Dominic wants to launch it in two months."

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"Two months!" She laughed again. This time it sounded almost hysterical. “That leaves us barely a month to design the whole ad campaign." "Precisely why we need to get started right away." "And I'm supposed to believe you're willing to cancel your own date for the evening and spend a Friday night in this office?" Cayman averted his gaze as an uncharacteristic twinge of heat rose to his cheeks. "I don't have a date to cancel." Thanks to Freya, he hadn't landed a date in weeks. Simple spell, his ass. She'd done something to him, something hidden behind those fancy rhyming words and turn-him-on touch. Dammit, what had she done? And more importantly, what could he do to reverse it? Reverse a spell cast directly by a Goddess. Yeah, talk about walking on the wild side. Was he nuts? "You don't have a date on a Friday night?" Alexis's eyes widened, her deliciously enticing mouth falling open as if horrified by the thought. Cayman leaned forward, propped his elbows on the blotter, laced his fingers and waited for the needling he knew would follow. It wasn't long in coming. She closed her mouth only to form her lips into a sly smirk. "Which is it, stud? Run out of women in our little city to date or did the word finally get out about what a slimeball you are?" "Slimeball?" Cayman covered his heart with his palm, feigning a hurt expression. "Alexis, I'm crushed." Though silently he wondered how close her assessment actually was. Not only had he been unable to get a date lately, but when he tried the woman looked at him like he'd grown a second head. That in itself further convinced him Freya had done more than she fessed up to. "I'm sorry you will be spending a Friday night alone, Cayman, but I'm not going to change my date." Alexis stood, smoothed down the back of her skirt, which of course drew his gaze straight to her hips. He actually caught himself attempting to undress her with his eyes before he managed to pull his gaze back up, forced it not to linger on those alluring breasts, and look her in the eyes. He thought he would be safe there. He'd been wrong. Her eyes were the color of maple syrup and graphic images of him pouring the sweet, sticky smooth liquid over taut nipples,

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licking it away even as he continued to pour it down her flat abs and stomach, to lick the patch of auburn curls between her legs, flashed through his mind in Technicolor perfection. His dick, now painfully erect inside his slacks, screamed for release and he shifted in the chair, sought a more comfortable position. It made no sense. He never thought of her this way, never noticed the way her breasts seemed to take the shape of perfect oranges or the way her hips curved from her waist just enough to give her that hourglass figure so often admired. She was his colleague, his friend, and she'd let him know in no uncertain terms what she thought of him a long time ago. Obviously oblivious to the turmoil going on in his head and his pants, she said, "You can get a head start on the campaign tonight. I'll catch up with you on Monday." "Monday? What about tomorrow? Or Sunday?" Alexis stopped with her hand on the knob of the office door, shooting him a sly, satisfied smile over her shoulder. "You couldn't be bothered to work on weekends for the last campaign. Hell, you hardly ever worked nights if you could get a date instead. Consider it payback, partner. I'll see you Monday." She walked out of the office, closing the door quietly behind her.

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Chapter 2 "What did you do to me?" Cayman asked the air of his spacious living room. He'd tried to talk with Freya several times since her first and only visit, to no avail. He’d attempted everything from a simple prayer to an elaborate ritual complete with lit candles, a cast circle and invocation of the Goddess herself. Neither worked. Frustrated, he raked his fingers through his hair and stalked to the kitchen. He returned to the living room moments later with a glass of chilled Chardonnay. "Ah, a glass of white wine. Now there is an offering a Goddess cannot resist." Freya sat on one end of the sofa, legs crossed, hands folded in her lap, her two cats at her feet. She looked completely comfortable, as if she belonged there. "You can have the whole dammed bottled if you tell me what you did to me." "I did, my son. I explained the spell. I even told you what was needed to break it." Cayman's frustration built, threatening to boil over in a spill of anger. Not good to yell at a Goddess, he reminded himself and yanked in his temper, even if she is being difficult and uncooperative. "How am I supposed to find the love of my life, or whatever she is, if I can't even get a date?" She smiled, her lips tilting in a way that was both sensual and condescending. "You did that to yourself." "What? How? And don't give me that shit about me being a womanizer and word getting around. I'm not that dammed popular in this town." "Your reputation does tend to precede you more and more these days, but no, it is not past actions that caused this sudden change in your social life. Nor is it the spell I cast." She paused, studied him as if attempting to

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anticipate his reaction to her next words. "You cast this particular spell upon yourself." Cayman sighed. He never cared much for word games. Couldn't she give a simple answer to a simple question? "Okay. I give. How exactly did I curse myself?" "You have performed little magic since I left you last. Apart from your attempts to contact me—" "All of which you ignored," he muttered. "You aren't the only witch with love problems in our worlds," she said with an eloquent shrug. "I didn't have love problems until you decided to meddle in my life." She ignored that comment and said, "You did attempt one spell." Cayman fought to remain still, fought not to fidget, not to let his surprise show. Had he actually believed he could try a spell and she wouldn’t know? "I knew you would have to prove what I spoke the hard way." "The attraction spell," he said on a quiet sigh. "Did you not believe that my spell worked, that I hindered your powers for any magic of the sort?" She sounded as though she scolded a two-yearold for attempting to reach a cookie jar after being told repeatedly not to climb on the countertop. In truth, he'd had to test it. After over a week of the fear and intimidation her spell instilled in him, he wanted to see just how binding her words had been. So he did a simple spell. Nothing happened. End of story. Or so he thought. "The spell didn't work." Freya angled her head at him. "Are you so sure about that? Think about the days since you performed that spell. What has changed?" He thought…and with bone-chilling clarity, he understood. He never needed the magic to get dates. His looks and charm got him those. Even in the week that followed Freya's spell, he went on three dates. Sexless dates, he thought with a scowl, but dates nevertheless. Then he’d attempted the spell. "That's when women started turning me down when I asked them out." She opened her hands in a gesture that said, "There you go." "How did my spell cause that?"

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"Did I not warn you any attempt at such magic would have consequences?" "Yeah, you wouldn't tell me what consequences." "It is but the law of three. You have sought to manipulate women and their natural attraction to you through magic. It has returned to you times three." "You're saying the spell made me unattractive to women?" "So it seems." "Well, shit." Cayman shook his head, turned and paced a few steps, turned again and paced back. "How do I break it?" "You don't. It must run its course." "And what of my true love?" he asked and winced. Damn, he was starting to sound like Robin Hood. No, he decided, Shrek was more like it. Only instead of the princess looking for her true love, it would be Shrek doing the searching. He would be Shrek. The big, green, ugly ogre in search of the one to love him. All he lacked was Donkey for a companion. "I could arrange that for you if you like." Cayman shot Freya a look, noted her knowing smirk and rolled his eyes. "No thanks. I may be currently unable to get a date but I'm not desperate enough to resort to donkeys for a mate." Freya shrugged. "Suit yourself. In answer to your question, she will be unaffected by this, for her attraction to you is not an obstacle." "Whatever the hell that means." "What made you treat women the way you do?" Cayman blinked at the abrupt change in conversation, started to stammer. "I—how—you act like I abuse women or something. I've never hit a woman in my life." That had been his father's style, ruling his house, his wife, his child with an iron fist. He was nothing like his father and the implication that he was anything close to that made him bristle. "There are other ways to abuse. Maybe you should think about that. Consider why you toss women aside like they are yesterday's trash." "That's pretty harsh," Cayman muttered as Freya's form faded into nothingness. Trash? He didn't toss women around like trash. That too had been his father's MO. Not Cayman's. Still, even as he dismissed the unflattering and completely inapt analogy, his mind held on to one more word. Toss.

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With it came the image of himself tossing Alexis London onto his bed even as he climbed on top of her. She gazed up at him, excitement, heat and anticipation swirling in her incredible eyes. He pinned her hands above her head, holding them to the mattress in one of his as he used his free hand to tear at her clothes. He caught the V-shaped neckline of her purple blouse in his fingers and yanked, the sound of the material ripping acting as an aphrodisiac to his already steaming senses. She arched beneath him, her luscious lips parted in a gasp of surprise as he leaned down to catch the front of her bra between his teeth and pull, breaking the clasp and freeing her beautiful breasts. She strained against his hand, the hold he had on her wrists, but her fight was one of arousal, of play. She didn't really want him to let her go. She liked what he was doing to her. Cayman snapped out of his reverie with a jolt. Breath ragged, he wiped at a bead of sweat above his brow with the back of his hand, tipped back the glass of wine and downed the remaining drops. Gods, how long had it been since he'd gotten sucked into a fantasy like that? Had it been a vision? Oh baby, he hoped so. But a fantasy, a vision like that about Alexis London! He stalked to the kitchen to refill his glass, mind reeling. Come to think of it, he'd been catching some pretty wild images of Alexis flashing through his mind since she walked into his office. Why her and why now? He'd worked with her for well over a year, spent quite a bit of time working closely with her on the last Gibraltar campaign. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Oh, he'd thought about her from time to time, even entertained himself with a fantasy or two that involved her and that sweet, shapely body, but this… "You stupid fool," he chastised himself. Even as the answer came to him, he brought his glass to his lips, hoping to find sanity somewhere in the chilled grapes. Naw, that couldn't be right. It just couldn't! He began to pace, one long, slender finger idly tracing the rim of his wine glass. Alexis London. Freya's words resounded in his mind as that alltoo-clear picture of Alexis formed to block his vision. There is a woman out there for you, one who will love you without spell being cast or any magical manipulation. "I'm meant to fall in love with Alexis London?" he spat on a laugh that bordered hysteria. "Talk about the deities having a sense of humor. Goddess, you must be crazy."

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Even as he continued to chuckle, he knew this was no joke. He was right. Freya meant him to fall in love with Alexis. It certainly explained the vivid pornographic film playing through his mind as of late, starring Alexis. He wondered, though, if the Love Goddess was aware of one possibly major snag in her matchmaking gig. Alexis London wouldn't give him the time of day. At least not in any way outside of the professional realm. What had she called him the other day in his office? A slimeball? Yep, Alexis thought he was a slimeball. An attractive slimeball, he knew. He'd seen her attraction to him in those expressive eyes of hers on way more than one occasion. In spite of that, of all the women he knew, Alexis remained firmly under the category headed: Can't Get Me In Bed. She was a dead fish when it came to advances from him and he'd tried. Really, he had. Several times, in fact. Even the strongest man could only pick himself up off the floor so many times before deciding the prize wasn't worth it. Although, okay, he admitted now that there had always been this niggling thought in the back of his mind that the prize of Alexis London would indeed be worth all the effort he could put out. That was merely the pang of rejection talking, the thrill of the chase. It was a clear example of the grass is always greener syndrome. One always wants what he doesn't have, and more, what he can't have. That was exactly what was happening here. Right? He had it all wrong and Alexis wasn't the woman to whom Freya's spell spoke. All these stirrings, these vivid images, they were merely a product of lust combined with nearly two weeks of forced celibacy. Two freaking weeks! That could all but kill a man! Lust, celibacy or, Goddess help him, possibly love, what would it hurt to spread on the charm? He'd never done that with Alexis. Not really. Oh, he'd tried to get her but he'd never given it his full effort. A little of that and he would have her professing her love even as she cried out beneath him, quivering from the aftereffects of an orgasm, no matter how strong her resolve or how much she disliked him. And if she were truly the woman Freya spoke of, the spell would be broken and he could move on with his life. A little voice kicked up in the back of his mind murmuring about equal love and all that. He moved to the stereo, switched it on to the local rock

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station and silenced the voice. He could deal with the equality clause when the time came. If nothing else, he thought with a sly grin and a little strut to his step in beat with the music, he'd always been one hell of an actor. **** The doorbell rang softly through Alexis's apartment in the universal ding-dong melody. In her mind it was intensified to the shrill of a fire alarm. More fitting, she supposed, considering who she knew to be on the opposite side of her front door. He'd talked her into it and she couldn't figure out how. True, the day at the office had been horrific at best, a madhouse full of ringing phones, client inquisitions and monthly reports. She and Cayman had both been so busy with their own separate assignments that neither had the time to discuss plans for the new Gibraltar line. Nevertheless, to agree to a private meeting after work, a meeting at her apartment rather than the office... Oh yeah, she'd definitely fallen off her rocker when she agreed to that one. Not good to let her resistance down for even a second around Cayman Porter. She knew that as well as she knew her own name. She squared her shoulders, put a hand between her breasts in a feeble attempt to calm her racing heart, and opened the door. Thank the Gods, she had her hand over her chest. Without it, her heart would have surely beat right out of her body. Cayman's smile came instantly and dazzlingly and for several long seconds, she found her gaze glued to his lips, moist and shapely and the perfect shade of pale pink. Her mouth went dry and then watered again as she finally pulled her attention free, only to let her gaze slide down the length of him. Damn Skippy! Alexis had known the man was a knockout ad for GQ Magazine in his Armani suits and power ties but dressed down in jeans, pullover tee and scuffed tennis shoes, he leapt straight to the front cover of People Magazine as the top contender of the sexiest man alive. Somehow she'd skillfully avoided seeing Cayman in street clothes in the year since she accepted the job at TM Advertising. There was just something about seeing a usually well-dressed man clad in his playclothes that was a real pantywetter for her. Although, okay, to be honest, it wasn't often she could walk away from a mere glance at Cayman Porter with dry underwear. Now more

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than ever she found herself wishing she were back in diapers. The superabsorbent kind. "I hope you're hungry." "You have no idea," Alexis muttered before she could stop herself. Her gaze darted up, met his, held and dammit, of course he'd heard her. His brows arched in a surprised amusement that had heat rushing to her cheeks. Oh man, this was not the way she needed to start a private meeting in her apartment with a sex God like Cayman Porter. Especially a sex God she had absolutely no intention of sleeping with. Ever! "Good," he said and gently pushed passed her into the apartment, a bag with a logo of symbols and pictures in his hand. "Because I brought Chinese takeout. Where do you want it?" On the floor, against the wall, the counter top, the bed…hell, she wasn't picky here. "The, uh, kitchen table will be fine," she said briskly. She closed the door and moved to said kitchen, her step faltering only slightly as she passed him, felt the heat radiating from his body. Damn, the man was hot in more ways than one! "We can work while we eat." Her apartment was small, a one bedroom with a combination living/dining area, one bath and the kitchen. The abnormality was that the kitchen was actually large enough for a small breakfast table. One of the things that had sold her on the apartment was that it fit her meager budget and left her with the option of turning the dining area into a small computer office while affording her the luxury of a kitchen table. "And chance getting sweet and sour sauce or Mongolian beef on the flats?" He shook his head. His hair was actually ruffled, his dark curls mussed and boyishly free and her fingers itched to tangle in the locks. Did it feel as silky smooth as it looked? "Let’s eat first," he continued, moving to set his briefcase on the floor at the end of the coffee table. "Then we can work in here where we can be more comfortable." Comfortable? Getting too comfortable with Cayman Porter was the last thing she needed to do tonight. This was a bad, bad idea. What she needed was to get him the hell out of her apartment. Alexis cleared her throat and thought about copping to a cold or maybe a headache. Recent studies show that hot, animalistic sex is the best cure for a headache, a little voice whispered in her mind. Yeah, right, and sucking a

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man's cock cures throat cancer, she thought and immediately wished she hadn't because, shit, her gaze immediately dropped to his crotch. His very bulgy crotch. Ah boy. "I'll get the plates down," she said and turned quickly, practically running for the safety of the kitchen. Safety only because it gave her an excuse to get away fast before he noticed her cheeks were flaming again, before he realized she'd been checking out the size of his cock, for crying out loud! "We could just eat out of the cartons," he suggested, following her. "Less dishes to wash later." "I don't mind. I love doing dishes." And wasn't that a stupid thing to say? There wasn't a woman in her right mind who liked washing dishes. A woman in her right mind. Yes, weren't those the key words in that sentence? She, apparently, was not one of those women at this moment. He was making her nervous, making her think about things she had no business thinking about and it was causing her to babble. Ugh, she hated it when she started to babble! "Glasses. Drinks. What do you want to drink? I've got soda, milk, water, juice—" "Wine?" Alexis turned from the cabinets to find him holding out a bottle of Chardonnay. "Or wine." She gulped, her taste buds suddenly screaming for a sip. She turned back to the cabinet, pulled two long-stemmed wine glasses from the top shelf and moved to the sink to rinse them. How long had it been since she'd had a glass of wine in her apartment with a man? Apparently long enough for the glasses to become coated with a thick layer of dust. She heard a quick scraping sound followed by a pop and a quiet whoosh, the kind a match made when slid along the sandpaper strip on the side of a matchbox, and looked over her shoulder to find Cayman lighting the red taper candles that sat in crystal holders in the center of her kitchen table. He glanced at her. She arched a brow. He shrugged. It was a boyish gesture, a move of innocence as if to say, "What? The candles are there. Why not light them?" Why not indeed? Alexis pushed a hard breath from her lungs and turned, plates and glasses in hand. Wariness and nerves were tight rubber bands in her gut, twisting, gripping, chasing at the butterflies moving freely

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about. Chinese food, candles, wine. It didn't take a genius to figure out what he was up to. Why now? Why tonight? Sex. It was the single-word answer that explained everything. Alexis didn't kid herself into thinking for a moment that Cayman Porter finally found her so breathtakingly attractive that he wanted anything more from her than pure, unadulterated sex. It was all he'd ever wanted from her, from any woman. Dammit, no matter how good he looked or how badly she wanted him, she wasn't going to give him what he wanted. She just wasn't. **** She was going to give him what he wanted, he just knew it. Cayman laid on the charm and it was working, well, like a charm. He sat across from Alexis at her kitchen table, the soft glow of candlelight glimmering between them, watching her eat. The way her lips slowly closed around her fork made his dick twitch with jealously. The way her eyes did a slight roll of ecstasy as she savored the spice and flavor of the Mongolian beef, Szechwan pork, and sweet and sour chicken he'd brought made him wonder if she would get that same look as he pushed his cock deeply inside her. The delicate way she fingered the pendant at her neck when he talked, listening as he rambled on about subjects of no consequence or importance just to hold her attention made him want to feel those fingers curled around his shaft. He couldn't remember the last time he'd talked so much. More, he couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted to talk. "How about you?" he asked after a while. He reached for the wine bottle, topped off both their glasses. "I just realized I know so little about you." "What do you want to know?" she asked. Her eyes narrowed and her head tilted slightly to one side as she studied him. She was on guard, probably figuring he was doing all of this to get her in bed. And yeah, okay, having sex with her had pushed its way to the forefront of his mind the moment she opened the door. In a word, the woman looked hot tonight! Sweet Goddess, a pair of sweats and an oversized snoopy T-shirt had never looked so enticing. She'd pulled her hair into a tight ponytail high on the back of her head. He'd never seen her hair up like that and he decided in an instant he liked the look. It exposed her

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long, slender neck, the smooth skin just below her ears, the even plane of her jaw. Cayman licked his lips, his tongue dying to trace that flesh, to taste, to nip. And when her gaze dropped to his mouth, centered on his tongue, he had to bite back a grin. Did it make her think of all the things he could do to her with his tongue? It surely made him think. Gods, was he ever thinking! "Your parents," he heard himself say. "Where do they live? Are they still married? What are they like?" "Florida. Jacksonville. They recently celebrated their thirty-second anniversary. My mother is a computer junkie." Alexis laughed, shook her head, sipped her wine. "My father had to convince her to buy her first computer. She didn't want one. Now, he can't get her off of it. She's actually started her own home-based business helping others figure out the bugs in their own systems. You know, kind of like the Geek Squad, though not near as pricey. They live on an island suburb of Jacksonville. Less traffic, not so much commotion. They sold the house I grew up in a few years back and bought a condo on the beach. Nothing fancy. A two bedroom, two bath with a small room for an office for my Mom and a single-car garage for my Dad." She shrugged. "It's big enough for them. My father is a foreman, by the way, at a pipe yard in Jacksonville. They, the company, build boats, barges, that sort of stuff. He's been there for a really long time, so he pretty much stands around and gives orders these days." She painted the picture of the perfect middle-aged couple living in the Sunshine State. Cayman found himself smiling at that and wishing wistfully that his own parents had been so lucky. A powerful witch who allowed herself to be nearly destroyed by a powerless but cruel man, Kimberly Witherspoon's marriage to Louis Porter had been anything but perfect. Heavy hands, wandering eyes, crushed spirits and restless desires ended their marriage long before their thirtieth anniversary. His mother had left, unable to withstand the beatings and harsh words, unwilling to use her powers to harm even in her own defense. Cayman couldn't fault her for that. No woman deserved the hell his father put her through. In leaving the ties that bound her so fiercely, she'd left Cayman behind as well. Abandoned by his own mother, left to grow and discover his own powers under the influence and neglect of a father whose ill-temper and lack of faithfulness eventually drove him to an early grave attributed to AIDS.

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Why, Cayman found himself wondering now, hadn't the Gods stepped in for his parents? Why hadn't Freya cast a spell on his father much like the one that hampered his own powers to change his father's course of life? Would it have made a difference if Freya had involved herself in his parent's marriage? "So your parents are living the fun life on the Florida beaches and you're here," he concluded, pushing his own troubled past aside, preferring instead to wrap himself in her secure and seemingly solid world. "How did you end up in North Carolina? It's a big step, lots of miles between here and the Sunshine State." "It's the best of both worlds," she countered, gingerly laying her fork on the side of her plate. She pushed the dish away, not more than a half an inch, though enough to signal she was through, and propped her elbows on the table, laced her fingers together, and rested her chin on top of them. "Here I have the beaches and the mountains. I can watch the seasons change, the beauty of the leaves as they move from green to gold then finally fall away in winter only to return again an even more vibrant green in the spring. The temperature changes from warm to hot to breezy to frigid all in the course of a year. I get the snow, the rain, the sun, and, sometimes, even a bit of the dangerous storms." She wasn't Wiccan. Cayman knew that much about her, could sense that despite the reverence with which she spoke of the nature around them. It made something flutter to life inside him, listening to her speak of that which meant so much to him with the gleeful sparkle in her eyes. She appreciated nature and all its beauty. That was her power and it was magnetic, strong, tugging at him with an intensity that bordered on metaphysical. For a moment, he could picture them tramping through thick trees and brush, hiking up mountainsides, swimming through the surf, dancing in the moonlight while a cool breeze blew off the land, and… Ho there, what was up with Mr. Romantic? Cayman blinked back the starry daydream and set his own fork aside. "You should have been a forest ranger or a lifeguard," he commented, deciding to analyze these hokey, romantic notions later. One thing was for certain, Alexis London was giving him entirely too much to think about tonight. "Why did you choose advertising?"

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She didn't answer for several long seconds. She narrowed her eyes, licked her lips, studied him, then finally sat up straight and reached for her wine glass. "I'm creative," she answered with a shrug. "I'm imaginative and I'm good at design as well as snappy little jingles or catchy phrases. I'm not so good with words that I could pull off thousands of them in the form of make believe characters. You know, designing a whole world, their lives, all that stuff." "You're not a fiction writer," Cayman supplied for her. She shook her head, sipped her wine. "Nope, definitely not. Writing those catchphrases, drafting those ad campaigns that make buyers stop and pay attention, the ones that stay in the buyer’s mind until just the right moment in a department store, that I'm good at." "Yes, you are," Cayman agreed with a smile. He reached across the table, his own wine glass in hand, and clanked the crystal lightly to hers in a toast. Alexis beamed as if he'd just given her the greatest compliment in the world. She had to know she was good at her job. He'd told her how good he thought she was before, hadn't he? Gauging the way her eyes lit up brighter than the candle between them as she gazed at him now over the rim of her glass, he had to conclude he hadn't. "Thank you," she said and then, as if suddenly embarrassed by her elation, she set down her glass, pushed away from the table. "We should probably move to the living room, get started on the campaign. Unless…" She hesitated as she stood, looked down at the array of takeout cartons, plates, sauce packets and napkins. "Maybe we should clean off the table instead and bring the stuff in here. The kitchen light is brighter than the living room lamps, easier to work by." Which was exactly why he'd turned off that light the first chance she gave him, lit the candles instead. Because it wasn't quite dark outside, the fading sunlight flowed in through the large picture window in the living room and the sliding glass door off the dining room, preventing their dinner from being lit solely by the candles. It had been dark enough for him to enjoy watching her through the flickering yellowish-orange glow. He'd liked the way the dancing flames made her lightly tanned skin seem to take on a radiance of beauty beyond the natural realm and the way her eyes dazzled as

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they talked. He didn't want to lose that now, feared that turning on the overhead light would chase away far more than the growing dark. Moving to the living room, however, would help him hold onto the charming ambiance he managed to create with the candlelight dinner. Even if she turned on the lamps, the forced relaxation of sitting on the sofa or even the floor as they pondered ideas for the campaign and continued to sip at the wine would be far less informal. "I'll help you clean this up if you like," he offered as he stood, though normally doing dishes tended to give him a rash. Not literally, of course, but paper plates and plastic utensils had been invented for a reason. "If it's all the same to you, I would prefer to work in the living room." He shot her a smile. "More comfortable. Easier to stretch my legs." He could swear he heard her expel a soft sigh of resignation as he turned his back and walked to the sink.

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Chapter 3 Cayman Porter was up to something. Alexis eyed him suspiciously as together they quickly cleared the table, rinsing the dishes to stow away in the dishwasher and disposing of the trash before he led her, wine bottle and glasses in hand, to the living room. He'd rattled her, put her even more on edge than she'd already been with his questions about her personal life, her family. And he'd listened. No matter how she tried to laugh it away, she couldn't brush off the belief that he'd actually listened to what she said. She amused herself for a brief moment with the idea of giving him a pop quiz on their conversation, if for no other reason than to prove to herself she'd merely fallen for one of his tricks. Thing was, she firmly believed he would pass such a test with flying colors. "I sketched out a few ideas that popped to mind," he began as he set the bottle and his glass on the coffee table and reached for his briefcase. He moved between the table and the sofa, perching on the edge of the cushion, his elbows resting on his knees as he spread several flats on the table in front of him. He'd leapt right into business, Alexis mused as she flicked on the endtable lamps, one on either side of the sofa, then joined him. She was careful to leave enough space that another person could have sat between them. Even with the distance, she felt the heat of his presence, smelled his innate woodsy scent. Both the scent and the heat drifted to her like a gentle breeze, flowing over her, seeping into her until she felt the warmth clear to her toes. It aroused her, as if she'd needed more than the sight of him to do that. Her nipples hardened beneath the satin of her bra and the tingling ache between her legs she'd attempted to ignore, the one that began when she opened the door to him less than an hour ago, made itself more pronounced. "Gibraltar was, of course, full of suggestions," Cayman went on.

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Alexis forced herself to concentrate on his words rather than her own growing need to touch him, to scoot nearer to him so she could bask in his warmth, wrap herself in his scent. Gibraltar had made suggestions. That's what Cayman just said. The idea of Dominic Gibraltar's suggestions was enough to do it. Alexis felt her mind snap to business mode even as a groan escaped her lips. It made Cayman laugh. The sound put her in dangerous proximity of losing herself to her salacious thoughts again but she kept a straight head. "They're not so bad this time," Cayman assured her and pointed to the first of the flats he'd sketched. "This is one of them. I did some moderate adaptations, made some small tweaks in the design. All in all, this was what he came up with." Alexis leaned over to study the sketch. It surprised her that she had to agree with Cayman. It wasn't bad at all. Dominic Gibraltar may be the owner of Gibraltar and Sons, a top businessman with a head for soaring above his competitors, but when it came to the down and dirty details of the ads themselves, his ideas could usually make one run screaming for a place to bury their head. Not so with these, though, she realized as she studied the sketches more closely. Because she was familiar with his work, Cayman's additions stood out to her. The colors, the designs, the quirky way he had of adding just a touch of symbolism to everything he did. No one ever noticed these minute additions, at least not for the magical symbols she knew them to be. Few people even knew of Cayman's religion, his beliefs or the fact that he was a wizard. Or was it a male witch? She'd always wanted to ask which term he preferred but never found the nerve. She only knew because she had spent enough time with him over the years to pick up on the signs. "You're right," she said, reaching out to lay a finger on the second flat, the sketch there as compelling as the first. "These are great!" "So are you." Cayman's soft words made her glance up, her breath hitching in her throat. He was right there, mere inches away, his face so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her own face. Too close, was her first thought. How had he managed to get so close? She'd been careful when she sat down, to keep distance between them. Now that distance was gone.

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She should pull back. She knew she should but she was frozen, her mind no longer in control of her muscles, no longer able to register anything beyond the look of desire in his eyes, the flicker of moisture on his lips. She saw his hand, felt it as it lightly came to rest on her cheek, angled her head to lean into that touch as he cupped, caressed with his thumb, held. "You're so beautiful, Alexis," he said on a whisper that flowed through her, sending pulse points of tingling surprise through her system. Her eyes wanted to close, to drift shut while she lost herself in his touch, his words, his warmth, but she wouldn't let them, couldn't. She felt herself falling for his charm, his tricks, his power. Was it a spell? It was, she answered herself in the next ragged breath. Not one of a metaphysical magic. This was a spell of pure, unadulterated attraction, lust, need and, for her, even more. More because she'd begun to fall just a little bit in love with this man she thought was a pig, this man she knew only wanted to have sex with her. More because there was more to Cayman Porter than that and she'd known it for some time now, saw it even at dinner tonight, could see it now in the depths of his eyes. It was a more he wouldn't admit to, a more that for whatever reason he held back, secret from the world, possibly even from himself. "I'm not going to sleep with you," she said softly, firmly. She figured the fact that she was unable to pull away depleted some of the weight to her words, though. He smiled, the faint hint of a dimple appearing at the corner of his mouth. "Would that be because you don't want to or because you do?" "Both," she admitted on a breathless sigh. She'd said too much. That one little word told him far too much, gave him too much power over her, but she couldn't take it back. "Okay," he nodded and kissed her anyway. Alexis saw his lips inch closer, knew what he planned to do, knew her words hadn't been enough to deter him. Even knowing all of that, she was powerless to stop what came next. She'd dreamt of kissing him, fantasized about how it would feel, how it would taste. Never had she expected it to be like this. His lips met hers in a brush so light, so soft she almost thought she imagined it. Then they touched again, a faint, sweet connection that had her senses exploding in a riot of sugary bliss.

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When he licked the crease of her lips, urged them to part, it never occurred to her not to let him inside. His tongue swept into the inviting recesses of her mouth, searching, tasting, consuming. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, one inching to the back of his neck, fingers delving in the silky curls she'd longed to feel for so long. His hand skimmed the side of her face even as he angled his head, deepening the kiss, rocking her world with the press of his lips, little nips of his teeth, soothing licks of his tongue. He tasted of wild passion, a tempting dessert to be devoured beyond reason or guilt. As he slowly laid her back on the sofa, as his mouth eased from her lips to move over her cheek, her jaw, lower, she felt her reason slipping, felt the razor-sharp edge of desire and need slicing at her resolve. "Cayman," Alexis breathed his name as her head rolled to one side, exposing more of her neck for him to kiss. She meant to warn him, to tell him to stop, but couldn't find the words or the strength. She was putty in his hands, hands that moved over her torso, slipping under her shirt to find and cup her breasts. Her own hands began an exploring mission of their own, one tangled in his hair, playing, teasing, as the other slid over his broad shoulder, down his back. She felt his muscles, hard and unyielding, beneath her palm, strong muscles that held his weight now as he lay atop her feeling her, wanting her. "You're so soft, so hot," Cayman whispered between alternate kisses and licks to her throat even as he began a pressured massage on her breasts. "I've wanted to touch you for so long. Gods, you're like fire in my hands, Alexis." She was. She could feel herself going up into flames, his mouth and hands acting as the accelerant to the already slowly burning fire between her legs. "I'm not going to sleep with you," she said again. Even as the words left her mouth she was spreading her knees apart, digging her heels into the sofa so she could lift her middle off the cushion, grind her heat against the roughness of his denim jeans. Cayman's head popped up. An expression very nearly like surprise and mortification passed through his handsome features like a whirlwind before quickly disappearing, before the heat, determination and longing returned. He nodded. "I know. I understand. Please, let me feel you. Let me pleasure you." His hands released her breasts, skimming down the heated flesh of her abs, her stomach, lower. He gently gripped her hips, pushed them back to

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the sofa. He locked gazes with her and she wondered at the desire, the intense need she saw in his eyes. "Will you give me at least that much tonight, Alexis?" "I—" What was he asking? It wasn’t until she felt his hand close over her pussy through the material of her jogging pants that she understood. "That isn’t fair," she said in a weak protest. "It won’t be fair to you." "I don’t give a damn about fairness." His palm ground over her mound, created a low humming friction that had her rocking against his hand, gasping for more. "I want you squirming, panting, gasping, begging and wishing you would have let me have all of you as I make you cum in other ways." As he spoke, he lowered his lips to hers, brushing, licking, nipping between his words before taking her mouth in a kiss so stunning she almost felt her head explode. Needs and flames tangled with surprise and wonder as the wall of her self-control began to crack. Never had she expected him to be a considerate lover, a man more interested in the pleasure of the woman in his arms then his own release. She was denying him exactly that. He believed her, or at least said he believed her, when she said she wouldn't sleep with him. Instead, he was determined to show her pleasure even at his own expense. It was another kind of spell, that selfless giving, and she felt herself falling further. When she allowed a low moan to escape, she sensed it put a chink in his armor, the kiss changing from tender to pulse-spasm-inducing in a breath. His tongue went wild inside her mouth, dancing with hers so fast she could hardly keep up. Then his hands moved under her shirt, pulling it up until her breasts were freed between them and she forgot all about concentrating on his mouth. He broke the kiss long enough to pull the shirt over her head and toss it to the floor. Alexis didn’t fight him. Couldn’t fight him. The spell he had over her was too great, the magic, whether metaphysical or imagined, between them too strong to resist. She realized in that instant he could have his way with her right now and she would be powerless to stop him. He didn't try. He kept to her wishes, to his words. Cayman kissed her neck, licked his way to her collarbone where he stopped for a quick nibble before continuing down, leaving sparks of fire everywhere his mouth touched. He drew her right nipple into his mouth and instinctively, her back arched, pushing her tit further into the warmness of

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him. He sucked in a breath and she knew what he was doing was driving him equally crazy as it was her. "Oh God," she whispered as his teeth closed around her nipple. His bite was light and gentle, just hard enough to send a lightning bolt of pleasurable pain straight to her pussy. The throbbing between her legs was so intense she squirmed beneath him. "Cayman, I… You’re… I can’t…" She stammered as she felt herself climbing higher toward orgasm. With one last suck, he released her breast and raised his upper body to rest on one arm. He gazed down at her and the want, the desire she saw in his eyes took her breath away. "Hold it in, sweetheart," he said softly as his free hand eased down her stomach, under the waistband of the sweats to the soft narrow patch of her pubic hair. His gaze stayed locked on hers as he slid one finger between her pussy lips and slowly over her swollen clit. "I’m not through with you," he said and pushed one finger into her. Her eyes closed, her head pushed back against the sofa cushion as her hips lifted to meet his finger. He pulled out of her, paused until she opened her eyes to look at him, then drove two fingers side by side into her as deep as they would go. Alexis gasped and dug her fingernails into the back of the sofa, her other hand grasping the front of his shirt in a fist. "You can't cum until my mouth is on you so I can taste you, drink you. That's what I want, Alexis. That will make all of this fair to me." Through the haze of sexual bliss, the blur of power around her, Alexis nodded though she barely heard him over the pounding of her heart. With each push of his fingers inside her, her breath caught, her inner muscles clenched, and when his thumb brushed her clitoris her legs shook around him. She was close, so excruciatingly close. A couple more thrusts of those wide, long fingers, a few more caresses from that slightly callused thumb on her clit and she would explode. As if sensing how close to orgasm she was, he pulled his hand out of her sweats. Alexis nearly cried out in protest. She watched as he pushed himself up and sat back. He lifted the fingers he'd had inside her to his mouth and licked her juices from them. He looked so unbelievably sexy sitting between her legs, his eyes darkened by sexual desire, a small, knowing grin on his moist lips.

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"Scoot back." His voice held an erotic tone she'd never heard before, deep, rich and flaming. It was as tantalizing to her body as his touch. "As far back as you can." She followed his instructions though her entire body shook from the movement. When she was settled, her upper body resting against the arm of the sofa, he shuffled into a more comfortable position between her legs. In a move more practiced then she wanted to consider, he untied the drawstring of her sweats and had them down and off of her in record time. Cayman's gaze never left her as he tossed the sweats aside. She lay naked, her legs splayed on either side of him, completely on display. It was then she wished for a sudden power outage. What was he thinking as his gaze slid over her? Did he like what he saw or was he disappointed? He'd been with his fair share of women. She knew that about him and couldn't stop from wondering if her body could compete. "You’re so beautiful." He moved over her, stopping only inches from her face. "You’re body is incredible, so luscious, curvaceous. You're wicked temptation, Alexis," he whispered against her lips. "Temptation I can no longer resist." Then he was kissing her again. He knew exactly what to say, seemed to know exactly what she was thinking and how to put her mind at rest. His poetic words—who would have ever thought Cayman Porter would be so sweet?—nearly brought tears to her eyes. Did he really see her that way or were those merely words? If he'd been working toward his own satisfaction, she might have believed the latter except he wasn't. He was working now to please her. And please her he was definitely doing. Between her legs, his fingers returned to her pussy, plunging inside her without warning. "Oh God," she said into his mouth and felt him smile around her lips. His fingers wiggled and curved inside her and almost instantly she was hanging on to her orgasm by a mere ounce of willpower. One touch to her clit and there would be no stopping her this time. It amazed her how intuitive he was to her body’s reaction. He brought her only a breath away from climax and withdrew from her again. "Cayman!" The protest felt wrenched from her lips. Her body ached, roared, flamed. She needed his touch, needed to be allowed release or she might explode from sexual overload.

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"Yes, sweetheart?" His eyes glinted mischievously as he moved away from her. "You’re driving me crazy!" she ground through clenched teeth. "Do you want to cum, Alexis?" He began to trace the outside of her pussy lips with the tips of his fingers, softly exploring, memorizing. She squirmed, one hand clasped on the back of the sofa, the other with a death grip on the armrest behind her head. "Yes," she said on a gush of air. "Please." He smiled, nodded slightly as he pushed both hands flat under her buttocks, lifting her as his head lowered between her legs. Still, he wasn’t through tormenting her. He licked the inside of her thigh, down to the outer edge of her lips. "Cayman, please," she pleaded again, wiggling beneath him. "Please what, Alexis?" he asked and his hot breath against her sex was a new kind of torture. "Lick me, eat me, make me cum." "There." His smile turned triumphant. "That's what I wanted to hear." The shock of the perverse words, of his victorious satisfaction, only had a second to register before his tongue delved between her wet folds. His hands moved beneath her, spreading her open as he licked his way down her clitoris to her eagerly awaiting vagina. When his tongue entered her, she went mindless. Her eyes closed and everything around her disappeared. All she could think of was the excruciating pleasure shooting through her body as he fucked her with his tongue. She ran a hand through his hair, fingers lacing in the silky curls as she pushed his face into her. Her hips moved with him, settling into the moderate tempo he set. When he brought one hand around, pressed a thumb to her clit and caressed with pressured strokes, she could hold back no longer. She exploded, jerking, groaning, completely breathless. He continued to lick her, slurping up her cum as it spewed out of her. **** Cayman's hands gripped the steering wheel. Streetlights cut through the darkness inside the car seeming more like strobes at the speed he traveled. He barely registered the stale yellow traffic light as he approached, briefly

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noted the absence of other cars as he sailed through the intersection just as the light moved to red. When the mist began to swirl from the floorboard of the two-seater sports car, he wasn't alarmed. Creative, he thought instead, as the mist settled in the passenger seat, particles forming as one, and Freya materialized beside him. He shot her a glance, scowled, returned his attention to the road. He didn't want to talk to her now, would have preferred to be alone with his thoughts, his bubbling anger, the low hum of desire that ran through his veins like a warm summer spring. "You should watch your speed," Freya cautioned him casually. "Unless, of course, you would prefer to watch a cop write you a ticket instead." "Don't tell me how to drive," Cayman snapped and continued to hold the car at an almost steady seventy-five despite the black and white posted signs of fifty. He liked to drive fast, needed the speed, the control, the rush right now more than he needed a pesky Goddess's interference. "Nice car," Freya commented. One of her cats leapt from her feet on the floorboard to sit in her lap. The other took up a place on the back of the seat, carefully curling around the headrest. Cayman looked at them both with narrowed eyes. "Yes, it is. The upholstery is genuine leather too so keep the cats’ claws out of it." A clear picture formed in his mind, tiny holes, deep claw marks in the smooth seats of his treasured Porsche, and he winced. "I assure you they are both well behaved and you will find no trace of them after we are gone," Freya said calmly, her slim, delicate hand idly stroking the gray fur of the cat in her lap. Both cats snarled at him as if they were actually offended. He got the sudden impression they would far rather sink their claws into him right about now than his precious leather seats. "Not even a stray hair." "They're both female, I take it." "No," Freya's laughter bubbled. "They are mates, one female," her hand moved between the cat's ears for a playful scratch. "One male." She reached up with her free hand to brush her fingers lightly along the other cat's side. "She have to put a spell on him to make him acquiesce too?" Freya exchanged a look with the female cat that seemed to scream males. "No. There was no need for that. They are in love. So tell me,

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Cayman, how was your date? You seem a bit prickly for a man who just spent the evening with a very beautiful, very compatible woman." "I can't get it up." He hadn't meant to say it but the words rolled off his tongue before he could bite them back. He gripped the wheel harder as he spotted another traffic light ahead, this one already red. At this speed, he would reach it before it turned green. He considered running it, thought better of it, knowing he was letting his temper and embarrassment get the better of him, and took his foot off the gas. "You can't get…" Freya repeated slowly then let the rest of the words trail away. "I see," she said after several heartbeats. Cayman dared her a look, expecting to see her smirking, hiding a laugh. She gazed back at him solemnly, as if in deep thought. "I wasn't aware you were old enough to experience erectile difficulties." "I'm not." Cayman ground the words, his fingers tapping restlessly on the gearshift as he waited impatiently for the light to change. He was barely thirty-three, in the prime of his life, and to admit he had a problem, especially that kind of problem ruffled his feathers royally. "Though I suppose," Freya went on, a hint of amusement peeking into her tone, "that such problems can occur in men at almost any age. At least you can be grateful you live in a time when things like Viagra are readily available." The look Cayman shot her would have sent a lesser woman, even a lesser deity, dashing out of the car. So much for her solemn, deep thoughts. "You think this is funny, don't you?" Her laughter spilled over like a river of pleasure broken through a dam. "I think it's hilarious." "Well, don't hold back, okay?" Cayman muttered. The light finally changed and he punched the gas, causing the tires to squeal on the pavement before the car lurched and took off. Zero to sixty in less than five seconds. Gods, he loved this car! "Oh, don't get pissy Cayman," Freya attempted to sooth though her voice rang with laughter. "It is a minor inconvenience, is it not?" "A minor inconvenience?" Cayman almost bellowed it before he checked his tongue. Pissed or not, he figured it probably wouldn't be a good idea to scream at a Goddess. Even when said Goddess was being

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meddlesome, irritating and infuriatingly gaining her amusement at his expense. "I can feel…" He felt everything he expected to feel, everything a normal, healthy man who became aroused by a woman was supposed to feel. The moment his lips touched Alexis's, fireworks of an undiscovered dimension exploded in brilliant lights of reds, blues, greens, gold and combinations he hadn't known existed. Her lips were softer than silk, her mouth warmer and tastier than a Starbucks coffee, and her tongue… Goddess in Summerland, who would have ever guessed Alexis London would know how to do such amazing things to the inside of his mouth with her sweet, velvety tongue? He could only imagine what she could do to his cock. He had imagined it. As he'd deepened the kiss, as he drew sexy little moans from her throat, he'd wondered at the marvel of shoving his cock in her mouth, of her lips closing around his shaft, her incredible tongue licking the head of his dick, circling it, tasting it. The image in his mind coupled with her hands in his hair—Gods, it had felt so good to have her hands in his hair—the feel of her breasts against his chest, had made his balls tighten almost to the point of pain. Flames sparked to life in his blood, needs boiling in his veins, desire throbbing in his cock. Freya was watching him, a smile playing on her luscious lips, one perfect brow raised in question. It angered him more that she seemed to know, all the things he wasn't saying, all the things he'd felt that he wasn't admitting to. Of course she knows, you dope, he thought crossly. She's a freaking Goddess. And he was an open book. She'd already told him as much. "I don't need Viagra," he spat and, doubting it would do any good, he resurrected a shield in his mind, a wall around his thoughts, hopefully closing the book. "What I need is for you to cancel this dammed spell." "I can't. Besides, I didn't do this one." "What do you mean, you didn't do this one?" Even as Cayman asked the question, he knew the answer. He took a corner sharply, tires squealing on the pavement and easily righted the car. "Are you saying this is another product of the spell I tried, another ramification?" Freya nodded soberly, that dancing smile at the corner of her lips continuing to do the tango all the while. "It appears karma has a sense of humor as well."

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"Yeah, a very dry one if you ask me," Cayman said under his breath. He'd done this. By casting a simple little insignificant spell, he'd all but cursed himself, first leaving himself unable to get a date and then, when he finally got close enough to a woman to engage in a little sweaty body grinding action, he couldn’t get a hard-on! "Shit! Fuck! Son of a bitch!" He smacked his palm smartly on the steering wheel as he continued his tirade, cussing a string of made-up words he didn't even know were in his vocabulary. Beside him, Freya winced and her cats inched back in their places. "Now, Cayman, I know you didn't have the best of parents as role models but surely they taught you better than that," she said placatingly. "Besides, it turned out well in the end, did it not? You, shall we say, covered yourself well." "You watched us? I wouldn't have pegged you for a Goddess to go for free porno." At her withering look, he sighed and shook his head. "Yeah, yeah. Well, I didn't really have much of a choice." "Of course you did." She was right. He'd had several choices other than the one he'd picked, all of which had sailed through his mind like a speedboat the instant he'd pressed his lower body against Alexis's soft heat. He'd known something was wrong, felt it even as he continued to feel everything he was supposed to be feeling at that moment. He'd felt the hard-on as he had every other one he'd had in his life since he reached puberty and in reality, his cock had been as limp as a feather. Mortification had gripped him. He'd caught the edge of its string just before it snapped, just before he revealed all. He couldn't let her know, couldn't even fathom the embarrassment that would have caused. And Gods, what if she'd thought she was to blame? He couldn't let her think it was her fault. That was why he hadn't taken the first option that came to mind, the one that had him pulling out of her arms, muttering some excuse and leaving right away. Another option had been to put a stop to it, agreeing with her that sleeping together would be a mistake. Except, if he'd taken that choice and then fixed his get-it-up problem, returning later to bed her as he wanted, she would surely think him a nutjob. He'd stayed, decided to pleasure her instead and found, in doing so, his own level of pleasure. The taste of her, thick and salty sweet, gave passion

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to his tongue in waves he'd never known. The sounds she'd made when she came, the sheer intensity in the way her moans, first quiet and then growing as she spilled over her control, into his mouth, seeped into his soul and left him feeling… Well, he wasn't quite ready to think about all he was feeling. "I must say, Cayman, that you are off to a much better start than I expected," Freya complimented, her expression approving. Not ready to be pacified by her words, he scowled. "I guess I should send her flowers next." Flowers. He couldn't think of the last time he'd sent a woman flowers. Such a gesture always seemed too personal, seemed to say too much. Freya shrugged eloquently then, shaking her head, she glanced over her shoulder out the rear window before giving him an I-told-you-so grimacing smile. She and her cats faded away as the red and blue lights of the approaching police car cut through the darkness of the night.

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Chapter 4 A dozen roses sat in an artfully decorated vase in the center of her desk. Alexis's step faltered at the sight of them. Surprise mingled with pure delighted pleasure in her belly and a small smile unfolded on her lips. He'd sent her flowers. She didn't need to read the card to know who they were from. It was the last thing she'd expected and the last thing she should allow to get to her. Her smile faded, the joy tumbling to a quick and decided death, and she expelled a heavy sigh as she sat down, pulled out the bottom drawer of her desk and tossed her handbag inside. The vase was decorated with tiny suns and moons. If she hadn't already known the flowers were from Cayman, the vase would have been a giveaway. He'd gone with roses, traditional, expected. They weren't red as fit with the norm. Instead, there were six vibrant yellow blooms, the color of platonic love, of friendship, and six of a pulsating orange for passion and desire. Passion and desire, she thought as she folded her hands on the desk and stared into the petals of the nearest orange rose. He probably sent every woman he even remotely desired flowers, especially after a night like last night. Even as she felt her scowl deepen, she found herself wondering how many of Cayman Porter's nights ended like last night. Pushing the question aside in her mind, she buried her nose in the roses, indulging herself in their fresh, soft scent. She tried to think of a time when she'd gotten roses from a man and could remember only one other, when she'd graduated high school, and that had been her father. Amazing it would be Cayman Porter to replace the fond memory of her father to fill such a void. And it was a void, she believed, when a woman didn't receive flowers from the man in her life. Perhaps it was a silly extravagance, a feminine

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tradition of requirement and longing. Still, the lack thereof did cause an empty space in a woman's heart. Smiling once more, Alexis plucked the card from among the blooms, slid a fingernail under the tiny envelope flap and gently tugged free the note. Thank you for a lovely dinner, the card read. Simple and scrawled in Cayman's definite and messy hand. She read it again and again, finding herself more than half surprised he hadn't underlined the word dinner, or at the very least set it in quotation marks. Surely the sexual innuendo had entered his mind as he'd written the words. Dinner. Yes, and what a dinner it had been. Oh, not the Chinese food, though that too had been quite scrumptious. The dining afterward on her sofa, however, now that had been full of more passion and desire, wicked fear and even more evil temptation than she'd ever dreamed. Dangerous. It had been dangerous, what she'd done, what she'd allowed him to do to her. Dangerous and stupid. She'd sworn she wouldn't sleep with him and she hadn't. But even in that, she couldn't console herself, because she would have. She knew she would have given in if he'd only tried. Instead, he'd shown her pleasure and, oh, baby, the pleasure had been mind-altering, nerve rocking, spasm inducing beyond any she'd ever experienced. Even now, the mere memory of his mouth on her sex, his tongue inside her wet opening, his hands on her flesh, made her juices flow to lick at the flame that leapt to burn between her legs. It wasn't good to let herself become so caught up in the memory, she told herself, even though she'd done just that nearly every second since he'd left her apartment. Talk about obsessive! It wasn't good to allow herself to become so taken by Cayman Porter. It was exactly the thing she'd struggled to avoid since Day One and listen to her now, unable to think of anything except him, his hands, his mouth. Look at her now with her nose buried in a dozen roses that came from him. Pathetic, she decided, and picked up the vase, moved it out of the way of her computer monitor. She was being pathetic and foolish. With a heavy sigh, she clicked at the mouse, jumped online and began scrolling through her personal e-mail inbox. A subject line marked “Re: Second interview requested,” sparked a skip in her heartbeat as well as her curiosity. Clicking the tiny envelope icon beside the subject, she opened the e-mail and read it.

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Alexis wasn't surprised by the contents, the message, or the request. She was a shoo-in for the position with the Twenley Agency. That had never been an issue in her mind. So they wanted a second interview. It was merely a formality, she knew, a way to test the waters, see how badly she really wanted the job. And that was a question she'd yet to fully answer herself. With another click of the mouse, she saved and closed the e-mail, moving on to the next of the ten or so that had come through in the night. Distracted, she quickly scanned and discarded with only a small portion of her attention, then closed the screen name and bumped over to her business net box. Cayman's handsome face occupied her thoughts, her vision. She could still feel his hands skimming like a warming breeze along her flesh. If she took the job, she would have to leave him behind. The moment the thought popped into her head, she cursed under her breath. Cayman Porter should have absolutely no bearing on whether or not she signed on with the Twenley Agency. He didn't have any influence over her decision. It galled her that she would consider even for half a second dismissing an opportunity for the sole purpose of getting eaten-out by a shameless pig. No matter how unspeakably incredible it had felt. She'd given her body, in part at least, to him. That didn't mean she'd given him her heart and it didn't mean she would give him her future either. Not that he would want it, she reminded herself. Despite the magic she'd felt pass between them last night, the pull she'd felt to him, she was certain he wanted nothing more from her today then he ever had. Their little romp, of a sort, on her sofa and all the wining and dining that led up to that moment, had been nothing more than a prelude to what he truly wanted, a ploy to get her into bed, a product of his irresistible charm. When the phone at her elbow rang, she jumped like a spring uncoiling and let out another string of low curses. Anger boiled inside her just below the surface, all of it aimed at herself. Oh, she would've liked to blame him for it but she knew the cause was all her. She'd allowed him to touch her, to get inside her and allowed herself to want him, to hope, to dream of him. Frustrated, she snatched up the phone. "Alexis London." She kept her tone business-like, professional, friendly, letting no trace of her desperation or anger show. Now was not the time or place for regrets or recriminations. She could indulge in plenty of that later over a tub of Ben & Jerry's ice cream when she was alone.

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"Good morning." Cayman's voice drifted through the phone like a smooth breath of air, wafting over her, seeping into her, warming her to the bone even as goose pimples of desire covered her skin. "Good morning yourself," she responded calmly, coolly, though not so much as to raise suspicions. Because they were practically staring her in the face, she added, "Thank you for the flowers. They're lovely, though you really shouldn't have." "Have dinner with me tonight." It was almost an order, and it made her heart trip. Nothing like getting right to the point, she decided. Dinner. Exactly what type of dinner did he have in mind? When the vision of herself on her back, Cayman's head between her legs, her hands on him—one on his shoulder, nails digging into flesh, the other in his hair, urging his face down, his tongue deeper inside her—swam into her mind, she ruthlessly pushed it away. "Thank you, but no. Last night was…" She hesitated, unsure of the adjective she wanted to use. Amazing, stupendous, surprising, orgasmic all came to mind along with one word that shouted above all others: mistake. "I don't think—" "Do you have other plans?" "Well, uh, not exactly but—" "Then I'll pick you up at six-thirty. Dress casual." Before she could agree or argue, he hung up. Alexis marveled at the shortness of the conversation as she put down the receiver. He hadn't taken no for an answer. Or rather, she realized, hadn't really given her the opportunity to say no. The part that baffled her the most was that he hadn't simply invited himself to her apartment again, or to his. He said he would pick her up. Yes, that could simply mean he planned to take her back to his place, but she didn't think so. He intended to spend this evening in a public place. She would be safe, then. Wouldn't she? Surrounded by people, she would surely be able to regain and hold onto her resolve against Cayman's charms. Wouldn't she? She would be able to keep a clear head, be able to know she would be stupid to let herself fall for him, to let him influence her decisions, her life. Wouldn't she?

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Because she felt the doubt like a heavy weight in her gut, she popped back onto her personal e-mail account, typed in a hurried acceptance of the second interview for the end of the week and clicked Send. Maybe some time out of town combined with the enticement of a better job offer would set her mind to rights. **** Cayman surprised her with a game of goofy golf at the amusement park on the beach. It was such a perfectly childish gesture, Alexis found herself laughing through the twenty-two hole course. After she beat him by a landslide—whether by design or forfeit on his part, she couldn't say for sure—he coaxed her into a go-cart ride on the speed track and it was so much fun she laughed some more. By the time they stopped for greasy, artery-clogging corndogs and calorie-loaded, cavity-inducing cotton candy, her ribs hurt so badly she feared their next adventure would be the emergency room. "Gibraltar called today," Cayman told her around a bite of his corndog. They'd decided to walk and eat rather than sit at the uncomfortable metal tables by the concession stand, both still bouncing with too much restless energy. Because it was a Tuesday night, business at the park was slow with barely two dozen people, mostly parts of a family, perusing about, playing the games or chancing the rides. Though she'd wanted a public place to be with Cayman, Alexis liked it better this way. People though not crowded, private yet out in the open. Fun. She'd needed a bit of that. Light, crazy and harmless. "And?" she prompted, shooting him a glance. No, she thought as her gaze fell on him, stayed. Not harmless. There was nothing about this man that was harmless. "He wanted to run a couple more ideas by me. These for the campaign slogan." He chuckled, polished off the last bite of his corndog. "I tell you, I don't know why he hires us to design his campaigns when he has all these ideas." "Because our ideas are good ones." Alexis reached over, stuck her hand in the open bag of cotton candy Cayman carried, and indulged herself in a

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fingerfull of the pure sugary treat. Just like the man who held it, she thought. Pure sugar and just as deadly even in small doses. "You have a point," he conceded, going for his own handful of the fluffy cloud-like candy. "Do you want to try that next?" Alexis followed his pointed, cotton-candy-covered finger and gasped. "Are you kidding? All that sugar must be going straight to your brain." It was to hers, she knew. She felt as though she was high, only it wasn't the sugar causing the effect. At least, not the sugar from the candy. It was the sugar of Cayman and she'd actually thought she'd be safe with him tonight, safe from him. How did it happen that a pig had been molded with such charm? The man simply didn't add up. It was completely unfair. Not only to her but the whole female population! Her nipples beaded as she looked at him, her gaze dropping to his mouth, remembering. Yes, definitely unfair. "I've seen you shooting longing glances in that direction all night. I've never tried bungee jumping myself. It looks like fun." He shrugged, licked the cotton candy from his fingertip and caused a bolt of electric arousal to move through her so hot and sharp she nearly moaned from the sensation. "Come on," he urged, that wicked, boyish grin she found to be such a turnon tilting his lips. "You know you want to." Yes, she wanted to all right, though the bungee jumping wasn't exactly what she wanted most at that particular moment. She let her gaze drop to the bag of candy, reached in for another handful, and pretended to contemplate his offer. The image that sprang to mind, however, had nothing to do with falling twenty feet in the air and everything to do with falling onto a bed. Images of naked, sweaty bodies swam into her thoughts, hers, his. She could see him hovering over her, that boyish grin and a handful of cotton candy at the ready. She could almost feel it, the featherlike substance turning to congealed sugar as it connected with her sweaty flesh, a sticky-sweet mess ready and waiting for his experienced tongue to lick it away. "I don't have the nerve to do it," she admitted, referring to far more than bungee jumping. She sighed, sounding wistful even to her own ears. The temptation to make a different jump was swirling in her veins but she hadn't the nerve to make it happen either. "I'm too much of a chickenshit." He didn't say anything as they continued to walk, to munch on the candy. A companionable silence fell between them and it seemed neither felt the need to break it. Not until they stopped some moments later and

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Alexis looked up, her gaze fixing on the bungee jumper poised on a platform a few yards away and many high feet in the air. A black cord was tied around the jumper's ankle. The guy—from what she could make out given the distance, it appeared to be a guy—gave a little wave to someone on the ground and then dived. "I'll protect you," Cayman said softly, his breath a warm intoxication in her ear. "You'll have nothing to worry about. Go for it. I'll keep you safe." Alexis turned her head to look at him. She hadn't known he'd moved to stand behind her, hadn't felt his arm as it slid around her waist to hold her, hadn't felt the press of his body against her back. She felt it now and felt the pull, the magnetic tug she'd been ignoring all night, strengthen with a vengeance. It didn't occur to her to ask what he meant, how he would protect her, keep her safe with her up there and him down here. The promise and sheer certainty she saw in his eyes was comfort enough, proof enough. It gave her courage and made her feel alive, blissful and just a bit reckless. She nodded and watched the grin unfold on his too tempting lips. "Okay." Her voice was steadier then it should have been, given the circumstances. "I'll do it." "That's my girl." Cayman kissed the tip of her nose and pulled her to the gate surrounding the jumping area. Minutes later as Alexis stood on the platform, the cord now tied securely around her own ankle, the park attendant’s safety instructions fresh in her mind, she looked down at Cayman and heard his words again. That's my girl. Yes, she was his, she thought. For tonight, at least, she would allow herself to be his. With her confidence settled in him, in her decision, in herself, Alexis leapt off the platform into the night air. **** "It was like flying!" Alexis couldn't seem to put a cap on the bottle of her excitement as Cayman drove her home. "The thrill, the rush. Gosh, I've always wanted to try it but I never thought it would feel like that." Cayman shot her a pleased grin before returning his attention to the road. He drove like a boy, she thought as she watched him. Much like a teen with his first sports car, all cool and self-assured behind the wheel. He sat

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slouched slightly in the driver's seat. Comfortable, she corrected herself, with one hand idly stroking the gearshift, the other wrist resting on the wheel. Pure confidence and all man, she decided. Powerful, she thought too, and again remembered her bungee jumping experience. "You weren't scared at all," he commented as he eased the car through the gate of her apartment complex. "Because of you." Alexis turned in her seat as much as her seat belt would allow to look at him as he pulled into a parking spot outside her apartment, cut the engine. "I know what you did for me, Cayman. Thank you." He turned to her, his expression blank. Hiding, she realized, gazing more deeply into his eyes. Or trying to hide. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything. She couldn't help herself. She wanted him to know that she knew. She'd felt it. The second she let herself move off the platform, the instant she'd put her faith in the wind, she'd felt his power. He'd used his magic, used what he kept hidden inside him to slow her fall, to comfort her and make her feel safe. And she'd understood. As she reveled in the feel of the air around her, the looseness of falling free, she'd understood what his promise had meant. I'll protect you. I'll keep you safe. He'd used his powers to do just that. "You're welcome," he said softly, surprising her by not attempting to play it off or be flippant and claim to have done nothing. "How long have you known?" "That you're a witch?" Alexis asked and had to smile. "Or is it a wizard since you're male?" "Witch. I'm Wiccan. The term is unisex to us." Alexis nodded then pursed her lips. "Honestly, I'm not sure when I figured it out." It seemed she'd known from the moment they'd first met, but that couldn't be right. Could it? "I guess I just picked up on it eventually. The little things, you know. A pentacle here, suns and moons there, the smell of incense on your clothes or in your office." "That's not so much a giveaway to most people. I could simply be a Gothic guy or a man with eclectic taste." "I had a girlfriend in high school who was raised Wiccan," Alexis told him. "I learned some things about the Path from her." She angled her head, thought. "I never felt the power from her that I feel around you."

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"I've been told I can be an open book," he muttered dryly. "I wouldn't say that." In truth, she wished he were. It would make it easier. Wouldn't it? Being able to know exactly what was going through that sexy mind of his, what it was he really wanted from her. Then again, given her run of luck with men, it would do nothing more than complicate things and leave her feeling frustrated and alone. Two emotions she refused to feel tonight. The recklessness she'd begun to feel just before her bungee jump settled in again, a rush of empowerment that sizzled in her veins, and she welcomed it, embraced it. He'd yet to kiss her tonight. Except for the quick brush to her nose when he'd called her his girl. Well, if she were his girl tonight, she expected to be treated as such. Alexis reached out, her hand finding the collar of his polo shirt, fingers tracing the line of the unbuttoned V opening, lightly grazing the warm flesh of his chest beneath. She watched with great satisfaction as his gaze heated to near boiling, lust and longing filling his eyes, parting his lips, making him gulp. Last night—had it really only been last night?—she'd fought tooth and nail, as the saying went, to keep herself from having this man. Tonight, it was she who pursued him, teased him with her fingers, tantalized him with her breath as she unfastened her seat belt and leaned over to nip gently at his jaw. **** "Alexis." Cayman said her name on a breath as though it were wrenched from his throat, his lungs. He felt as though it had been. Something was happening, something he hadn't expected tonight, something he couldn't name. The air in the car sizzled around him, heating, making it difficult to breathe as her delicate lips moved over his jaw, his chin, up to his mouth. Her hands were on him too, one idly playing at the patch of curls on his chest left exposed by the opening of his shirt, the other delving into the hairs at the back of his head, dragging him closer as she pulled herself to him, deepening the kiss. When her tongue swept inside his mouth, he thought he might die from the sheer electrifying sensations of it all. She'd had her hands on him last night, kissed him last night, but this, sweet Goddess in Summerland, it had

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been nothing like this. Circuits shorted in his brain, leaving him unable to think, to sort through the myriad of emotions and sensations coursing through him. When he finally allowed himself to touch her, to pull her into his arms, she all but burst into flames. He felt her go wild with the desire, the pent up need he felt within himself, and knew he would have her tonight, she would let him take her tonight. "Alexis," he said again, hoarsely, breathlessly as he snatched his lips from hers to taste her flesh. He nipped at her with his teeth, licked at her with his tongue, and still couldn't get enough. His hands roamed over her, cupping her breasts through her shirt, feeling the intoxicating warmth of her skin through the bindings of her clothes. It, too, wasn't enough. It would never be enough. Not if tonight was all she meant to give. Don't go. The words caught in his throat, ached there until he was forced to swallow them down. He wanted to tell her, to plead with her not to go. He knew about the job interview, knew she was considering leaving North Carolina. Though it had been a violation of her privacy, he'd used his powers that morning at the office to see. He'd read the e-mail she'd received, saw the e-mail she'd sent back as response, knew it was more than a possibility she would get the job, that she would take it. A tightness gripped his chest, a pain so sharp and intense it made him gasp against her flesh. Had he finally found what he'd wanted his whole life only to lose it now? Dammit, he loved her too much to let her go. "Ouch!" Though she laughed, drew back a little, her cry of pain startled him, but not nearly as much as that last thought. "Sorry." He pulled her to him again, licking lightly at her bottom lip this time. He'd only meant to nip at it as he'd done before. The sudden realization that he was, sweet Goddess above, in love with her, startled him so badly he'd bitten her. Obviously hard enough to hurt. Geezus! "I, uh," he stammered as he tried to concoct an explanation. Her hand had moved up under his shirt. When had she pulled the hem free of his slacks? It skimmed lightly up his stomach, his abs now, her fingers dancing, caressing. He caught her wrist, stilling her hand. "I'm a bit ticklish there." "Are you really?" Her eyes sparkled and a wicked little grin tilted her sensuous lips. Only on the bottoms of his feet, Cayman thought. He would let her believe otherwise for now. Safer to let her believe than to reveal the truth.

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"That makes me wonder," she sing-songed as her hand began inching toward his crotch. "Where else might you be ticklish, Mr. Porter?" Uh-oh. Wasn't that all he needed, for the woman he loved to believe he couldn’t get it up without Viagra before he even told her he loved her! "Um, Alexis," he began, trying to grab her hand again before she reached home. "There's something I need to explain." Too late. "Hmm," she said, cupping his package through the thin material of his Dockers. His very hard, very erect package, he realized with another start and a surge of relief. Thank you, Freya! "You were saying?" Cayman buried his fingers beneath the back of her hair, pulled her face to him, and kissed the shit out of her. When their lips parted moments later, he wasn't the only one in the car who was breathless. "Come inside with me," Alexis whispered against his lips and her hand, still on his crotch, squeezed just enough to have his eyes rolling back in his head. "Damn, woman," he moaned. Then her words penetrated the sexual fog she created and his eyes popped open, focused. Stunned, he pulled back enough to meet her gaze, her very determined, very clear gaze. "I'm not going to ask if you're sure. I'm just going to tell you to get out of the car."

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Chapter 5 Nerves and excitement warred with the boldness she'd managed to muster and the desire she longed to abate as Alexis led Cayman into her apartment. She'd left the kitchen light on and it spilled through the island window into the living room, bathing him in a faint florescent glow as he stepped inside. He stopped on the small square patch of tile, leaving barely enough space for her to close the door without hitting him, and turned to her. For a moment, a mere heartbeat, Alexis allowed herself to look at him, simply look. He was so beautiful, if such a word could be used to describe a man. She'd never used it before, never would have thought to with any other man. She would have stuck to the more manly “handsome” or “gorgeous” adjectives. Though both were equally apt, neither seemed quite right to describe Cayman Porter tonight. Beautiful did. It made her heart trip, her chest ache. She was getting in too deep. It wouldn't do to forget what she'd decided about tonight, what she'd promised herself. Only tonight. She'd given herself only tonight, and with the rise of the sun would come an end to all these heated emotions and surges of dreams for so much more than she would ever have with this man. Because she could feel herself starting to regress, to second-guess her actions, knew she was thinking too much, she reached for him, and wasn't the least bit surprised when he came to her without hesitation. The look in his eyes did surprise her, however, as did the way his arms moved around her slowly, gently, enveloping her as he might a delicate statue or… A lover. She brushed that thought away nearly as quickly as it formed. She had to keep a clear, calm head about this. It was sex, would be only sex to him. It had to be only sex to her too. His head dipped, inched closer so infinitesimally slowly she felt as though she had all the time in the world to pull away, to consider, to think.

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Instead, she gulped and started to fume. Dammit! She didn't want slow, didn't want easy, didn't want sweet. When his lips finally, finally closed over hers, sweet was exactly what she got. It wasn't right. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. He was supposed to devour her, take her fast, get his jollies and leave her satisfied enough to let him go. He wasn't supposed to take his time about it, to make love to her mouth with a single kiss as though it were the only form of release she would allow him again tonight. Sweet baby Jesus, he hadn't kissed her like this last night! Last night, he'd simply rocked her world two ways from Christmas. Tonight, this kiss, felt personal, like she was all that mattered to him, like she was so important. Double dammit! Alexis felt her internal war near the point of full nuclear strike and knew she would have to assume the commanding role. The boldness she'd discovered out in his car returned with a vengeance and she welcomed it, embraced it, and delved her tongue inside his mouth. She took the kiss from sweet to scorching in zero-point-two seconds and relished her ability to do so. When he moaned low in his throat, an almost guttural, almost furious, out-of-control sound, she reveled in it and smiled in her mind. She let her hands take over, accomplishing the rest. They moved between their bodies, one grazing under his shirt, the other snaking inside the waistband of his slacks. If he'd had any question of what she wanted, of whether she was sure, she erased all doubts as her fingers dipped far enough inside his pants to graze the swollen head of his cock, to dance in and spread the pre-cum she found there. His hands, too, were on the move. Thank you, sweet heaven! They pushed up her shirt, glided over her back, up her spine, sending slivers of delighted electricity to dance beneath the surface of her skin. He stepped her back, pushed her against the door and shoved his knee between her thighs. Yes. Yes! Alexis ground her sex against his thigh and the intense pressured pleasure was so gratifying, so exactly what her core needed at that moment it almost made her cum. This was what she'd expected, longed for, she thought as he ravaged her mouth, pawed her breasts, fell into the rhythm she set with her gyrations on his thigh. His other hand fisted in her hair, tugging while at the same time holding her steady, controlling her. Yes, Cayman

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Porter would be a man who craved control. She gave it to him, if only in illusion, the ideal way to get exactly what she wanted in return. She reached for his belt, managed to get it unfastened and was working on the button of his fly when he released his hold on her hair, caught both her wrists in his wide hand. He took another full second to simply kiss her, the hand on her breast kneading softly, his thumb lightly tracing circles around her beaded nipple. Then he slowed the kiss, turned it soft and sweet. It was like a fire being doused with a steady stream of water. Not drenched as to put out the flames, but dampened to bring the blaze under control. Cayman began to ease his head back, to slowly break the kiss, and for an instant she let her mouth chase after his. When he laughed, a softly amused sound, she gave up and opened her eyes to look at him. His were glassy, bright with teasing, while at the same time dark with desire. They were a color she'd never seen before, a wild mix of green and gold with speckles of blue that struck her as so odd she felt herself falling into them, mesmerized. "Sorry," he said in a tone that said he was anything but. "I just thought we should slow this down." "I don't want to slow down," Alexis argued and managed to free one hand enough to dip inside the waistband of his pants. Cayman chuckled, shook his head and caught her wrist again, this time moving both her hands up between their bodies, several inches above his waistband. He let go of her breast this time in favor of cupping the side of her face in his warm palm. The amusement on his lips, in his eyes, gave way to something serious, sensual and purely wicked. Alexis felt that wickedness swirl in her belly as her breath came in ragged, uneven spurts. Simply looking at this man could make her hyperventilate! What in the world had ever possessed her to think she would be safe with him tonight? In public or private, under her control or not, he was a devilish temptation that demanded she be bad. It was the softness, the contemplative decisions she saw deeper in the depths of those eyes that had her falling further. And the longer he stood there simply gazing at her, holding her, the more she felt the wall around her heart begin to thin. "Last night was for you," he told her in a voice barely above a whisper. "Tonight will be for me."

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She opened her mouth to speak, closed it again. She’d figured tonight would be for both of them. He would be rewarded with a quick, sweaty roll between the sheets, another notch to add to his belt, and she would walk away with the satisfaction of knowing she'd finally got him out of her system. But now… "Why don't we take this to your bedroom?" he suggested, his fingers caressing her earlobe, the sensitive skin behind her ear, the narrow patch of flesh at her hairline. "I want you laying down, want you comfortable when I take you." Speechless, her mind reeling, Alexis nodded. Only then did he free one of her hands, keeping the other enveloped in his as she led him down the short hallway to her bedroom. He stopped her when she reached for the light switch. "Do you have any candles? I love the way you look in candlelight." Candles. Funny how such a simple, casual word could make her pulse jump in both anticipation and alarm. "On the dresser and," she swallowed, took a calming breath, "the bedside tables. If you will let go of my hand, I'll get some matches." "There's no need." Though the room was dark as pitch, she could just make out his eyes, see the sparkle of blue in them like the reflection of stars on an ocean at night. She felt his free hand move very slightly and then, with his gaze on her, he smiled as the candles on the nightstands flickered to life. Alexis swallowed a gasp of surprise and cocked an eyebrow at him. He shrugged and smiled even wider. "I figured since you know about me, who I am, what I am, it wouldn't bother you." Alexis considered him and realized, quite possibly for the first time in the year she'd known this man, that he loved who and what he was. For some reason, she found that comforting and completely sexy. Maybe he was a playboy, a pig, a charmer, but above all else, he was a witch with a deep devotion to his craft, a dedication to that which made him who he was. Because that knowledge put a small fracture in that wall around her heart, she bit her lip thoughtfully and went for humor. "So, you just wave your hand a bit and voila, there's fire? Kind of like Obi-Wan Kenobi. ‘You are a candle and you will light for me.’ "

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"Not quite, though I suppose the concept is similar." His grin slowly faded, his expression returning to that too-serious Cayman who made her toes tingle, her heart skip, and alarm bells sound in her mind. "Does it bother you?" "No." What bothered her was all of this, everything that had transpired between them since she’d brought him inside. She'd half expected to be panting on the living room floor by now, sweaty and sated after a bout of marathon sex. At the very least, she'd figured they would be naked and well on their way to full penetration. Instead, she'd barely managed to get his belt unfastened and steal a few teasing swipes of her finger over the tip of his cock. He kept stopping them, changing the mood, taking control. She would have preferred the overhead light. The candles made the scene so romantic, so personal. Another change he'd made to her proposed idea of this moment. She glanced at her bed, winced. Clothes were strewn over the side, the foot, and her comforter was bunched to one side as though she’d just crawled out of bed from a restless night’s sleep. Because last night she had been restless, she reminded herself. Despite the toe-curling orgasm Cayman had given her on her sofa, she'd been anything but sated and satisfied after he'd left. She'd spent the night dreaming of him, wishing he were beside her, inside her, and when she'd awakened this morning, she'd found her mind remained as unsettled as her body. So much so that she'd tried on nearly half her closet before selecting the appropriate dress suit for work. The remaining tornado of discarded clothing passed through the small bedroom as she'd prepared for their date tonight. "You're nervous," Cayman commented softly, drawing her attention back to the here and now. Alexis nodded, took a deep breath. It didn't help. "This isn't going the way I assumed it would," she admitted. Then, on a half laugh, she added, "Guess we both know what they say about people who assume." Rather than speak, he simply gave her a crooked smile that was both understanding and pleased. "I like to keep a woman guessing." "You could teach a master’s class." She needed an instructor right about now, a bit of after-school tutoring too. If tonight had been a test, she was failing, her score dipping into the negative numbers.

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"How about you push all those assumptions and inhibitions aside and let me take it from here?" He took the lead this time, walking her slowly to the side of her bed, turning her until she faced him, drawing her into his arms. So gentle, so sweet. She didn't like gentle, didn't want sweet, but could tell him neither with her heart lodged somewhere in her throat. He left her hands hanging limply at her sides, lifting only to slide free from her sleeves as he removed her blouse, then falling to her sides once more. Her fingers itched to touch him, her palms burned to feel, to hold, yet she didn't move, couldn't. A spell? Yes, like what she'd felt last night, not a spell of metaphysical magic. This was far more primal, more sensual and, dammit, more personal. She wouldn't call it love, refused to call it love. As his hands moved to her slacks, removed them with the same grace and skill as he’d used to dispose of her blouse, she wondered how she could be stupid enough to ever love this man. "By the Goddess, Alexis, you are so beautiful," he breathed and leaned in to plant flowery kisses on the tops of her breasts, which were spilling over the thin lace of her bra. Alexis felt an invisible fist punch at the thinning wall in her chest even as slivers of electric desire rained through her body. She found the strength to move and lifted her hands, intending to free him of his clothing too. She wanted him naked and ready and inside her now! He caught her, gently pushed her hands to her sides. "No, no. Let me." His fingers found the front clasp of her bra, twisted, unfastened, grazed her flesh in a featherlike caress as he slid the satin and lace off her shoulders, down her arms, let the bra fall to the floor. "Just let me." He cupped a finger under her chin, titled her face and brushed his lips to hers so softly, so sweetly it nearly brought tears to her eyes. Then he licked his way into her mouth, still softly, sweetly, his arm closing around her waist, pulling her against his hard body. Her already taut nipples prickled at the feel of the cool fabric of his shirt against them. She found it a wonder she didn't hear a sizzle as the heat of her nipples met the cool of his shirt, meeting with the warmth of his flesh beneath the clothing. By the time he eased her to lie on the bed, she was lost in the kiss, in the feeling of his body pressed to hers, lost in him. His lips moved over her

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cheek, teeth nipping her earlobe before his tongue licked a fiery trail down her neck. Her back arched off the bed, her head lolled to one side exposing more flesh, begging for more attention. "You taste so good," Cayman said against her flesh, his breath another addition of warmth to the flames already erupting on her skin. "I've thought about little else since last night beyond tasting you again, feeling you again." As he continued to talk, to kiss, to explore and drive her mad with his mouth, he eased his way down her body, found the minute strips of material at her hips, pulled her panties off even as one hand moved between her thighs and found her sex. "Oh, yes," he moaned as his fingers slipped between her folds, into her. Alexis heard herself echo his words as he delved first one and then two fingers inside her sopping wet opening so slowly she thought she might die from the pleasure while screaming at the injustice of it all. Faster. It was all she could think as he eased his fingers in, eased them out again. She writhed on the bed, lifted her hips only to have his body pin them to the bed once more as he moved back over her. The pleasure was too intense, a gradual building of the fire already ablaze inside her and she couldn't take it, couldn't stand it. "Please." The word sounded torn from her, felt as though it had been. She'd never begged for sex in her life. Right now with the delicious, torturous things he was doing to her insides, she was willing to beg all he wanted and damn the embarrassment. "God, Cayman, please." She felt him wiggle, slip, slide, shift, and somehow manage to remove both his pants and underwear without losing a single beat of the agonizingly snail-paced rhythm he'd set with his fingers. He allowed her to remove his shirt, helping her with his free hand, and drove her closer to the brink of sheer insanity. "Please," she said again, her hands gripping his sides now, pulling, urging. "Open your eyes." Alexis heard the husky words but they didn't quite penetrate the chaotic fog clouding her mind and ears enough for her to make them out, to understand. When his fingers slowed even more and then ground to a halt, pulled free of her, she nearly howled her protest. "No. No. Don't stop. Cayman, please don't stop!"

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"Alexis, open your eyes." This time, his words made it through and she opened lids she hadn't even realized had closed, met his gaze. It moved through her hard and fast in that single instant, a sensation of utter belonging, surrender, and something more, something so much more she refused to consider what to even call it as she fell deeper into his mesmerizing eyes. "Keep them open, Alexis. Keep them on me. I want you looking at me as I fill you. I want to see your face as you take me inside you." Dear God. His erotically sensual words, his voice so deep and husky with his own needs and desires pushed a hole in the center of that wall so forcefully it made her chest ache and her eyes fill. Unable to speak, not sure what to say even if she could, Alexis took a deep, trembling breath, locked her gaze with his and nodded. He eased his dick into her, inch by gloriously hard inch, the pace as measured as everything else he'd done since they’d left the front door, and her breath caught, her eyes swam and she fell. His cock stretched her, filled her more completely than she thought possible, consumed her, easing inside her womb until she could feel it reach the end of her, and she fell some more. She gasped, moaned, tumbled in the pleasure, her eyes widening in their struggle not to close under the riot of sensations ricocheting through her. Geezus! How could anything feel so wonderful? He never once looked away, not even for a second as he claimed her. His hands moved to her thighs, gripping them, spreading her legs further apart, opening her more to accommodate his length and thickness. He glided deeper and she felt that wall shatter into a million tiny shards. “Are you all right?” he asked on a staggered breath. She nodded and he pushed a little more. Everything inside her opened for him, taking him, and when she thought she couldn’t take any more he thrust farther, filling her to capacity and beyond until he pushed his way through the flimsy door to her heart. A single tear escaped and trickled down the side of her face. "Cayman." The look in his eyes consumed her as much as his cock as he moved inside her, all the while maintaining that leisurely tempo that both thrilled and tortured, satisfied and teased, made her moan and beg, all at the same time. "You're killing me."

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A muscle in his cheek jumped, the only hint of a smile he let show. It was there, though, in his eyes, the knowledge of what he was doing to her, the triumph that he had her, and tenderness. God save her. More tenderness and compassion then she ever thought this man could possess. "Do you want more, Alexis?" He eased his cock out of her, leaving only the head inside her burning opening. She wiggled, writhed, trying desperately to pull his cock deeper. He held himself just out of reach. "Yes. Yes!" "Do you want to cum?" He entered her again, slowly, inch by inch, teasing, tormenting until she thought for certain it would kill her. Murdered by lack of speed during sex. She could actually picture the obituary headlines. "I want to explode!" He laughed and stopped again, his cock halfway home. An expression crossed his face, a quick flash of gathering, as if he were collecting his thoughts. "Then explode for me, baby." He plunged the rest of the way into her, one single vicious thrust that had her body arching beneath him. Alexis heard herself cry out before she could stop the sound, barely had enough time to draw in a breath before he repeated the move. Then he took her hard and fast, until she was panting and near the edge of pleasurable screams so intense her vision wavered and her body ceased. When he reached between their bodies, found her swollen clit with his thumb, she knew she was a goner. "Cayman. Cayman!" "That's it, baby. Explode for me." She did. In violent spasms that rocked and controlled her body, brought amazing lights of color to her sight, crashed with sounds in her ears she couldn't decipher, she exploded. **** Cayman watched her, waited. She looked like a Goddess, he decided. Just now with a silky sheen of sweat covering her lightly bronzed skin, catching the flickering candlelight in a way that had her glowing, well, like a Goddess. A very spent, very sated Goddess, he mused as he listened to her rapid breaths, felt the pounding of her heart in time with his. He let her lay there for several long minutes, excruciatingly long minutes to his throbbing

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cock, giving her a moment to recover if only a miniscule portion of the movement, breathing and thinking abilities he felt fairly certain she'd lost amid the orgasmic wave that crashed into her. The orgasmic wave he'd created for her. He felt a smug satisfaction kick in his belly at that and let it keep on kicking. When a man brought that much delighted, sweat inducing pleasure to a woman, he deserved to be a little smug about it. Her eyes fluttered open, her gaze landing on his, and he watched her focus take hold. Goddess, she was beautiful. He'd always thought so. Why had it never affected him this way before now? When he heard a niggling, decidedly female voice speak in his mind, "You weren't ready before now," he pushed it away with a thought. Goodbye, Freya. Now was certainly not the time to deal with her. They would have to talk again though. Very, very soon, he decided. And he would choose when because her timing really sucked. The last thing he wanted right now was an audience, especially one made up of a freakin’ deity! Alexis licked her lips and he felt the visceral effect of that silky tongue gliding over her bottom lip all the way in his cock. "That was…" She pushed out a breath, smiled up at him. "Amazing." She thought he was through. He nearly laughed out loud as his gaze flicked to an object near her pillow that had caught his attention moments before. He let the idea form, take hold in his mind and gave her just another second to relax as her eyes drifted closed again. "Alexis," he said softly. "Hmm?" Her eyes remained closed, the sound sleepy, dreamy. "I'm not through." He drew back his hips, thrust his rock hard cock balls deep inside her and watched in silent, amused satisfaction as her eyes flew open, shock speeding through her expression. "You didn't…?" She let the rest of the question dangle unspoken though she hadn't needed to finish the thought. He hadn't cum with her and damned if he wasn't paying the price now. His balls felt like lead weights between his legs, his cock pounding harder than a jackhammer in concrete. He'd denied himself release for the sheer pleasure of watching her, feeling her achieve hers, and the blissful knowledge he would make her do it again.

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Rather than answer the obvious, he asked a question of his own. "Do you trust me, Alexis?" Suspicion moved through her eyes, followed by indecision, intrigue, admittance. "Well, I suppose I do." Cayman reached for the object, a silky pair of nylons, fisted them in his hand. "Put your hands above your head." Though her expression turned questioning, she did as he asked. It was a tricky task, binding her wrists together while laying flat atop her, his cock lodged deep inside her. The position forced him to put most of his weight on her and he feared he might crush her. He worked fast, tying and securing her hands together and wondered at the mixture of trepidation and excitement he found swirling in her eyes when their gazes met. "Call me selfish but this time I want it my way." He angled his body above hers, pulling his cock out of her until only the tip of the head remained in her sweet heat. It cost him dearly to continued to deny his body the release it so desperately craved. He knew the longer he stretched this moment, the longer he could make this passion between them last, the better his chances for… What? Exactly what did he hope would come out of this night? It was a question he couldn't quite answer beyond the obvious. That he wanted to do this again, and again, and again. He wanted her to stay, wanted her to want to stay. Most of all, he wanted to erase all traces of the unease he saw flicker in her incredible eyes, felt move through her each time he made an unexpected move of sweetness or charm. He felt fairly certain he was off to a good start, decided the best way to move closer to victory lane would be to proceed full-speed ahead. When the urge to touch her made fire burn at his fingertips, he outlined the side of her face, the curve of her jaw, the delicious bend of her neck, the wonderfully tantalizing angle of her collarbone and let the sounds she made, soft, teased and begging sounds, slide through his core. "I like having you this way," he told her and gave in to the urge to lean in for a taste, a quick lick and nip of her left breast that had air spewing from her lungs on a ragged cry. "Tied, pinned, at my mercy. I've dreamt of this, Alexis, of you." "Cayman," she breathed and he felt the reverberation of his name in her chest as he licked his way down the valley between her breasts.

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Emotions so alien they were almost frightening swamped him. He knew what they were though he'd never felt them before, knew fighting them would do him no good, knew they were the sensations tied to his heart, to love. He let them come and continued to follow the urges that accompanied them, continued to allow himself to feed, to take. "I want you." The admission was a hard one for him to make, one he'd never spoken with such truth. He wondered if she realized that, if she would believe it. "Then take me. Please." He smiled, felt that smugness tug at his lips. Yes, he'd done part of what he'd set out to do. He had her on the edge again, had her begging again, had her wanting. It would be enough for now. It had to be. For now but not forever. He had a far different idea of forever in mind. With his decision, his choice, his true heart clear in his mind, Cayman gave in to his most primal of urges and plunged his cock inside her eagerly awaiting pussy. The first thrust made him cry out this time, a low guttural noise that sounded as much of pain as pleasure. His hands roamed the smooth, moist flesh of her body, his tongue licked, his mouth sucked, teeth nipped and his cock took. And he gave. Everything he had, everything he was, everything he never thought to feel, had always been too frightened to feel, he gave to Alexis London. She writhed beneath his touch, lifted her hips to meet his thrusts, opened her pussy wide for him and met him stroke for stroke. She thrashed and tugged at the nylons binding her wrists and it sent a sliver of controlling arousal to compound in his cock. Goddess, he loved having a woman, especially this woman, at his mercy! "Cayman!" She used his name as a warning this time and he knew she was close. Her inner muscles clamped around his cock like a vise, squeezing, milking. He wouldn't be able to hold back this time, wouldn't even try. "Let it go, Alexis," he told her, the words ground through his clenched teeth. He wouldn't hold back this time but he refused to go over the edge without her. "Explode for me, baby." "You too," she panted, her gaze locking with his. "Cum with me." Cayman nodded and, eyes fixated on hers, came deeply inside her.

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Chapter 6 She'd gone into avoid mode. Cayman knew the signs. Hell, he'd personally invented half of them. He'd sent her flowers and received a kindly detached and brisk thank-you message on his office voice mail. He'd dropped off candies at her apartment, only to discover the place deserted. Though that too had gotten him a thank-you call, this time on his house answering machine. He'd waited for her in the parking garage this morning, asked her to join him for dinner and a movie, and was again politely, briskly, turned away. Three attempts in two days, he thought and tossed his pen on his desk in disgust. Geezus, he was on the freakin’ verge of stalking the woman! He thought of how he would react if a woman attempted to smother him that way after a single date and a couple of hours of sex and cringed as he pushed away from his desk, started to pace. Alexis would be leaving town tomorrow. She hadn't mentioned it to him, not the trip nor the job interview. Still, he knew and it was eating a hole in his gut. More, he'd realized after further thought over the past forty-eight hours, he knew the guy conducting the interview. It had taken far too long for the pieces to click into place but when they had… Forest Young, older by only a year, former college dorm mate, top ad executive for Twenley Agency in Jacksonville, FL, was hot on Alexis's heels to steal her away from TM Advertising, from North Carolina, from Cayman. Okay, so the last was completely contrived on Cayman's part. He doubted Forest even knew Cayman had landed at TM Advertising eight months after his own graduation and the man certainly wouldn't have a clue about Cayman's involvement with Alexis. As far as it went, Cayman thought with a regrettable sigh and pushed a frustrated hand through his already mussed hair, he doubted any of those statements were on the mark. As far as

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he could tell, Alexis had applied for the job, not the other way around. It was Alexis looking for the change. Not Forest attempting to steal her away. Probably to be closer to her parents, Cayman figured and, even though his own parents had been less than priceless works of art, he could understand that. She would get the job too, dammit. No doubt about it, the woman was good and Forest had never been one to overlook talent and brains. Yes, she would definitely get the job and would likely take it too. Unless… He couldn't lose her, Cayman thought and felt a fist tighten around his heart. All this time, all the restless years, all the women, and the one he'd truly wanted, the one he was meant to be with had been in front of his eyes for the last year and some odd moths. She may be in avoid mode now but it wouldn't last long, it couldn't. And as for losing her to Forest Young, well, Cayman wasn't about to let that happen without a fight. Determination and the hotheaded confidence he knew to be his best traits boiling in his veins, he walked back to his desk and picked up the phone. It was time to put in a call to an old college friend. **** Alexis stood in the center of the living room, wringing her hands as she looked around. When her gaze landed on the sofa and the memories of that night, of Cayman, came rushing back, she forced herself to look away only to find herself staring transfixed through the island window into the kitchen at the table, remembering. "Oh damn it all to hell," she muttered under her breath and stomped to the tower of empty boxes in the corner waiting to be filled. She'd gotten the job. Not that it surprised her. She'd known she would. Her second interview with Forest Young turned out even better than the first. She'd walked out of his office with the promise to begin work in two weeks at a salary that far surpassed her current one and a position full of opportunity, satisfaction and advancement. She'd walked away with even more than all of that, she thought as she began to pull books from a shelf, carefully lining them up inside the box. She'd left the interview feeling more confused than ever about Cayman.

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No. Not confused. At least, she really shouldn't have been confused. Shocked, surprised, awed maybe. Not confused. He'd put in a good word for her. An excellent reference, if Forest Young's comments about the conversation with an old college friend were any indication. Who would've thought? And okay, yes, at first she'd been dumbfounded Cayman would go through the trouble for her, let alone baffled at how he'd found out about the interview in the first place. "Powers at work," she mumbled and went to work on the next shelf of books, the next box. All surprise evaporated shortly after her thought processes returned. He'd seen an out, a means to an end, an easy road and he'd taken it. She'd given him what he wanted, given him sex, and now he wanted her out of his life. What better way to accomplish that, what easier way than to help her land a job several hundred miles away? Alexis wasn't sure if she should thank the man or slap him. She'd been toying with the idea of both as she'd cleaned out her office at TM Advertising, had very nearly settled on giving him a good slap for simple pig purposes when he'd showed up at her office door. He wanted to say goodbye. The trip in her pulse and the ache in her chest she felt when he said the words came as strongly to her now as they had then. It hadn't been the words so much as his tone and the look in his so amazing Jolly Rancher, night-ocean starlit eyes. He didn’t want her to go. She'd marveled at that deep meaning she saw in his expression, heard in his voice. Then she'd forced herself to snap out of the spell. "Stupid," she scolded herself now and shook her head. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" She'd wanted to see something in him, wanted him to ask her to stay, to beg her not to go. Because she wanted more from him than what he'd given her, more than she'd ever have. He loves you. Alexis gasped as fear slammed into her, knocked the breath out of her lungs. She whirled, eyes wide, gaze searching, and found only an empty living room. The voice, she thought as she continued to slowly scan the room. The voice had sounded so real. Not real, she told herself and clutched the book she'd been packing to her chest, made herself stop moving and breathe, just breathe until her pulse slowed to a gallop rather than a dash. Imagined. All in her head. She'd

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gotten caught up in her thoughts. She tended to do that a lot, became so lost in her mind that fantasy and reality seemed to blur as one. It had been so clear, so female, so comforting. How could she have imagined it so…there? He loves you, the voice had said. Alexis laughed and put the book she held in the box. That in itself proved she'd made it all up. Cayman Porter didn't love her any more than the Pope loved the Queen of England. Funny, I didn't know they found one another attractive, the imagined voice said. "Oh, just shut up," Alexis snarled, more perturbed than frightened now and slammed the lid on the box. **** "My, oh my. Cayman, my son, don't you look like you were hit by a freight train today?" "Beat it, Freya," Cayman said dryly and upended the snifter of brandy he held, downing the contents in a shot. "I'm not much in the mood for your company right now." "Is that really any way to speak to your divine mother?" Freya tsked but there was a trace of humor in her tone. "It seems you rarely want my company these days. Always telling me to beat it, or go away, get lost. Keep it up and I may have to turn you over my knee and instill some respect into your delightfully attractive behind." Cayman turned to face her, one brow raised in what would have been amusement if he hadn't been so depressed. "Delightfully attractive behind? Is that really any way to talk to one of your children? And I wouldn't tell you to get lost if you wouldn't keep popping up at the worst times." "Why did you do it?" Her question shook him, caught him off guard. Rather than answer, he moved to the bottle of brandy he'd placed on the coffee table, refilled his snifter. "You could have prevented her from getting the job. You wanted to. Why didn't you?" Cayman swirled the brandy in the glass as he turned. "If you love something set it free and all that. Right?" At Freya's sideways look, he

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shrugged, sipped, sighed. "I don't know. I love her. Geezus! Did you ever think you would hear me say that?" Freya's lips twitched. "I did. Of course I did." "Yeah, well, I didn't. But I do. Dammit, I love her. It's all your fault too." He rounded on Freya, pointed at her with his tilted glass. "If you would have stayed out of my life, let me keep living it as I was, I wouldn't have fallen for her. I was happy. Happy! And now…" "And now?" she prompted when he let the sentence trail off. "And now I'm miserable." He ran a hand over his face, closed his eyes and saw only Alexis—her beautiful naked body tied and helpless beneath him, her sultry eyes, the provocative curve of her lips. His hands itched to touch her, his arms ached to hold her, his body screamed from an agony so new and visceral it tore at his soul. When his throat tightened, he swallowed hard. When his eyes began to burn, he rubbed at them with his fingers. "She doesn't trust me," he whispered. "Trust is a very powerful thing between lovers," Freya said gently. "A necessary commodity. One that is hard to give from a guarded heart." "And that's the whole of it." His gaze dropped to the floor, to the cat that purred lightly as it wound itself around his ankle. "She trusted me with her body. Not with her heart. Not with her heart," he repeated, shook his head, remembered. He'd seen her tears and had understood them. She'd wanted to trust him, said she did, but only for that moment, only in that moment, and only in the physical. She'd wanted more just as he had. She'd wanted to give herself fully to him but hadn't been able to for fear he would hurt her. He'd tried to show her differently, with his words, with his touch, with tenderness and passion. She hadn't believed. "It's hard when you want someone so badly, when you give yourself so completely only to be turned away or ignored." Cayman looked up, met Freya's all-knowing gaze. "Like I've done to so many women in the past. That's what this is about, isn't it? This is more karma coming to bite me on the ass. It's the third in the repercussions of the life I've led, the spells I've cast." "No." Freya's answer was soft, absolute. "This has nothing to do with karma now, my son. May I ask you one last question?"

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"Ask all you want," Cayman shrugged and bent to pick up the cat, surprised when it crawled right into his arms. "I won't promise to answer though." "She has a nurturing soul, comforting. She wants to take away your sadness." At Freya's slight nod toward the cat in his arms, Cayman looked down into sea-green eyes as intelligent as any human’s. "I was wondering what I did to deserve such attention. Thanks cat, but unless you have Alexis London's heart under your collar, I don't think you can make me feel any better right now." "Are you simply going to let Alexis go? If you love something set it free and all that." Back to Alexis again. By the Gods, just hearing her name in the same sentence with the word “go” made his chest feel as though it had been hit with a wrecking ball! "Personally, I've always thought that fighting for what you want is a much better and more satisfying approach." Cayman stared at Freya, his divine mother, his Goddess, and knew that no way could he sit back and let Alexis walk out of his life without a fight. He nodded, set the brandy snifter on the coffee table. "Thanks," he whispered as he brushed his lips over the cat's head and handed it to Freya. He left them standing in his living room, almost mirroring female smiles of love and knowledge on their faces.

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Chapter 7 Alexis heard the knock at the door and considered ignoring it. Buried in clothes up to her eyeballs with a trail of boxes blocking her way out of the closet, she would likely break her neck making it to the front of the apartment before whoever it was gave up and left. Best to just let them go, she decided. She wasn't in the mood for company anyway. The knock sounded again followed by the chime of the doorbell and she sighed. Apparently whoever it was had no intention of giving up. Resigned, frazzled, and just a bit aggravated, she dug herself out from under the pile of clothes, stumbled over the boxes and barely made it into the open floor of the bedroom without breaking her neck. "This better be good," she muttered and stomped barefoot to the front door. Her breath caught when she swung open the door to find Cayman on the opposite side. Oh, not now. Please, please, please not now. She couldn't handle seeing him again, didn't want to see him again. More, she couldn't be alone with him, simply couldn't stand it! "May I come in?" No. Absolutely not! "Of course," she heard herself say. Shit, shit, shit! Not wanting him to see the frustration, longing and God only knew what else in her eyes, she walked away from the door, leaving it open for him. The soft click as he shut it behind him rang through her head like a nail shooting from a gun into her coffin. "You're packing," he said inanely. "I was." She moved into the kitchen, pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. Manners had her holding it up in offer to him. When he shook his head, declining the drink, she breathed a bit easier. Best for him to say whatever he had to say and get out. "This is all happening pretty fast, isn't it? New job, the move."

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"It's a good opportunity. Besides, I will be closer to my parents again. That will be nice." And I'll be away from you. While she couldn't say that part would be nice, it would certainly be safer than the train she was riding before she had accepted the new job. He loves you. She heard the voice in her head again, the same words, not as clearly as the first time. Now they sounded as merely a memory of a conversation, or the product of the imagination she knew them to be in the first place. She couldn't help but wonder, couldn't keep from wanting to look at him, to gaze into his eyes and see if any ounce of those imagined words could be true. Because she so desperately wanted to look, she turned to walk back down the hall instead. "I really have a lot of packing to do, Cayman," she shot over her shoulder, affording him barely a glance. Even so, the glance was more than enough. He looked…tired, distraught, disheveled. His clothes—a pair of ratty jeans, worn-out tennis shoes and a slightly faded North Carolina Tar Heels football shirt—had surely seen better days. Though she merely glimpsed his face, she caught the shadow of a beard and the dark circles beginning under his eyes. "No problem," he said easily as he followed. "Can we talk for a minute?" Alexis stopped halfway into the bedroom and closed her eyes. Hadn't this been a brilliant idea? The bedroom, her bedroom, was the last place she should have led him. She hadn't been thinking of that, had merely been looking for a quick escape, intending to return to work, to distract herself from his presence. "Cayman, I—" "I want to continue seeing you, Alexis." Alexis whirled on her heel, blinked at him, shock tangling with confusion in her muddled brain. "You want what?" He stepped to her and her pulse kicked up to the cadence of a marching band. His eyes, oh God help her, his eyes looked at her so softly, so seriously, so saddened and hopeful. "I want to continue seeing you," he repeated. He reached for her, skimmed the backs of his fingers along her bare shoulder, down her arm and she felt the fire rage to life inside her hotter and more intense than ever before. "I don't care if we have to do the long distance thing. I'll call you

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every day, come see you on weekends, whatever it takes. I just—" He broke off, shook his head. "I don't want this to be the end of us." Holy God! Alexis gaped at him. She couldn't help it, couldn't believe it. "You, um, want to, um, why?" It was the first clear thought to break through her confusion. Why would he, a man who could have nearly any woman he looked at in his bed with a simple smile, want to carry on a long-distance relationship with her? Why would he be satisfied with that? His arm slid around her waist and she was too stunned to keep herself from going to him, from letting him pull her against his body, from reveling in the heat of his hard angles against her soft curves. "Because what I really want is for you to stay. I know I don't have the right to ask you to. So instead I'll ask you to let me call you, let me come visit you." "Why would you want me to stay?" She was dreaming. She had to be dreaming, or lying knocked out in the floor of her closet, unconscious and having an imagined out-of-body experience. No way was she really in Cayman Porter's strong arms, gazing into his incredible candy-ocean eyes, listening to him tell her… Nope, it wasn't happening. "Because I'm in love with you," he whispered and brushed his lips to hers. **** It was like kissing a two-by-four, Cayman thought. Except this two-byfour was shaking so fiercely in his arms he feared she was going into shock. Then again, maybe it was his body that was shaking, inside and out. He'd just told a woman he loved her. He'd never said those words before, never wanted to. Of course, he'd never felt this lightness in his heart, this sense of happiness and pain, of needs so strong he thought he might break. By the Gods, he couldn't lose her. Please don't let him lose her! She didn't believe him. He could see it in her eyes, feel it in her body. How could he make her believe him? How could he gain her trust? She said nothing and her silence cut through him like a serrated blade, slicing him bit by bit. "Alexis, please, say something," he finally whispered when he could stand her silence no longer.

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"I—Cayman, wow!" She pushed a breath from her lungs, laughed. The sound held more surprise than humor. Then her hand came up to cover his cheek and the warmth of her palm seeped into his skin, drifted to his heart, melted his soul. "I would be so stupid to believe you." "No. Alexis." "Call me stupid because I do." "I know you think I'm a pig, that I use women, that I'm only after sex and maybe that's true, or at least it was before you. But I do—" He saw the grin unfolding on her lips and stopped, realizing only then what she'd said. "You do? You believe me?" She nodded. "I believe you and I, well, I think I love you too." Cayman angled his head, narrowed his eyes. "You think you love me?" "I'm not quite ready to admit that I do," she said quickly. "It's scary, loving you, putting my heart on the line for you. So we'll stick with think for now. I think I love you." "Good enough for now." Cayman kissed her and felt the emptiness inside him fill like a cup. A chalice, he thought as he licked his way into her mouth, reveled in the taste of her. The chalice that held his powers, refilling now that the spell had been broken. She may have been too scared to admit her love for him aloud but it was there, in her heart, her true heart. A love of equal parts, Freya's spell had said and this was what it had meant. He knew it, the Gods knew it and for now it was enough. Her hand moved to cup the back of his neck, pulling him down to harden the kiss and he heard himself groan with the pleasure. He let his own hands begin to roam, needing to touch her, needing her naked again against him, needing to be inside her, to be one with her. Their mouths tangled as much as their hands as they struggled to remove their clothes, her hands working at his jeans, his at her shirt and bra. Then they swapped, her for his shirt, him for her pants though he got distracted by her breasts the moment he got them exposed and ended up leaving her to discard her pants on her own. It was she who walked him back to the bed, laughed when she pushed him flat on his back, made his eyes roll in his head when she took his hard cock in her mouth and began to suck. Her fingers curled around his shaft, her free hand moving between his legs to cup his balls and he felt his soul slip away, into her, becoming hers. The sweet suckling sounds drove him

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wild as she took him deeper into her mouth, swallowed his length down her throat. She feasted on his dick greedily, stroking, licking, tasting until he felt himself on the edge. One more minute and he would cum. He could feel it tightening his balls, shivering through his veins. "Alexis. Sweet Alexis," he growled and reached for her head, fisted his hand in her hair. "You have to stop, baby. I'm going to fill your mouth if you don't stop." He tried to pull at her head but she fought against his strength, her lips closing around his shaft like a vise. "Is that what you want? Do you want my cum down your throat?" He lifted his head to look down at her, saw her eyes gleaming up at him, his dick buried deeply in her mouth, and couldn't hold back any longer. He let his head fall back on the bed as his seed spewed from him, filling her mouth. She came up licking her lips, her eyes twinkling with amused satisfaction. "Feeling better?" Her tone was as wicked as the grin lighting her face as she crawled over him, leaned down to plant chaste kisses on his chest, his neck, his lips. "You're evil," he panted, unable to catch his breath, unable to calm his heartbeat. "I like having you that way," she told him. "Helpless, out of control, at my mercy. I've dreamt of doing that." They were a variation of the words he'd said to her when he'd tied her hands the night he'd made love to her in this bed, the night he'd realized he'd fallen in love with her. He recognized them and couldn't hold back the grin. "Guess you don't need the nylons, huh?" "Guess I don't." He reached up, buried his hand in the side of her hair and pulled her down for a kiss. "Stay," he said against her lips. "Stay here, with me, in North Carolina. Call Young in the morning and tell him you changed your mind." "What will I do for a job?" Her hand snaked between them, found his cock already slightly hard for another round, and began to stroke him as they talked.

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"You could, um, get your, um, job back." Gods it was hard to talk, harder even to think when she had his cock in her hand that way. "I'm sure of it." "Maybe," she said slowly. Her hand picked up speed as she continued to stroke him back to erection. It didn't take much, a few squeezing caresses of her hand, a couple of flashbacks of what her mouth had recently done to him and he was there again, ready to sink his hard shaft in her soft, sweet heat. "Or you could become a stay-at-home mom," he heard himself say and had to fight to hide his own surprise. Goddess, where had that thought come from? Not that it was a bad one, he considered as he watched her eyes widen, listened to her quick intake of breath, felt her hand still on his cock. He wanted that, he realized. He wanted a life with her, a family. "Are you trying to scare me now?" she asked on a laugh and slapped him playfully on the chest. She wasn't taking him seriously. He could see that beneath the fear in her eyes, hear it in her voice. That was okay. He would prove it to her eventually. "Just something more to think about," he told her lightly. "Okay, I'll think about it." She waggled her eyebrow suggestively. "Maybe you can help me make up my mind." He laughed and rolled her over until he was on top. "That I can certainly do." He could easily convince her with a little spell, he thought as he leaned in to feast on her breasts, delighted in the quiet little moans she made. Then again, considering his track record with spells, karma and the law of three, they would probably end up with freaking triplets. Freya's laughter echoed in his head and he pushed it away as he reared up, positioned himself and plunged inside the woman he would love for all time. By the powers inside me times three, he thought, so mote it be.

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THE END WWW.TONYARAMAGOS.COM

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Bestselling author Tonya Ramagos spends much of her time daydreaming about one plot or another. Give her a cup of hazelnut flavored coffee and a keyboard and she is at her happiest. When she isn't writing, thinking about writing, or plotting what to write, she can be found taking on the mother role with her two boys and the husband too. She enjoys taking long walks on the nature trails near her home in Chattanooga, TN, playing computer games, swinging on the playground, dancing, and curling up with a good book.

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