Notorious in Nice

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NOTORIOUS IN NICE

Jianne Carlo

www.loose-id.com

Warning This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id® e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

Notorious in Nice Jianne Carlo This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Published by Loose Id LLC 870 Market St, Suite 1201 San Francisco CA 94102-2907 www.loose-id.com

Copyright © March 2009 by Jianne Carlo All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

ISBN 978-1-59632-904-1 Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

Printed in the United States of America

Editor: Georgia A. Woods Cover Artist: Christine M. Griffin

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Chapter One  “While I appreciate the view of your sweet little pussy, darlin’, you do realize that this is the men’s steam room, not the women’s?” Naked, lying on a neon orange beach towel, eyes covered by one forearm, Jenny Su-Lin Taylor didn’t react. At first. As the whiskied baritone rumbled into her foggy tranquility, she jerked to a sitting position. Frantic eyes darted left, then right, and took a frenzied sweep of the mists swirling around the small chamber. A thousand Japanese Taiko drums pounded a war beat in her ears. Blood surged to the rhythm, pulsing hysterical tattoos at her wrists, throat, and temples. She stopped breathing, moving, thinking, when eyes the color of storm clouds racing across a typhoon sky manacled her gaze. Fantasy and reality merged. Submerged. Thor, God of Battle and Thunder, materialized through dissipating, opaque steam curls. Naked. High, sculpted cheekbones, a square, stubborn jawline chiseled by anvils, her most erotic fantasy come to life sprawled on the marble ledge opposite. Wheat-streaked hair fired with auburn glints brushed the broadest shoulders she’d ever seen. One knee bent, the man leaned on a thick, muscled forearm, Popeye biceps bulging. He drained the oxygen out of Su-Lin’s lungs. Out of the room. All about her, magic pooled. Balmy condensation caressed her shoulders, the barest sigh of enchantment escaped her lips, and the world, no, the universe, pivoted on the mythical deity reclining before her eyes, glorious in his nudity. Su-Lin’s heartbeat cavorted into loud, insistent hammering, which swelled to fever pitch. She noticed small details, the way the faint dusting of golden hairs on his torso

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swirled to the right, a thick forefinger stroking peach-pink marble, his taut stomach lifting and falling. Around his neck hung a gold chain, and a dazzling pendant with intricate engravings punctuated a chest so defined, so Norse god-like, her fingers tingled with the urge to trace each ridge, tease the glistening wisps of hair leading to his, his… Su-Lin choked on a stifled gasp, but she couldn’t stop gaping at his penis, staring wideeyed at the mind-boggling span of the enormous weapon. Its satin head seemed to wink at her, a lewd beckoning. She ground her heels into the floor before her wayward feet answered its spelllike summons. All at once, fire licked every inch of skin, flared up her spine, and connected with her brain, igniting thought. She scrambled for the towel. Nails scraped the moist marble; she clutched shaky fingers around soft cotton and bounded off the bench. His size dwarfed all five feet five inches of her too-big-for-gymnastic-competition body. A warrior-resolute gaze examined every inch of her roasting flesh, lingered on her B-cup breasts, and his mouth pursed as he studied her overlarge nipples. His forehead creased, and he fixated on the triangle of sable curls at the juncture of her thighs. The intensity of those slate eyes had her hands trembling, her fingers fumbling to drape the towel around her chest. She muttered a Mandarin curse when her waist-length, straight-as-a-pin black hair tangled with the wet material. “You don’t have to leave, darlin’. We can always lock the door.” Propped on an elbow, the man angled forward, full lips curling at the corners. His cock twitched and slapped against a flat walnut belly missing the requisite white tan lines. Her glance strayed to testicles hanging huge and heavy against powerful, sinewy thighs. Eyes shackled by his thick forefinger outlining one round globe, Su-Lin licked her lips, mesmerized by the lazy self-caress. He traced a succulent path from the base of his penis to its glistening tip. A translucent drop formed, pearled, and hung suspended for long seconds at the slit in his organ’s crown. Only as the heady droplet trailed down the path his finger had taken could Su-Lin gulp much-needed oxygen into burning lungs. “My prick’s at your service, darlin’, whatever milady wishes.” Her subconscious noted the slight hint of Irish brogue, but her stare settled on his foreskin, which reflected the shade of his bronzed stomach. Seconds later, his words registered, but their meaning took longer to comprehend. She couldn’t manage anything more than a panted “oh.” The Pause button that had suspended her brain functions thus far clicked off. Fast-forward took over, and she twirled around, intent on escape. “I like the view from behind too, darlin’. That’s one fine backside.” He ended his pronouncement with a chuckle, which made her skin smolder even more. As she reached behind, struggling to find the towel’s drooping ends, jumbo callused fingers did the job for her, tying a knot at the base of Su-Lin’s neck. His fingertips scalded with each light brush; her shoulder blade, a vertebra here, there a slight graze of her earlobe, and she couldn’t inhale, couldn’t shake off a sudden paralysis. His thumb curved a path of embers along her nape and panic set in. Su-Lin shrugged away, threw the door open, and ran like a gazelle hunted by a tiger. Her hands shook like a building in

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the center of a tropical cyclone, so it took half an hour to change in the women’s locker room. She had to sit for long minutes after buckling her sandals until her puddling limbs reformed into bones, which could support actual steps. Tourists of all shapes, sizes, and nationalities filled the lobby of the Antibes Eden Roc beachfront hotel. She heard French, American-accented English, German, and after a while SuLin realized what she listened for: the Irish version of a Sean Connery brogue. Explosive lust, hitherto unknown, threaded from pinky toe to tingling scalp. Kaleidoscopic, brilliant images danced before her pupils, his lips on hers, those thick fingers caressing her breasts, his wondrous organ joining them into one. Su-Lin’s hands balled into fists, and she stifled a whimper as desire held her in thrall. What would it feel like? That broad weapon filling her, stretching her, claiming her. Remembering the rigidity of his penis, the blue-green veins throbbing, thickening its girth, her fingers curled and uncurled. Desire weighted her eyelids to half-mast as she threaded his features into every adolescent faceless fantasy. That jewel drop at its tip. What would it taste like? Her tongue slid across a parched lower lip, which trembled as she imagined licking the sticky substance. Salty, he looked salty, her Norse god. Su-Lin wanted him. Too tame a word, wanting. No, more an incendiary slow burn, a force destined to shatter every protective shield she’d ever built. Her lips twitched and lifted; he was hers. She would have him. After all, she had Olympic determination, Asian discipline, and patience. A sudden wave of giddiness made her lean against a marble column, and its airconditioned coolness sliced the edge off her feverish skin. Loud laughter forced awareness of her surroundings. The ache of lust morphed in an instant when her eyes found the source of the joyous mirth, a young couple applauding their infant’s first steps. Had her parents ever done that? Had they ever celebrated any of her accomplishments? Her mouth twisted at the memory of earning a spot for the tryouts for the national Olympic team, of running home to tell her mother. It hadn’t been one of her mother’s good days. Su-Lin shook her head. Not going there. Her second chance at life had begun and that warrior would be hers. Once, at least. He would be her first lover. For the last ten years, the male sex had not played any role in her life. This trip was her chance to balance yin and yang. To explore the sexual urges she’d had to suppress during her adolescence. Never knowing when her mother would suddenly retreat into silence or, in those first few years, drink to the point where she had to crawl to the bathroom, Su-Lin had to be vigilant at all times. Her natural curiosity flamed in surreptitious early morning moments after she’d discovered her father’s collection of dust-covered, graphical images of men and women engaged in sexual intercourse.

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In the last six months, she’d begun to notice the way men looked at her. For years she’d thought being part Chinese, part Swedish meant she wasn’t pretty, that belief reinforced by the small-town Caucasian population of Mayo, Ohio. But her lips curved into a wide, triumphant smile, she knew she had aroused her Viking, the proof evident by the blatant thickening and pearling of his weapon. Su-Lin closed her eyes and pictured the cut of his biceps, his corrugated belly, those weighty testicles, his finger outlining them. She had to clutch the round pillar to stay upright. Sticky cream coated the V between her thighs; she squished her legs together and only then recognized her lack of underwear. Stifling a groan, Su-Lin ordered her wayward legs into motion, intent on seclusion and panties. She ran into Uncle James at the elevators. “How’re you feeling, love? Aunt Emma is worried about you. You’re so exhausted. She’s set up all these spa appointments for you.” His jowls jiggled as he spoke, and she wondered, for the millionth time, at the physical differences between him and her mother, his sister. Annika Taylor hadn’t been even five feet, whereas Uncle James towered at six-two. Her mother had been slender and delicate. A tsunami couldn’t budge her uncle’s bulk, which had settled at his middle. “That’s very kind of Aunt Emma, but this hotel’s so expensive, Uncle, and I don’t need any pampering.” “Love, I only wish we’d known of your situation, how sick your mother had been for the last few years. We could’ve helped, found the best doctors.” Uncle James must have noticed her strained expression, because he paused and shook his balding head. “But that’s in the past. Money’s not an issue for you anymore. I’m working with my lawyers to settle a considerable trust on you.” “You know I’ve asked you not to do that. I’ve a degree in human kinetics. I can support myself.” Her relatives had insisted on paying for the trip. Su-Lin flexed her curling fingers and reminded herself to be grateful. “I have a job waiting for me in Mayo, if I want it.” “And what am I to do with all my money, love? Emma and I have no children, and our only living relative is you. Why shouldn’t I give you enough money to be comfortable?” He patted her shoulder, although thumped would’ve described his clumsy touch better. “Once the trust activates in a few days, you’ll never need to work a day in your entire lifetime.” His words, meant as a source of comfort, made her stomach hollow out. Su-Lin’s superstitious bent read his statement with unease. The old Chinese proverb about too much luck heralding a disaster circled to the forefront of her brain. “Jenny, there you are.” Aunt Emma’s voice couldn’t be mistaken, her low, husky drawl so reminiscent of Kathleen Turner in Body Heat. “Have you told her, James?” “No, love, I thought I’d leave that for you.” “We have a wonderful surprise, Jenny,” Emma said as she reached them. As her aunt’s voice receded, the elevator bell dinged. Mirrored golden doors opened and passengers swept forward, forcing the three of them to shuffle to the left. A man leaning on a carved walking stick bumped into Su-Lin, and she listed to the right. Two large hands gripped her shoulders, lifted her off the burgundy carpet, and set her down out of the line of the throng. The unexpected contact made her lungs stammer, and for

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some strange reason, an electric tingling skittered down her spine as large warm hands stroked her back. Trained to be polite to a fault, she glanced up, and up and up, and when her gaze fell on a gold coin dusting bronzed skin, Su-Lin’s toes curled and she swallowed air. Her Norse god. Bracing her hands flat against his hard chest, she stared at him, at his pupils dilating and darkening, making the gray irises thundercloud haloes. Everything crawled by in a series of blurred images, the combustible, momentary touching of their bodies, him murmuring something, her ears registering the sound. But her mind couldn’t interpret the words, too fascinated by his hot breath tickling her ear and the tangy scent of sea about him. He whispered again and seconds later his words penetrated. “What’s your mobile number?” Bewildered, she stared at him. “Your cell phone, darlin’. Give me the number.” “I…I don’t have one,” she whispered. His broad palms cupped her bottom cheeks and she ignited, fingertips sparking as they glided over the thin cotton covering his rippled pectorals. “Then I’ll have to be creative, won’t I?” He winked, kneaded her rear end one more time, spun her around, and gave her a little push to the left. Two couples facing each other separated her from her relatives. Aunt Emma and Uncle James circled them to stand next to her. “Ah, there you are. Terrence, over here.” Uncle James’s booming voice echoed throughout the lobby. “Jenny, I’d like you to meet Terrence O’Connor who owns the Glory, a luxury yacht, and he’s agreed to let us charter it for a three-week Mediterranean tour. Isn’t that fabulous, Jenny?” Three weeks with him? Su-Lin’s knees buckled and she slumped against a wall, not certain which emotion would win the battle raging inside -- breathless apprehension or clandestine cravings. “The pleasure’s all mine, Jenny,” her Norse god said, his hand outstretched. “Oh,” she breathed and managed to slide her palm against his. “Hi.” One of his fingers traced a line from the center of her palm and rested on the pulse beating at her wrist. She stared at their joined hands, paralyzed and electrified at the same time. He released his hold on her, and she counted each slight touch as he did, one, two, three. She knew he stared at her, could feel his eyes caressing her legs, her breasts, so Su-Lin kept her gaze fixed on Uncle James’s third shirt button. Her knuckles dug into the textured apostrophe of the paisley-embossed wallpaper as she searched for physical support for her quaking legs. Uncle James twisted the face of his diamond-encrusted Rolex watch. “We’d better hurry. Our lunch reservation was for half an hour ago. We can discuss our itinerary over the meal.” “I’ll meet you at the restaurant in fifteen minutes,” Terrence said. “I need to have a word with my first mate.” “We’ll see you in a tad, then.” Uncle James used the heel of his palm to guide Aunt Emma forward.

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Su-Lin followed the thickset couple but cut a glance over her shoulder, hunting for her future lover. Their eyes met. He wore an amused smile, as if he knew she would search for him and wanted to prolong their interaction. When he touched his fingers to his lips and sent a kiss in her direction, she stumbled, stubbing her big toe on the first step leading to a garden pathway. On autopilot, she never noticed the lush landscape of forest and exotic blooms shading the winding clay path leading to the Eden Roc restaurant. She snapped to attention when Aunt Emma waved a hand in front of her unseeing eyes. “Honestly, Jenny, you spend too much time daydreaming. Did you even hear what I just said?” The lyrical breeze, which swept across the open-air dining area, whistling as it whooped through a narrow opening here, rattling shutters against stuccoed walls there, couldn’t cool SuLin’s heated skin. Her aunt’s comment resonated like an insult, and at the thought, a wave of guilt flushed her flesh further. “I’m sorry, Aunt Emma. What did you say?” “I said we were very fortunate to contract Terrence O’Connor and the Glory for our cruise. The girls at the spa said he’s very particular about who’s allowed to charter his yacht.” “The concierge said he was the best.” Uncle James waved a chubby hand at a white-clad waiter about four feet away. “And nothing but the best for my girls, hey?” He beamed at his wife and winked at his niece. “Bleeding service in this hotel’s slow. Hey, garçon, over here.” Su-Lin cringed and sank into the chair. She winced when the waiter rolled his eyes and loped their way, his pace a deliberate, slow stroll. Over the last few weeks, she’d come to realize her aunt and uncle disdained anyone not of their class or wealth and treated people in menial positions with a derisive condescension. While Uncle James ordered their drinks, Su-Lin concentrated on the panoramic view of the azure Mediterranean fronting the restaurant. She inhaled the mixture of aromas -- tangy sea brine, fish, and smoke -- and allowed the scents to soothe away the surge of irritation Aunt Emma never failed to raise. “Make sure you wear one of your new outfits tonight, Jennifer. Your uncle’s classmates and business colleagues will all be there. We haven’t seen them in years. Don’t wear that oriental thing you insisted on packing. You’re going to be mingling with British aristocracy. Dressed appropriately, with those green eyes, maybe no one will realize you’re of mixed blood.” It took all of Su-Lin’s self-control and discipline not to bound to her feet and shout at her aunt. Instead, she geared her fury into a rushed, gritted pronouncement. “Uncle James, Aunt Emma, I prefer to be called Su-Lin. That’s the name I’ve used all my life. No one’s ever called me Jenny or Jennifer, and I really don’t like it. My name is Su-Lin.” Aunt Emma’s dark eyebrows slashed together; then she pursed her lips and opened her mouth. Uncle James elbowed his wife and shot her a shut-the-dickens-up frown. He faced Su-Lin and nodded, sending a ripple down his multiple chins. “Of course, love, if that’s what you’re used to.” His large, moist hand patted her small one, and she tamped down the wave of revulsion his touch provoked. “If I slip tonight, correct me. I

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want everyone addressing you the way you prefer. And if you do decide to move to Hong Kong and live with us, the oriental name will come in handy.” Live in Hong Kong? With them? Had he mentioned that before? Su-Lin searched her nonchronological memories of the past few weeks. Even if he had mentioned her living in Hong Kong, she hadn’t agreed, thank the Fates. “Have you three ordered?” Su-Lin jumped, and her head swung in the direction of Terrence O’Connor’s deep, husky voice. One moccasin-clad foot edged the chair adjacent to hers away from the table, and he sank into it, his long legs stretching out and disappearing under the pristine white tablecloth. “Just our drinks,” Uncle James replied. He snapped his fingers and said, his voice clear and ringing over the low murmur of conversation and laughter swelling on a cool gust, “Garçon, garçon.” She swept a glance at Terrence and caught his stifled wince, the brief shuttering of his eyes, and the slight pursing of his mouth. As if he’d felt her gaze, his gray eyes held hers, and the warmth and intensity blazing there made her lungs stutter. He straightened in the chair, shifted, rested his elbow on the table, and propped his stubbled chin in a cupped hand. “My first mate’s working on an itinerary, James. You did say earlier that you wanted to include the Greek isles in the cruise?” “Definitely. Haven’t done this excursion in over a decade. The wife and I are looking forward to it.” “And what about you, Jenny? Are you looking forward to it?” Distracted by the way the sun’s rays tinted the auburn in his hair to a fiery red, she startled at his words. He turned so his back faced her relatives, blocking her view of them. Su-Lin’s hands flexed; she slanted a gaze at the tablecloth fluttering over the tight black jeans he wore, the snowwhite linen caressing his bunched thigh muscles. She wondered if the pulse shattering every thought in her brain beat loud enough for him to hear. “Yes.” “Sir, you’re ready to order?” “About time. Three of your biggest, juiciest hamburgers and double portions of french fries. What will you have, Terry?” Su-Lin sucked in her breath as she felt his gaze on her. “Ditto. Add a Heineken to the order, will you? Jenny, would you like something more substantial than that glass of water?” She shot a surreptitious glance at Aunt Emma, and her shoulders slumped at the woman’s pinched features. When her aunt had found her having a glass of wine at the hotel’s bar last night, she had made more than one remark about young women drinking alcohol. “James, Emma!” came the shouted greeting from across the restaurant. Su-Lin didn’t recognize the couple coming toward them, but then again, six weeks ago she hadn’t known of her relatives’ existence, far less their friends’. The noonday sun outlined the couple, and even shading her eyes, she could only make out their silhouette.

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Aunt Emma’s lips spread into an unaccustomed smile, baring a chipped canine and two rows of ivory-rimmed yellow around the perimeters. She stood up, hands outstretched. Tanned to a shade darker than a Brazil nut, the woman approaching appeared all angles and planes, her small head perched on a long neck and an even-longer torso and legs. She looked like a cutout body with a mismatched face. Su-Lin stifled a giggle, but a peep of sound escaped. Terrence, in the middle of rising to his feet, swept her a glance. Guilt at her unkind thoughts washed over her, and she clamped her lips together. When Aunt Emma made the introductions, Su-Lin remained seated. She muttered hello even though she hadn’t caught the couple’s names. After shaking hands with the man and woman, Terrence slouched into the overstuffed wicker chair, shifting it closer to Su-Lin’s. The slight grate of wood on concrete went unnoticed. “Aren’t you itching to try out another head on that body?” he whispered into her ear, his warm, smoky breath fanning her neck. “One more birdlike?” A surprised smile twitched her lips upward, and she slid sideways on the cushioned seat to fully face him. And just like that the world faded away, and she drowned in those gray lagoons, tumbling into an Alice in Wonderland parallel reality. His hand slid along the wooden back of her chair, and one finger trailed her shoulder blade. “I need to kiss you, darlin’. Go visit the powder room. I’ll be there in a second.” Amid a stream of introductions, vacuous chatter, and drink orders, Su-Lin tried to decipher if she’d really heard those words, if this god of a man actually wanted to kiss her. She couldn’t focus, couldn’t follow the conversation, and her eyes couldn’t leave his face, his mouth. As he settled back into the chair, he said, “I’ll go first.” She watched as he threw his napkin on the table, white on white, thick fingers brown against the fabric, and followed his tight butt and warrior shoulders as he stalked to an alcove across the room. When he turned around under the shadowed arch and crooked a finger, she rose to her feet, muttered an excuse, and headed in his direction. He’d disappeared by the time she reached the arch and uncertainty tangled her feet, making her stumble. Su-Lin rested a palm on a faux-aged oak door to prevent a fall. It whipped open. She gasped. Terrence curled an arm around her, lifted her off her feet, and whirled about so his broad back held the door shut. One hand tipped her chin up. She blinked. Her mouth went dry. Excitement and fear crested and fell, climbing higher as their locked gaze strained over tens of seconds. “We can hook up tonight, darlin’. But I need something to tide me over.” His voice sounded gruff, clipped, as if words proved an effort. Su-Lin’s knees buckled and the arm circling her waist firmed, curving her into his body.

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His tongue lapped at the seam of her mouth. It felt so delicious and mysterious and magical. She went slack in his hold, eyes closing, senses racing to where his tongue made contact, savoring the way blood raced to each touch of his mouth against her wet lips. “Open,” he ordered, and she smelled smoke and oak and salt and sea. She obeyed, the submissive female part of her craving his domination. His tongue slid in and out of her mouth, tangling with hers, tickling a heady sensation on the roof. Her hands fisted his shirt and she wanted to be horizontal, feel the weight of him on her, rub against the hardness grinding into the V of her torso. “Is anyone in there?” A burst of knuckles rapping against wood seeped in small increments at the edges of SuLin’s mind. His lips left hers, he murmured something, and the feather touch of his mouth over his words flamed her body. She didn’t want this to stop. Her fingers crimped the soft linen covering his chest. “Jaysus.” He tugged her tight to his pectorals, and one warm hand slipped under Su-Lin’s blouse to stroke the small of her back. “Answer the fricking woman, darlin’. Say you’ll be a few minutes.” Voice shaky and wavery, Su-Lin did as he commanded. All at once, she realized what would happen when the door opened, and she couldn’t prevent a slight groan. “Oh no. My aunt, my uncle, if they knew…” Chucking her chin, he met her gaze and muttered, “I’ll take care of it. They won’t know. Where are your parents, Jenny? Why are you with your relatives?” The questions slid like a glacier through her soul, filling crevices with a familiar dread, one she’d lived with all her life. Gymnastic training stiffened her spine, and she concentrated on the next second, the next surprise, the next obstacle. “My parents are dead. This trip is my graduation present, and my uncle and aunt are my only relatives. I don’t know them very well, but my aunt will disapprove, I know it.” His thumb stroked the frown between her eyebrows. “I said I’ll take care of it, and I will. Now, I’ll go out first, and if the road is clear, I’ll knock once on the door. Wait a few seconds and then make your way to the table. Got it?” He balanced her chin on the tip of his forefinger forcing Su-Lin to meet his eyes. “Yes.” “I’ll be at the cocktail reception tonight. We’ll finish this later.” Finish? He set her away from him, his hand lingering under the curve of her breast. “We have three weeks together on the cruise, darlin’, and you’re in the cabin next to mine.” Su-Lin stood staring at the closed door after he’d left. She pinched her forearm hard, felt the sharp pain, waited for the skin to color a dusky rose, and still didn’t believe the events of the last few minutes had actually occurred. The reflection in the mirror above the marble sink told a different tale. Lips swollen and red, her slanted jade eyes glazed, her taut nipples poking against the sheer black top broadcast her arousal. Each touch, each scrape against the material made her nipples burn a notch higher. She splashed water against her hot cheeks, dried her skin, and held her breath when she heard the slight graze of knuckles on wood, Terrence’s signal. She opened the door, letting

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oxygen out in a whoosh when the alcove proved empty. In a studious attempt to regain control, Su-Lin focused on the smooth turquoise surface of the sea and a majestic white sail billowing above a sleek navy boat. Terrence stood when she reached the table and slid her chair away from its edge. She sat. He nudged her back into position, and her knees and thighs slipped under the white tablecloth. His hand curled around one leg about two inches above her bent knee and Su-Lin almost flew out of her chair. He must have felt her muscles tensing, for he gave a soft chuckle and rubbed a slow, rhythmic circle right there. Heat flooded her veins and a slight sheen of perspiration broke out on her forehead. She gulped down the entire glass of water. Conversation subsided as the waiter appeared with a busboy in tow. A sensual fog mobbed her brain and warped the twenty minutes that followed. Her uncle and aunt and their friends chatted and laughed. Aware of only the man at her side, his hand caressing her thigh, Su-Lin became oblivious to her surroundings. Even the bloody meat on her plate didn’t faze her. Bemused, she followed his one-handed consumption of the hamburger and fries, his every movement fluid with the grace of a powerful man comfortable in his own skin. “You’re not eating,” he said, and his thumb punctuated the statement with a soft press on her leg. “Shall I feed you? My lips to yours?” “Oh,” she gasped and checked right away to see if anyone had noticed, but her relatives and their friends proved unmindful of the two of them. Sending him a sideways glance, Su-Lin picked up a french fry and nibbled on the crisp potato. The strident tones of Chumbawamba’s “Tubthumping” splintered the tactile tranquil ambience of the Eden Roc restaurant. A violin strummed, the lyrics, “I get knocked down,” crashed into a sudden quiet. “That’s me, I’m afraid,” Terrence grouched, and he glared at a metallic BlackBerry lying next to his white plate. “Excuse me.” He swapped the phone for his crumpled napkin, rose, and strode over to the balcony. Taking his seat again a few minutes later, he shifted to face Su-Lin, one arm along the back of her chair. “I have to go, darlin’.” One forefinger slipped along the scooped back of her shirt, shooting sparks across her flesh. “Remember, tonight you’re mine. Say it for me.” “Okay,” she whispered. It was time, and fate had chosen him as her first lover. A heady thrill had Su-Lin entranced. She followed the progress of the slow, satanic curling of one corner of his mouth, the way his slate eyes darkened at the edges, and she wet her lips, ravenous for another taste of him. “Perfect.” He rose and threw his napkin to the left of his plate. “James, Emma. I have to cut short this delightful lunch. I’ll see you later on this evening at the reunion cocktail party. It’s been a pleasure.” Much to her disconcertment, he walked away without a backward glance.

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Chapter Two  From the second he set eyes on Jenny, Terrence O’Connor’s prick saluted. Before the battle even engaged between brain and cock, the little head that ruled any sexual male thickened in triumph, and from that point on, predatory prehistoric lust directed his every caveman-stakinga-claim action. He’d followed her out of the steam room, through the empty pool area, and into the women’s locker room. A throng of gray- and blue-haired women had immediately surrounded him. And like vultures pecking away at carrion, they poked and prodded his chest, his biceps, his belly button. As gnarled hands captured prick and butt cheeks, Terry vaulted out of range and sprinted to the safety of the men’s room. Superman never donned garments so fast. Her glistening pussy, those moist sable curls lovingly caressing dusky rose folds, was imprinted on burning pupils, and he wasted no time. European security meant upscale hotels like the Eden Roc required photo IDs for all their guests. Since a fellow Royal Marine managed the hotel, Terry had her name within minutes: Jenny Su-Lin Taylor. The credit card against the account listed one James Lockheed and the address of a Hong Kong enclave he recognized from his aristocratic boyhood. A surge of leprechaun luck heralded his pursuit when the concierge informed Terry the same James Lockheed had inquired about chartering the Glory. He could almost feel his prick ramming into her tight sheath. “When did he inquire?” “When he checked in yesterday.” The concierge cleared his throat. “He, um, said he’d read about you.” His gut nose-dived. “Has there been a newspaper article about me recently?” The other man’s complexion paled, and Terry’s jaw clenched. “When? Do you have a copy?” “Sunday last, and yes, I kept it for you. Was going to give it to you before you left.” Terry cricked his neck left, then right, while the man reached under the desk and retrieved a folded paper.

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LE MEURTRIER LIBÈRENT TOUJOURS, the Nice-Matin’s headline read, the words centered above a grainy black-and-white shot of him four years earlier. “I guess I should be grateful it’s only in the Local section,” Terry mused, his lip curling. “This the only copy you kept?” He doubled the newsprint, hiding the black letters, which spelled out “murderer” in French. “On the boss’s orders.” “Thanks. This Lockheed couldn’t have read it then, not if he arrived yesterday. Where’d he come in from?” “He and his wife list a Hong Kong address as their home, their niece lists somewhere in Ohio.” “Niece? About five-four, waist-length black hair?” Terry asked. “That’s her. Amazing eyes.” He flipped his wallet open and handed the man a couple of five-hundred euros. “I noticed. Room number?” “Penthouse, honeymoon suite.” “How apropos,” he murmured, picturing her lying on the circular oversize bed, one leg bent, luscious curves and folds on display. “Thanks.” A surge of desire overwhelmed him; he wanted to abduct the exotic beauty, take her someplace where the world wouldn’t intrude, and screw her brains out. Let those tight little curls between her legs know the minute his gaze flitted to that secret place, she should be hot, wet, creaming for him. Nothing in life to date had prepared him for his reaction to this Jenny Taylor. His Asian aphrodisiac. Two, maybe three minutes in the steam room, and his world had changed, focused on a single goal, getting inside her, pounding his possession. Leprechaun luck shone its merry green light again, and he’d managed to engineer the three-week cruise less than half an hour later. Three weeks. His cock broke into a heady jig, weeping precum onto his belly. Jaysus, he’d spent the night before servicing two women, gotten less than thirty minutes of sleep, and the mere thought of Jenny had him randier than a billy goat condemned to celibate purgatory. And to think he’d felt jaded, disgusted with his pointless, soul-depraved life minutes before she sashayed into the steam room. That black cloud of hair, those startling Irish mountain emerald eyes, that diminutive Amazon-toned body. One glimpse and he’d flashed to a firestorm. And still blazed, whirling in the dust-devil turbulence she’d raised. That kiss at the restaurant had been intended as a teaser. He wouldn’t have stopped if they hadn’t been interrupted. He’d have taken her in the john; he’d been so fired up, so fricking close to coming in his pants. Terry headed straight to the shower and jerked off. A man like him had very specific appetites. From boyhood, if he craved steak but could only devour fish, even if he consumed an entire boatload of catch, Terry remained hungry, unsated. The only exception to this was women. Pretty much one hole resembled another,

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frequency more important than any particular female. But masturbation didn’t work this time, and he prowled his hotel suite burning with need. Three hours to the cocktail event, he’d surrendered to the urge and gone down to the lobby cruising for a hook-up. Nada. Nothing, not one woman appealed. Even though he tried and had a woman in his room within half an hour, for the first time in his life his prick and his brain suffered a disconnect, one ready, the other picturing Jenny in the steam room, refusing to settle for less. Jaysus. Despite less than half an hour of slumber the night before, he couldn’t nap, couldn’t relax. Restless, uneasy, he went for a five-mile run along the beach. For some reason, his thoughts strayed to Ireland, to Arran, to the father who’d disowned him more than a decade ago. Morose regrets dogged him, and he pushed his body to the limit, sprinting the last mile to the Cap. Rolan Paxton’s marriage a few weeks earlier had started this internal strife. Watching Rolan and his new wife, Sarita, take their vows under the stars and the moon in Monaco’s Hotel de Paris’s Grill Room restaurant had made him malcontent. Seeing their mutual entrancement, their inability to take their eyes off each other, even for a minute, ignited an ache in Terry’s heart. As a boy, even as a teenager, he’d been a romantic. His father and mother set the example, the perfect couple, in love to the end. He’d always expected to end up married and besotted, and then came the headache that ultimately killed his mother. “Yo, Terry!” Harrison’s shout came from the side door to the Cap’s lobby. He strode up the beach to his first mate and bent over gasping until he caught his breath. Winded, but able to speak, Terry lifted his T-shirt and mopped his face. “What’s up?” “Got a text message from Geoff. He’s agreed to a charter for the Glory. We leave in three days.” “Fricking rotten timing. I just agreed to a three-week Greek charter leaving Friday morning.” “I thought we were taking a short break.” Harrison tipped his Stetson and met Terry’s gaze. “What’s up? Or should I say who’s up? You’re wearing that new-woman-in-sight expression.” “Give me the details of Geoff’s charter.” Harrison winced as shrill microphone feedback echoed around the hotel’s narrow beachfront. Drums and the discordant clash of an untuned guitar mingled with the high-pitched squealing. Terry shook his head and pointed to a narrow path through bleached rocks. Harrison grimaced but strode in the direction of the trail with Terry in tow. Neither man spoke until they passed through the well-trod tunnel, which cleaved the promontory in two. The tall boulders acted as sound insulation, muting the musical cacophony to a distant thrumming. “I hate karaoke on the beach,” Terry muttered. “Should be fricking outlawed as noise pollution.”

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“Whoa. Lookee there,” Harrison drawled and dug his elbow into Terry’s side. “What?” “By the kids’ swings,” he replied and pointed to a level area of the beach that sported one lone occupant. “I see.” Terry shaded his eyes, and a certain familiarity about the female figure tugged at his brain. “Some body on that sugar,” Harrison quipped. “I don’t know about you, but I’m for a closer peek at this sweetmeat.” Curiosity stirred, Terry fell into place, matching his stride to Harrison’s. The steep upward slope of the fine white sand meant they couldn’t discern the female’s features until they stood about six feet to the left of the petite woman. Jaysus. Terry sucked in his breath and held it, staring at the vision before his unbelieving eyes. His Asian aphrodisiac was so absorbed in some sort of exercise routine, she hadn’t even noticed their arrival. “Crap,” Harry muttered. “What the hell’s up with this? Is that sugar Asian with colored contact lenses? Son of a bitch, no one can have eyes that color and all that blue-black hair. I think I’m in love.” “Sod it, boyo. That one’s mine. Scratch her off your bull’s-eye.” “You don’t have to snap,” Harry grumbled. He whistled. “Will you look at that? Did she just do a split across those two bars?” Heels touching only, Jenny Su-Lin hung suspended between the two gleaming silver bars in a perfect split, perpendicular to the powdery beach. She rotated slowly so her head paralleled the beach, stretched lithe fingers to ankles, then levitated off the bars and somersaulted to the ground, arms raised over her head, back arched, pretty bare feet perfectly aligned. His heart settled back into place and fear gave way to fury. Terry jabbed one fist into his palm, letting the fierce sting dissolve the urge to strangle his little Asian. One wrong move and she could have broken her neck. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he noted the teal gymnast’s formfitting, high-cut leotard, which revealed surprisingly long legs, firm thighs, and a rounded, tight butt. It had taken the last fifteen minutes of running at full pace to subdue his raging erection. One glance at her suspended in that split undid the last hour of punishing exercise as his cock reacted to the mental images imprinting his pupils. Lurid visions, which proved almost as blinding as the glaring afternoon sunlight, made him blink furiously against its brilliance. Could she take him that way? In a split? Harrison cleared his throat. Eyebrows raised to her hairline, she jumped and twisted to face them. Their eyes meshed across the short distance, and she stiffened, gazed to the left for a brief moment, and swung her head back to meet his stare. She flashed him this saucy, impish grin and clamped small hands on lean hips. Her whole stance, chin tilted up, shoulders squared in a provocative come-get-me challenge, inflamed him.

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Terry tipped her a two-fingered salute and knew she’d milk his aching cock tonight. Ready and willing, she’d so much as said the words. “You know her?” When Terry didn’t respond, Harry elbowed his rib cage. “Earth to O’Connor. Who is she?” “Her aunt and uncle want to the charter the Glory for three weeks. That’s the charter I agreed to this morning.” “You and your leprechaun luck. What a sweet piece of meat. How old?” “Almost jailbait for us, boyo. Twenty-one, small-town girl. From what the uncle said earlier, she’s been caring for a sick mother. Trip’s a graduation present from the aunt and uncle.” As Terry watched, she toweled off, glanced at them, cheeks pinkening, and gave a little shake of her head. Dropping a cream towel on a steel bar, she jumped, hands clamping onto the high bar, her back to them. Swinging her legs faster and faster, she somersaulted the couple of feet between the parallel steel frames and went into a fast series of tumbles and tight turns. “Jaysus,” Terry muttered. “And then some,” Harrison said, shoving his hat off his head. “Kind of unnerving up close.” “Too true, boyo, too true.” “Shucks, Terry, you’re gonna break that sugar’s heart. And she has this air of fragility, kind of a sweet sadness about her.” “Until I saw that little performance I’d have agreed with you. Trust me, Harry, you can’t be internally fragile and have the discipline and determination to become an accomplished gymnast. Yet, you’re right. She looks unsullied by the sins of the world.” “She’s one freaking flexible woman. Did you see that?” In exquisite slow motion, Jenny bent over at the waist, rested her palms on the sand, and lifted her pointed toes off terra firma, spread them perpendicular to the ground, and paused. She pirouetted, raised both legs above her head, torso a perfect, still straight line. Each movement sucked in Terry’s gut until air didn’t make it to his lungs. “Three weeks ain’t gonna be enough, not with that sweetmeat. She’s blushing. When was the last time you saw a grown woman blush?” “Don’t even think it, Harrison Ford.” Terry’s eyebrows slashed together as he levered a scowl at his first mate. “That sugar’s marrying material, and I have a hunkering to settle down. She’s sweeter’n double-chunk peanut brittle, and there’s no way you get to be the only gunslinger in town.” Harry dusted off his hands. “Sod the cowboy prattle, she’s not close enough to impress. Don’t cross me on this one, Harrison. I’m warning you.” “Since when do you care who gets to pussy first?” “This one’s mine. Touch her and you’re off the Glory, indefinitely.” “Might be I’ll call you on that one. We’ll see.” “Boyo, you’d better fricking not be planning what I think you are. Time you got back to the Glory and earned your keep. I’ll touch base tomorrow. Have a complete engine overhaul done. Miss a trick and it’s your hide.”

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“Sieg Heil, Captain!” Harry said, snapped booted heels together, and gave a Hitler’s salute. “Tyranny so wins out over charm. But there’s a small matter of two charters at the same time. What’re you going to do?” The few seconds of distraction proved fatal, and when he glanced up, Jenny Taylor had vanished. “Terry? The two charters?” “I’ll phone Geoff and see if I can fob the other one off for four weeks.” “Your call. You’re the captain. Even if it’s blatantly obvious you’re thinking with your prick.” “Sod it, Harry. I’ll meet you back at the Glory.” Terry’s lips flattened as he watched the Texan saunter away. He had three friends in this world: Harry, his partner, Geoff, and Rolan Paxton. All of them would risk their lives for each other. Yet when it came to women, an unsaid gloves-off principle held, and he had no illusions Harry would target his Asian darling. The notion riled him, and he knew he had to have a strategic advantage over his first mate before the end of the evening. Even the thought of Harry pursuing her after Terry ended their affair caused his jaw to clench. He kneaded his nape and avoided analyzing the reasons behind this sudden surge of jealousy and ownership. For the next three weeks, the little Asian belonged to him and him only. Impatient, so randy he’d fricking come if she so much as licked her lips, Terry boarded the boat early and paced the deck, waiting, plotting, and cutting the time between greeting and screwing down second by second. He’d already explored the cabins below and knew exactly where he would take her. Women sensed his sexual heat. Each female passenger raked him head to toe, and ascertaining his disinterest, darted speculative glances at all the other women on board, wondering who was the lucky one. He ignored the visual come-ons. His lungs hiccupped when he caught sight of her sashaying up the gangplank dressed in a Chinese-style satin sheath. Each graceful step outlined her slender curves, and the emerald material glistened wet in the sun’s receding rays. She stopped in front of him, and he curled his hands around the boat’s rail. The temptation to kidnap her and steal a page from his barbarian ancestors threatened to overpower all rational thought. “Jenny.” “Terrence,” her uncle said and held out a paw. Terry acknowledged the greeting with a nod of his head and a brief handshake, determined not to take his eyes off her, drowning in her essence. “I know you two met earlier, and I introduced my niece as Jenny, but she prefers her Chinese name, which is Su-Lin.” “Su-Lin,” he intoned and raised her hand to his lips. Unable to resist, his tongue traced the center of her palm. His eyelids closed when she flinched and then melted into his caress. He could have eaten her fingers forever, drawing each one into his mouth, nibbling on each succulent tip, but she jerked her hand away, and his hooded lids flicked open.

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Those jade eyes wouldn’t meet his gaze, and she turned away, the side of her nape coloring a dusky rose. He drank in her profile, noting the contrasts, the Asian and white combinations of her unique beauty. Three weeks. Three weeks with her on the Glory, in the cabin next to his, which had a connecting door. His prick wept with greed. Terry razed her with the fervor of an addict scoping his next fix. She drifted out of his line of vision, following her aunt and uncle’s path to the bar punctuating the boat’s bow. “What are you doing here?” That cultured baritone, honed to aristocratic perfection, could belong to only one person. Hands jammed into fists, he shuffled right and faced the man he hadn’t seen or spoken to in more than a decade. “I live on a boat in the Mediterranean. I’m the one who’s supposed to be here,” Terry growled, his earlier exuberance morphing into anger. “What in fricking hell are you doing here?” “Watch your tone,” his father snapped. The man hadn’t changed, not a single iota over the years. Terry’s lips curled as he studied his father’s visage, full head of hair, now silver rather than blond, weathered face lined at the eyes and mouth by too much excess, and gray eyes that mimicked the dead of Antarctic winter. He’d been lucky to escape. A throat cleared behind him. Terry’s gaze shifted, and his stomach, always a barometer of his concealed emotions, listed and heaved, threatening to upchuck its contents. “Terrence,” his mirror image said. “Thomas.” His mind numb, Terry shook his identical twin’s hand. And what was left of his gleeful anticipation for the evening dissipated. “What brings you two to Antibes?” “Business. Don’t think of embarrassing me tonight,” his father answered. “How did you garner an invitation?” “They’ve chartered my yacht for the next three weeks.” Nigel Thomas Jefferson Patrick Gore, the Earl of Arran, flinched and paled. Terry’s eyes widened; for a mere inhale, he thought he saw fear and guilt in his father’s charcoal eyes. He shook his head, lip curling at one corner. The father he knew eschewed any hint of vulnerability. He must have been wrong. Leprechauns dogged him. Terry downed his glass of scotch, caught both his father and his twin’s disapproving stares, and spun around, headed for the bar, where he ordered a triple shot. Jaysus. Fricking leprechaun luck. Both his father and his twin when he least expected it. Ten years since he’d last seen Thomas, longer for his father. Thomas, Thomas. Terry found a solitary spot on the starboard, propped one foot on the rail, downed the tumbler of liquor, and flung the glass into the sea. The boa constrictor banding his chest

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squeezed his gullet, and the scotch traversed his insides one drop at a time, scorching a slow, scalding path. Even though the view showed a tranquil Mediterranean, it was not what he saw. Rage, bloodied limbs, Thomas’s sad, resigned slate eyes minutes before he slipped unconscious, burned Terry’s pupils. For the past ten years, he’d buried his self-loathing in booze, orgies, drugs, gambling, anything to mask acknowledging the lousy human being he’d become. One brief exchange was all it took. One glance and their souls meshed. He could no longer deny the damage he’d inflicted. His twin’s pain reflected in his eyes like an endless corridor of horror-house mirrors bouncing, echoing, so he couldn’t differentiate the person from the never-ending reflections. He’d become a mirror image -- there only if you happened to catch the muted likeness at the right time. Only Thomas could spur such soured introspection. Terry shook his head, ordered another scotch, and forged into the throngs cramming the deck. Old habits reared and Terry scanned the crowd. A woman, he needed a woman. Sex, a night of thrusting and pounding like an enraged bull, and then he would face reality, deal with the burdens of the past. Determined not to be thrown off course, his glance slid left, drawn to Su-Lin like Mars drawn to the sun. To his surprise, she met his gaze and tipped the crystal glass, her full lips curling in a trembling smile. His for the taking. He forgot his father, his brother, his life, and homed in on a single goal, sheathing himself in her warmth. Trying not to be obvious, Terry wound his way through the crowd mingling on the upper deck until he stood inches away from her. An involuntary shudder sucked his stomach in as his eyes swept the length of her back, delectable ass dimples exposed by the sweeping lowcut jade silk. As if sensing his presence, she sidled a corner-of-the-eye glance at him, and her pouty lips parted in a sultry half-smile. She sipped at the bubbling champagne, glancing over one bare shoulder at him. “Have you met Lord and Lady…?” He lost the rest of her question, eyes pinpointed on those large nipples pushing against the sleek satin. A brief flicker to the right unveiled a hefty, downright ugly couple. “A pleasure,” he said and captured Su-Lin’s glass. “There’s a minor issue in the kitchens, and your presence is required.” He set the crystal flute on a nearby high table and held out an elbowed forearm. “Excuse us, will you? Shall we?” Those searching eyes, their startling color, the absolute absence of guile, made him hesitate for a brief, imperceptible moment. A woman, he reminded himself, she was a female, a hole to be filled, nothing more, nothing less. Before they reached the last mahogany step fronting the lower deck’s main corridor, Terry scooped her into his arms She didn’t resist but raised verdant eyes to his. “I’m not sure.” That was all she said, and it stabbed at his conscience, those words.

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“Don’t worry,” he replied. “It’ll be okay.” He had to squelch all emotions to make it to the secluded cabin door without touching her, without drowning in her mouth. With a gentility he didn’t know he possessed, Terry laid her down in the middle of the queen-size bed. She rose on her elbows but said not a word, watching him dash his tie away, flick his jacket to the floor. When he tore his shirt lapels apart and buttons went flying, she put up a tiny hand, and his pulse pounded like a Celtic bodhran drum. “What, darlin’?” He could barely breathe, get the words out, and wondered if he sounded like the barbarian he felt. Her head drooped, and she stared at the white comforter. Without looking at him, she whispered, “I want to touch you.” Jaysus. He grabbed the head of his prick and squeezed so hard it hurt. He’d almost lost it, and they hadn’t even begun. Calling on all his military training, Terry shuffled over to the mattress and sat. “All you want.” That was all he could muster, and getting the words out almost undid him again. He took her small hand and placed it over a heart threatening self-destruction. Her pink tongue snaked out to touch the corner of her mouth. She shifted closer, the silk dress she wore caressing his flesh and tindering sparks with each slight contact. Tacky, moist sea brine wafted to his nostrils, and not an iota of it made it to his lungs. “I’ve never done this before,” she said, so softly he had to strain to hear her words. And then she could’ve bellowed, and he’d never have known. His heart sounded like immediate thunder in his ears, reverberations vibrating every nerve, every synapse. She placed the other hand on his chest and breathed, “You’re so beautiful, like a Norse god.” One finger traced the outline of his pectoral muscles, and his stomach contracted so hard his gut cramped and his prick leaked. So close. So close. “Darlin’ --” he began, but she cut him off by applying two fingers to his lips. She shook her head. “Please, no words?” And still she wouldn’t meet his gaze, and it bothered him, made him desperate for some sign of, what? Not consent. Approval, perhaps? Terry stifled his response and waited, watching, body functions going into trained military hibernation. With the slightest pressure of one hot little palm, she had him lying supine on the bed. Her hands flitted over his chest, lithe butterfly caresses skimming his scalded flesh. Her touch left him wanting, impatient. Delicate fingers flicked the right nipple, then the left, and she licked her lips when he flinched and his hips arched off the mattress. Her gaze fixed on his arousal then, and with shaking fingers, she unbuckled his belt. Long minutes of agonizing torture followed, prolonged by her obvious nerves, her hands fumbling over his cock.

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He had a photographic memory, so Terry visualized the training manual for his sub’s nuclear weapon in a desperate attempt to not spill, not ejaculate toward that pursed mouth. Shaky fingers slipped the zipper of his fly down; she spread the material of his pants, and his erection sprang free. Her gasp stirred the air over the head of his prick. A pleased smile curved her mouth, and her lips widened into a grin when she met his gaze. “I couldn’t stop thinking about this.” One finger brushed the head of his shaft. His eyes crossed. She rolled down his foreskin. He grabbed fistfuls of down duvet, his gaze fixated on her face, on the wonderment lighting those jade eyes. “Oh my,” she breathed and touched the tip of her very pink tongue to his slit, then suckled it. His balls slammed into his pubes, and white orgasmic light blinded him. He shot his wad. And to his surprise she lapped up his cum, angling this way and that, swallowing every drop. Slurping and humming, this little sound coming from the back of her throat, the vibration of which almost pained the oversensitive crown of his prick, while he lay spent, sated, sorrowful, shamed. He collapsed against the pillows, wallowing in every caress, every tentative touch. And must have passed out from sheer pleasure, as when he awoke, shore lights glistened and bobbed through the portholes of the cabin, and he was alone. A predawn glow hit the distant horizon. Jaysus. Never, ever had he failed to bring a woman to pleasure. Not only had he not done that tonight, but he’d also passed out after having shot his wad like a green adolescent. Jaysus. His nails bit into damp palms. He never wanted to see that woman again. He couldn’t wait to see her again. He had to be inside of that tight little hole, soon. Minutes soon. When he made it onto deck, fully clothed save for one scarlet tie, his twin brother greeted him. Thomas’s face, lit by dawn’s foreshadows, reflected a decade of excessive living. “Who was it this time? You can’t keep your prick in your trousers. You never could.” “Sod off, Thomas. We all know where you keep yours.” “At least it’s not down our stepmother --” Years of reaction kicked in and Terry punched him in the jaw, then followed up with a left hook to his twin’s stomach. When Thomas fell to the deck clutching his belly, Terry stalked away, the scene too familiar, too pulsing with self-loathing, fraught with too many buried secrets.

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The image of Su-Lin burned his pupils, replaced by the abject longing flashing across Thomas’s features seconds before his fist crashed into bone. Remorse set in. And all he wanted to do was escape, never see her again, never see his twin again. Never have to face the abject failure of his performance with either individual. When had he become so selfish, so greedy? Disgust laced every movement, every thought. Even two ice-cold showers couldn’t wash away the sins of his soul. Black coffee laced with scotch helped him decide how to proceed. Around midmorning, he phoned the Lockheeds’ suite, but no one answered. A quick check with the front desk revealed the Lockheeds and Su-Lin had rented a limo, and the itinerary for the day included Arles and Marseille. Terry left a voice mail in their room and, for good measure, wrote two cryptic notes. The first, contact information for him and the Glory, and a planned schedule for the Greek charter, addressed to James Lockheed. The other message took forty minutes to compose. A few quick words with the concierge, and he headed to the front desk to check out. The reservations clerk handed him a folded note after he signed the bill. T, Evil stepmama in Monte Carlo. Crisis looming. Meet you on the Glory in the AM. H.

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Chapter Three  Su-Lin Taylor eyed the cryptic note penned in black ink. Su-Lin, I never meant last night to end the way it did. My abject apologies. Allow me to make it up to you -- have after-dinner drinks with me in my private suite on the Glory on Friday night? I promise to make it a night you’ll always remember. E-mail and phone number, including my private line, on the card enclosed. Terry Nibbling on her lower lip, she read the note again. “Mam’selle Taylor,” the concierge said, sotto voce. A quick check of the front desk showed her aunt and uncle engaged in a gesticulated discussion with the receptionist and the front desk manager. Uncle James’s florid cheeks and downturned lips, together with Aunt Emma’s folded arms and rapid shoe drumming on the lobby’s marble floor, indicated an intense argument. Shifting so she half faced the hotel employee, she raised an eyebrow and replied, “Oui?” “Monsieur O’Connor also asked me to give you this.” The man held out a cell phone. “It’s a disposable cell phone with one hundred minutes of airtime. The number one is preprogrammed to Monsieur O’Connor’s private line. Do you know how to text?” She shook her head. “I don’t even know how to use this.” Turning the compact phone over in her hand, Su-Lin lifted a shoulder and shot the concierge an apologetic smile. “C’est toute facile -- it’s very easy, mam’selle. Here, I will show you.” In a lowered voice, he explained how to charge the phone, and his deft fingers showed her the send, receive, and message functions, and how to retrieve voice mail. Just as the charming concierge embarked on an explanation of texting, Su-Lin heard Uncle James’s booming voice

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saying, “I don’t expect to see a repeat of these scurrilous charges on the bill when I check out on Friday morning.” “Excuse me, but I don’t have time for the texting lesson. I have to go.” She opened her purse, then dropped the phone and charger into a zippered compartment. Taking two steps in the direction of the reception desk, she threw a glance over her shoulder and said, “Thank you, merci beaucoup.” At that precise instant Aunt Emma whirled around, right hand on her hip, left rapping her oversize clutch on a thigh. Su-Lin made it halfway to the front desk before her aunt’s beady brown eyes found her. “Where did you disappear to?” Today Aunt Emma and Uncle James had been at odds with one another. “We’re responsible for your safety. You can’t keep wandering off by yourself all the time.” “I tried to tell you, but --” Su-Lin protested. “Harrumph.” Her aunt snorted. “You always have some flimsy excuse.” “Emma, leave the girl alone,” Uncle James ordered and cupped his wife’s elbow, his fingers pressing the woman’s skin so hard indentations appeared. “We’re all tired and a bit grouchy. Why don’t we have a rest, and we can go for a late dinner around eight thirty?” “Actually I have a headache, Uncle. Would you mind if I just ordered a bite from room service? Last night we didn’t get in till after midnight, and I’m not used to such late hours.” No one spoke until Uncle James’s cell phone rang just as he slid the card key into their suite’s slot. “Yes,” he answered, opened the door, and waved for his niece and wife to precede him. “I’m going to have a quick shower, eat, and go to sleep.” Su-Lin halted in the penthouse’s sitting area. Uncle James snapped his phone shut. “Go ahead, love. Turns out we’ll be going out for dinner with our friends from lunch the other day.” “Good night, Uncle, Aunt.” Su-Lin went to her room, closed the door, and locked the door. Toeing off her sandals, she took the cell phone out of her purse and set it on the dresser. Should she call him? What would she say? Talk about the weather? But he had given her the phone, and there could be only one reason for that. She debated the issue while toweling off and dressing, half of her wanting to press the number one, the other half more worried about last night. She grabbed the phone, not allowing herself to think about what she’d say to Terrence O’Connor. Before she could press the number one, the chorus of “I get knocked down” erupted from the receiver. In acute slow motion, she pressed receive and put the phone to her ear. “Hello?” “Where are you?” Terrence, his Irish brogue curling the Rs just so. A low heat started in her belly. “In the hotel suite,” she muttered, her voice a bare croak, and the heat turned into a dozen buzzing bees warming her insides.

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“Are the relatives hovering?” “Uncle James and Aunt Emma have gone out with their friends for dinner.” “With the stick woman and her husband from lunch?” She giggled and cupped a hand over her mouth before replying, “I think so.” “I missed you today.” “Oh.” She drew a circle on the carpet with her big toe. “Did you miss me, darlin’?” She nodded, realized he couldn’t see her, and blurted, “Yes.” “Any chance of you playing hooky tomorrow and spending the day with me?” “We’re going to Cannes.” “I guess I’ll just have to curb my impatience, darlin’. You will join me for drinks in my cabin on Friday?” “Yes,” she breathed, her voice a hint above a murmur. “Keep the phone on you. I’ll call you again.” “Okay.” “Tell me something no one else knows about you. Something just for me.” His voice had gruffened. “I dreamed about you,” she whispered, everything solid in her body skittering and sliding into a sort of loose languor, as if a hypnotic paralysis froze her limbs while sparking the veins feeding them. “Hell, darlin’, I thought I was dreaming when you came into the steam room. I couldn’t believe my luck. And now we have three glorious weeks together. What more could a man ask for?” What more could she ask for? How to reply to that? “I have to go, darlin’. Catch you later.” She did cartwheels around the suite in between a fits of giggling and finished with a double somersault. Energy spent, she curled up on a fat chair in her bedroom, ordered a chocolate mousse and a concoction described as decadent devil’s cake from room service, along with a half carafe of red wine. All night long, delicious dreams filled her head. Her lips broke into a broad smile the minute light hit her pupils the following morning. Not wanting to wake her relatives, she brushed her teeth, dressed, then slipped out of the suite. Hotel guests bustled in the lobby, rolling suitcases to the reception desk or sinking into plush upholstered couches armed with folded newspapers. A colored section of a Nice-Matin lay below the top of the concierge’s desk, which stood unmanned at the moment. She studied the folded newspaper, cricking her neck to read the words upside down. Beneath a bold headline, a grainy black-and-white photograph, which looked vaguely familiar, caught her attention. An unfocused uneasiness made her reach over the counter. “Mam’selle Taylor. What can I do for you this morning?” The young concierge who’d helped her last evening smiled as he asked the question. He leaned forward and she retreated, tucking her hand behind her back.

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“Um, is that the paper?” “Oui, mam’selle. You prefer French or an English version?” “English, I suppose, although I’ve been trying to practice my high school French.” She accepted the folded newspaper he handed over. “Thank you. I’ll read this while having a cup of coffee.” Su-Lin read the Matin cover to cover but couldn’t find the photograph that had caused the hairs on her forearm to rise. Unsettled, she paged through each section one more time before abandoning her hazy, unprovoked apprehensions. Her stomach growled, and she ordered a raisin muffin to go. Wandering barefoot through lapping waves, face lifted to the sun, she allowed the warm sea wind to disorder her long hair in between bites of the moist muffin. Terry called around ten. “Sounds as if you’re outside.” “I’m walking on the beach,” she answered, enjoying this new intimacy, speaking with him on a cell phone. “What are the plans for today?” “Lunch and shopping in Cannes this afternoon. Tonight we have dinner with my uncle’s English friends, some business colleagues of his.” She wanted to ask him what he had planned, but bashfulness made her swallow her words. “And tomorrow morning, you head my way.” His voice hoarsened, the Irish brogue becoming more pronounced. Her lungs couldn’t find a regular rhythm, and she held the receiver away from her mouth for a second, searching for a change of subject. All at once, she knew who the photo in the newspaper had reminded her of, and she blurted, “Are you a local celebrity?” “What a strange question, darlin’.” “I thought I saw a picture of you in the paper.” “What newspaper?” Su-Lin looked at the phone, a bit taken aback by the whipped query. “The Matin. The concierge gave me a copy.” “I have an incoming call. I’ll talk to you later.” So much for romance and charm; Terry sounded peeved. Glancing at the pale blue sky, she noticed the sun had ridden high above the horizon. Hurrying back to the hotel, she bumped into her relatives as they stepped out of the elevator. “There you are,” Uncle James said. “We’re running late, Su-Lin. Run up to the room, grab your pocketbook, and meet us in the hotel’s driveway.” The day flew by after that, and they never returned to the hotel until well after midnight. Su-Lin hadn’t realized part of the itinerary included a cocktail party at the Cannes Ritz-Carlton. Her uncle presented her to what seemed like scores of portly gray-haired or balding men armed with Chanel-dressed wives wearing diamonds and pearls. After the first twenty-or-so introductions, her brain stopped processing individual names and faces, and every couple blurred into a series of unfocused eyes, noses, and ears.

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Terry didn’t call. Tired but restless, Su-Lin tossed and turned, sleeping with the phone under her pillow. Her alarm clock never went off, and she woke to find bright sunlight streaming through her window. “Jennifer, we’re ready. We’re due to be at the docks before noon.” Su-Lin cringed. Even after repeated requests, her aunt had never called her anything but Jennifer. “I’m almost ready. I’ll be out in five minutes.” Another knock on the door. “We’ll meet you outside the lobby. Uncle James and I will bring the car around.” No time for a bra and panties, not that she needed the former. When Aunt Emma used that tone, it made her shudder. She threw on one of her new outfits, a floral-patterned white, green, and red silk blouse and skirt, and strapped on low-heeled sandals. The ride to the elevator took forever. She walk-jogged through the lobby and arrived at the hotel’s entrance just as her relatives pulled up, her uncle behind the wheel of a navy Range Rover. “I lost track of you last night, Su-Lin,” Uncle James said as she closed the door to the backseat. “Got so caught up with my old schoolmates, I almost forgot my two women.” He flashed an over the shoulder grin at her, and she counted the number of times his chins jiggled, one…two…three. Squaring her shoulders, Su-Lin snapped the seat belt into place. “I had a nice time.” “Lots of lords and ladies present, eh?” Uncle James boomed. “Perhaps we can marry you off to one?” “Don’t be daft, Jimmy. The son of a peer would never consider someone of mixed blood.” Her aunt flicked an imaginary piece of fluff off her knit dress. “The best Jennifer can hope for is someone like that coarse Irishman, O’Connor. He certainly seemed interested.” Humiliation and embarrassment had Su-Lin flinching into the soft leather seat as if it could swallow her whole. Face flaming, she blurted, “I’m sure you’re mistaken, Aunt Emma.” “The way that man ogled you? Not a chance. Not that you didn’t invite his attentions with that scandalous dress. Thank goodness, I supervised the new clothes we purchased over the last couple of days.” Every instinct screamed her suspicions. Had her aunt destroyed her mother’s dress? Was that why the sheath was missing? Anger curled her toes and fingers, and she chanted her mantra praying for tranquility. Desperate rage forced the words out of her mouth. “Do you think we can scatter my mother’s ashes while we’re on this cruise?” The abrupt topic change provoked a stunned silence. The back of her uncle’s neck turned a beet red. Aunt Emma’s mouth tightened into a flat line. “Are you sure you’re ready for that? We both know how much you loved Annika, and how close the two of you were.” Su-Lin hit the window switch and fresh air rolled in, cooling her heated flesh. The briny tang in the gusts helped clear her mind. “I’m ready.” “You don’t want to wait for a bit?” her uncle asked. His azure eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. “Have more time to grieve? We saw a grief counselor before coming to the States, and his advice was not to make any drastic changes for at least one year.”

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“I’m ready, Uncle James.” “Okay, love. All we want is for you to be happy.” She hated his kindness, his understanding, his gentle handling of her. She deserved to be punished for being ashamed of her mother, for hiding her away. Annika Taylor’s mind had fractured after her husband died, and it had been left to Su-Lin to care for her, to keep her from an asylum, to be the parent. Wretched memories kept her occupied during the long drive, and she jumped when Uncle James proclaimed, “Well, I’ll be. This is some boat.” Wealth. The bay teemed with it. Yachts, luxury sailing ships, ritzy sports cars in colorful hues blurred the sweeping vista facing Su-Lin. Monte Carlo; she pinched her forearm, overwhelmed by her good fortune. Today they started a three-week cruise on an actual yacht captained by Terrence O’Connor, her future lover. Staring at the boat, she stepped onto the immaculate cement dock. Su-Lin took in the resplendence of the yacht, the proud curves, and the three tiered decks. Her heart, already joyful at the prospect of sailing the Mediterranean, vaulted over a full-fledged hurdle when she glimpsed streaked blond hair glinting red highlights and walnut-toned biceps framed by a tight black T-shirt. Her eyes focused on Terrence puffing on a cigar, blowing smoke rings, which disappeared as they rose against the perfection of a powder blue sky. She never noticed her uncle unpacking their luggage, didn’t acknowledge her relatives’ presence, but followed them on autopilot. On board, she came to a stop in front of a lanky, handsome man wearing a brown Stetson set at a rakish angle. “Welcome to the Glory,” he drawled in this sexy, send-shivers-up-your-spine voice. “Harrison Ford, first mate, at your absolute disposal. I saw you on the beach in Antibes a while back, sugar. Amazing performance. Surely you’re Olympic material?” His palm enfolded her small hand, and he brushed full lips over the throbbing vein at her wrist. Bemused by the way he said the word “sugar,” like it had no R and a host of Hs, shug-ah, her lips curved, hoping he’d say it again. She paraphrased it in her mind, shug-ah, and drew in gulps of his Acqua Di Gio aftershave as her stomach did a giddy slide into his twinkling honey eyes. She rushed out, “I made the team four years in a row but had to drop out. Then I shot up. I’m too tall for Olympic competition.” She stifled a groan, too much information. It still amazed her how rich people conducted a conversation. They asked questions as greetings but didn’t expect answers, far less the truth. “An itty bitty thing like you?” Liquid caramel eyes glistened sympathy beneath arched eyebrows. “Shucks, sugar, that’s their loss. I took a shot of you on my cell. Remind me, and I’ll show it to you later.” He had taken a picture of her? This man with rock-star looks and Indiana Jones charm? Su-Lin fell back when her uncle stepped forward. “I’m James Lockheed, and this is my wife, Emma, my niece, Su-Lin.”

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“Nice to meet y’all. Terrence O’Connor’s the captain, but he’s tied up for the moment. I know you chartered the Glory for the coming three weeks, Mr. Lockheed, but Geoff, Terry’s partner, seems to have scheduled a cruise with another party for the same period.” “Well, I hope we can settle this mix-up quickly.” Aunt Emma started tapping her Clarks pump on the teak deck. “Not to worry, Terry’ll sort something out.” “We’ve already paid for this cruise,” Uncle James announced. “We’re not going anywhere.” Tap, tap. Her aunt’s drumming intensified. Su-Lin rubbed her left temple. “Jimmy, do you see what I see?” Something about the strange way her aunt and uncle looked at each other bothered Su-Lin, but she couldn’t quite identify what. “Well, I’ll be,” her uncle muttered. “He’s the spitting image of Terrence.” Su-Lin followed the direction of their gaze and saw Terrence with shorter hair, dressed in beige trousers and a white linen shirt, climbing the inclined gangplank. Her head spun to the boat’s second level where another Terrence in black slacks and a black shirt puffed on a cigar. Nothing made sense. Su-Lin chewed her lip and grabbed the handrail as her knees buckled. A crew member approached bearing a tray of martini glasses. More confused than ever, on autopilot, she absently curled her fingers around a chilled stem, glanced at the blue liquid sloshing side to side, her mind slipping and sliding in a mimicking rhythm. Every fear about her mental stability surfaced. Had she dreamed all this? The sound of pounding footsteps snapped her gaze to the second deck, and she spotted Terry stomping down the metal stairs, hair flying, mouth a thin, flat line, and the other Terry striding onto the Glory’s deck. Two Terrences? She’d gone over the edge, crossed the line into living her dreams. She had too much of her mother in her, after all. “What in damnation are you doing here?” an angry Terry barked. “Nice to see you again, brother. Didn’t you know? I chartered the Glory for three weeks.” Twins, identical twins; her pulse steadied, beating faster than normal, but not jumping and starting like it had seconds before. She gripped the crystal flute in her hand so hard, she feared it would break. “Damn it, what the hell is going on here, Thomas? You’re the other charter?” “Calm down, Ter. There is a reasonable explanation.” “Sod off, you prick. I don’t want to hear it. And,” he growled, his voice lowering, “you brought Father. How could you?” Through all the shouting and fists stabbing the air, Su-Lin discovered dissimilarities between the identical twins.

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Thomas, though muscular, didn’t have Terry’s powerful biceps, nor were his shoulders as broad. His hair barely brushed his nape and fell into a side part. He personified the suave Ralph Lauren type, urbane and sophisticated. Terry, even in repose, oozed a primitive sexuality braided with a leashed rage and hunger. Fisted hands balled on his lean hips, Terry scowled at his father and brother. Harrison held out a cell phone. “It’s Geoff. He wants to speak to you.” Terry spoke into the receiver for three minutes, issuing words in a fierce staccato. He snapped the phone shut and cursed, his brogue so thick Su-Lin couldn’t understand a single word. “Well, well, this is interesting,” Aunt Emma drawled. “It complicates matters.” Su-Lin’s stomach listed. “I don’t understand.” “I’m sure you don’t, Jennifer,” her aunt said. Terry dragged both hands through his hair and turned to face her. “We meet again. Welcome to the Glory.” Shock kept her speechless as she realized she wasn’t welcome on board his boat, not by a long shot. She needed to escape, find a safe place, hole up, and block the humiliation shattering her fragile self-confidence. Gritting her teeth, Su-Lin lifted her chin and said, “A most gracious welcome. Thank you.” At least he had the grace to blush, although that proved poor solace for her bruised ego. “James and Emma Lockheed, Su-Lin, meet my brother, Thomas, and my father, the Earl of Arran, Nigel Gore.” He appeared to be speaking through clenched teeth. “Nigel, good to see you again,” Uncle James said, extending a hand. “You know each other?” Terry asked, gaze whipping between the two men. “Business acquaintances,” the earl replied. “Harry, Austen, show our guests to their rooms,” Terry ordered. The cowboy, Harrison, intervened. “I’ll show you to your cabin, Su-Lin.” He crooked an elbow. “Terry has to show his father and brother to theirs, and Austen, our bosun, is showing your relatives to the upper deck.” “Thank you.” She refused to sneak a look at Terry and smiled at Harrison Ford. “What’s a bosun?” “The Glory’s foreman. He organizes the other crew members and reports to me.” “Oh,” she said. “Like a manager.” “Bull’s-eye, sugar,” he drawled, gifting her with a crooked grin. Su-Lin wondered if this gorgeous man had any physical flaws. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like Indiana Jones?” A Harrison Ford look-alike without the cragginess or the twisted nose. “Pure luck, as my mama named me after him.” He winked at her. “I even took archaeology as a minor in college.” By this time, they’d reached the end of the stairs leading below deck, and a long, carpeted corridor faced them.

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“You’re at the far end. The Glory’s staterooms are divided evenly between this deck and the upper one. Our level is separated by this entertainment area.” Harrison paused and waved a hand in the direction of a bar, a sectional curved couch, and a wide plasma screen blaring CNN Headline News. “Where is my aunt and uncle’s room?” Su-Lin asked. “They’re on the upper deck, as are the rest of the guests. Austen and I are on this level. You’re next door to the captain’s cabin.” He pointed to the left. “Terry’s decided on a different itinerary, one that’ll keep us closer to the coast where you can do day trips. We’ll head out soon. Someone will bring the bags down later. Dinner’s usually around eightish. Join me for a drink on deck in half an hour, sugar? Wanna get married?” “I beg your pardon?” Shaking her head didn’t seem to clear it. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” “Wanna get married?” She did that back of the throat thing to clear stuffy ears and shot him a smile-grimace. “Did you just ask me to marry you?” “Durn right, sugar. My father left me a fortune, which I inherit the day I marry. My stepmama inherits if I’m not wed by thirty.” “Oh,” she muttered, digesting this interesting but peculiar tidbit. “I take it your birthday’s coming up?” “Yep. And that bitch ain’t getting a cent, not even if I have to marry a freakin’ octogenarian.” Hysteria spurred a sudden fit of giggles. “Have I just arrived in some sort of parallel universe? This must be a surreal dream.” “I’m serious. You have a chance to save me from hunting down a wife in an old folks’ home.” He winked at her again. “You’re impossible,” she said. “Even if what you’re saying is true, why not marry a friend and then get divorced?” “Proof of consummation is part and parcel of Daddy’s will. The old fart put it in blackand-white.” “Oh,” she muttered. “Hold on a second, there’d only be proof if the female was a virgin.” “One of the requirements is an untouched woman.” “What makes you think I fit the bill?” One forefinger traced the outline of her mouth. Their gazes tangled and he shook his head. “Ah, sugar, you radiate innocence. And you have a hunger in your eyes. It makes a man burn to be the first.” “Sod off, Harrison. Above deck, pronto. You,” Terry barked. “Come with me.” Where had he come from? Everything happened so quickly, Su-Lin’s mind reeled. He scooped her into his arms and then the two of them were alone in his cabin. “You don’t go from blowing me to screwing Harry.” Carrying her high against his chest, he toed the door closed. “Do you hear me?” “Put me down,” she said. “I don’t belong to you. You can’t order me about.”

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He dumped her on the bed, and the mattress bounced as she struggled to her elbows. “Are you a virgin?” Heat scaled Su-Lin’s cheeks, and she couldn’t meet those blazing eyes. “None of your business.” “Tell me now, darlin’,” he growled and unbuckled the black belt cinching his lean hips. “What’re you doing?” She scooted backward, digging her heels into the slippery down covers, and stopped only when her back connected with a ridged headboard. “Finishing what we started a couple of days ago.” He tugged the sable T-shirt over his head. “Are you?” “Does it make a difference?” Desire dizzied her brain and caused the words to come as if from far away. An image of his large weapon stained her pupils. Her lungs went into some sort of stuttering spasm when he scraped his black jeans down powerful thighs, flicked the pants off one bare foot, and his cock sprang free. “Fricking hell it does. I’ve been on fire for you for days. Jaysus, you’re tiny.” Naked, features flushed, he sat on the edge of the bed and crooked a finger. “Come here, little darlin’.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I wanted you to be the first. I knew it the moment I saw you.” “You ran like a scared rabbit,” he murmured and captured her hands when she slid closer. “I’m too randy to be gentle, and a woman’s first time should be special. We’ll take the edge off first, and then we’ll do the dirty.” “You aren’t one for pretty words,” she said, not a little unnerved, and her apprehension escalated as he undid all the buttons of the patterned blouse. “Darlin’, darlin’, I’ve been dreaming about these nipples.” When he bent his head and his tongue flicked across a taut tip, an electric bolt flamed through her body, and she grasped the sheets, wrenching the soft down between clutching fingers. His teeth grazed, bit softly, and she clasped one hand behind his neck and pressed him closer. He complied, suckling and nibbling, and her mind splintered, avarice, need controlling every action. “What?” she asked when he lifted his head and broke the contact. “Naked, darlin’. Naked before I lose it completely.” Large palms bracketed her waist, and he slid the elastic skirt band down to midthigh and groaned aloud. “Lie back.” Obeying his order, she flopped onto the bed. All at once, he whipped the silk skirt and shirt off her body and reversed their positions so his cock twitched against her shoulder. She licked her lips and shifted closer, eyeing the glistening tip, the translucent liquid pearling there, ignoring the hot breath fanning her damp curls. Excitement razed her brain. She managed to work her hand around the middle of his weapon, but right then he laved a tongue across her folds, and she squealed and fell back against the pillow. His elbows nudged her thighs farther apart, and she went limp when he inserted a thick, callused finger inside. “Jaysus.” Her hand tightened around his organ. “Not so tight, darlin’,” he crooned, but his words didn’t penetrate.

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The edge of his teeth grazed her sensitive pearl, and her grip firmed. “Su-Lin,” he snapped and pried a thumb under hers. “Too tight.” “Sorry.” She released her death grip on his penis. “I’ll live.” For a large man, he moved with the speed of a tiger, switching their positions within a hairbreadth. “You stopped,” she accused. “I liked it. A lot.” “You’re a fricking total innocent.” He cradled her face between heated palms. “Here’s how we’re going to do this. Hook your hands into the rings on the headboard. Don’t touch me. I’m ready to explode, and you’re coming first this time. Got it?” She couldn’t answer, because he ate at her mouth, his tongue swirling and tasting, while his hands moved hers to the rings. “Terrence?” Su-Lin croaked when he broke their kiss. “Shh,” he said, his hot breath igniting a path down her neck, over one burning nipple, then the other, making her belly contract and ripple. When he buried his face between her thighs, her fingers squeezed the wooden rings. “More.” The word burst from her lips, and she bucked into that clever mouth, that slick tongue, those gnawing teeth. Perspiration made one hand slip, and she reached down and tangled fingers in his silky hair. “More, more, more.” The pressure built and built and built, becoming the center of the universe, the sole focus as she reached and reached, and then it happened. White-hot blinding explosions, one after the other, and still his tongue lapped, his thumb grinding a circle on that point. Just when she couldn’t take it anymore, another burst of fireworks burned her pupils, had her babbling, her hips curving high off the mattress. Unable to draw a breath, form a single coherent thought, Su-Lin collapsed like a rag doll, boneless, more exhausted than after the most strenuous gymnastic routine. The Glory’s horn sounded, once, twice, three times, and the ship rocked into motion, the sensation soothing, slumber-inducing. Su-Lin lifted one weary eyelid and met Terry’s passionclouded eyes, noted the fine lines bracketing his wide smile, and her lips curved. “Why’re you smiling? I should be the one wearing that foolish grin.” “Because it’s my turn now, darlin’. We both get to finish.”

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Chapter Four  The intercom on the far wall buzzed. “Terry, we need you in the engine room.” “Sod it,” he snapped. A ferocious scowl replaced the grin he’d worn a second earlier. Naked, cock aching, bollocks so tight that the bedsheets scraping against them tested his control, Terry stumbled over to the white square. He jabbed the intercom switch and snarled, “This better be good, boyo.” “Warning light on the cooling system. Should we head back? Or are you going to try and fix it?” “Head back. Find our regular engineer, have him fix the fricking thing, and don’t, under any circumstances, bother me for the next couple of hours.” He lifted his finger off the wide switch and glared at the device, willing Harry’s compliance. “A couple of hours?” His gaze snapped to the exotic beauty listing on unsteady elbows. Jaysus, she epitomized the perfect sex kitten, naked, unabashed, lips curling, one eyebrow lifted. “And then some.” Terry shook his head and jabbed one fist into his open palm relishing the stinging impact. Focus, focus. “We have a wee problem, Su-Lin, darlin’.” “We do?” “Your hymen’s not only intact, it’s…” he said, then paused, searching for the right words. “It’s more of a barrier than I had anticipated.” Her jaw dropped and a fierce rosy color flushed every inch of that delectable golden skin. Terry edged onto the mattress as she sat up and hugged a pillow against a taut belly. Unable to resist touching her, he traced a forefinger along the graceful curve of her neck and fingered one soft, plump earlobe. “I don’t want to hurt you.” “For the pleasure, you bear the pain,” she whispered and crushed the pillow against her stomach, pink hues flushing high cheekbones. “I’m a big man, everywhere.”

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“I can see that,” she said, those green eyes taking in the length of him, and damned if his prick didn’t lengthen and preen to her gaze, leaking a thick drop onto the white comforter. “Will you trust me to handle this?” Head tilted to one side, she replied, “I thought I’d already done that. Um, how can you tell?” She scrunched that pert little nose. White nose, eastern complexion, he thought, a trifle disconcerted by how endearing the gesture proved. “I couldn’t get a finger past it. I certainly didn’t expect this, not after seeing you do that split.” “Oh. Can we not talk about it? Can you not just do it?” “Sweet darlin’, you’re such an innocent.” Through hooded lids, he studied his little aphrodisiac and wondered if it was all a ruse, her wide-eyed trusting. But he knew better, and that intact hymen proved otherwise. His self-imposed restraint slipped as the lurid fantasies of three long days danced into his mind. She’d tasted better than he could ever have imagined, and when he’d fingered her, that tight little pussy had done a clench and jerk snatch around his lucky forefinger. He stopped caressing her ear and sucked the scent of her into his mouth. “I liked the way you tasted,” she said. “Jaysus, Su-Lin. You have no idea of the barbarian I am,” he said and held up one hand, index finger and thumb almost touching. “I am this far from throwing you onto your back and pounding into you. Caveman doesn’t begin to describe how I feel right now.” She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, they seemed greener than an Irish lawn after a fresh rainfall. “Why’re we talking about it? I’ve been dreaming of this for days, wondering what you’d feel like inside of me, if you’d fill me up so I never felt empty again.” “Stop, stop.” His balls slammed into his groin, and he had to grab the crown of his prick and squeeze like a bloody adolescent in the last throes of lust. Her expression morphed, going from dream-glazed to anxious, mouth pursed in a series of quick pants. “I did something wrong?” “Not you, darlin’,” he said and shook his head. “Me.” His fingers snagged on knots when he dragged them through his hair. “Let’s turn the heat down, until I have some semblance of control.” Terry tugged away the pillow, and she averted her eyes, focusing on his stubbled chin. Unable to resist holding her, feeling that soft, warm skin against him, he settled against the headboard and drew her into his lap. “Have you ever had a boyfriend?” She cupped a hand over her mouth, but it didn’t quite silence the startled gasp, and every muscle in contact with his body stiffened. “I don’t see why that matters.” Tracing the outline of her downturned mouth, he paused a second before responding. “You didn’t even know how to kiss. Was the last hour and that night at the cocktail reception the sum total of your sexual experience?” “Like I said, I don’t see why it matters, unless…” She nibbled a finger, and those jade eyes flicked in the general direction of his face. “You didn’t like it? I know you’re still like that and

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that must mean something.” Pointing at his erection, she continued, “But you fell asleep that other time on the boat. I’m not good at this, is that it?” He laughed so hard his lungs burned, and he had to swipe the tears off his cheeks with the back of one hand. Humor, the only way to tame his raging libido; who’d have figured? He never had fun in bed. Sex was a serious pursuit, a fevered, concentrated, mind-blowing pleasure. Once women saw the size of his cock, they knew what they were in for, bone-kindling penetration and earth-shattering orgasms. His stepmother had taught him well; the woman always comes first, second, third. She’d liked to be ridden for hours, wouldn’t let him come until he begged. Su-Lin tried to squirm off his thighs, but he squeezed her closer, one arm snug around her narrow waist. The scent of her pussy still lingered on his finger, and some of her honey creamed his thighs as her hips slid back and forth. He hadn’t gone down on a woman since his stepmother, hadn’t wanted to, not until he’d sighted Su-Lin’s pussy in the steam room. He fought the desire to bury his face between her thighs. “We’re talking about, as you sweetly said, ‘it,’ to calm me down. I’m randier than a fricking stallion. All I’ve thought about is burying myself inside this tight little glove.” Her breath hitched when his thumb circled said sheath, and she creamed, dew coating his finger. “You’re so damned responsive. See?” Rubbing the wet thumb over her small mouth, he ordered, “Open, taste yourself. Smell your little pussy. You did everything fricking right, darlin’, and you taste like nectar.” Pupils dilating, heated breath panting over his palm, gaze manacled to his, she touched the tip of that delectable tongue to the pad of his thumb. “You have me riding a thin wire. I don’t dare take you now.” Cupping his palms under her thighs, he lifted her and shifted onto his side, spooning her firm backside. “Bend your leg, that’s it. Christ, your pussy’s pretty. I’m going to ride your pussy lips, get you used to the feel of me. I want to make those pouty nipples bigger, pinker. Put your right arm around my neck, you’re going to need something to cling to.” Separating her folds, he eased his cock between her slickness and angled his thrusts so the head impacted her hooded nub. Suckling on one breast, he moistened the whole areola with long, rough licks and then softly grazed the wet button point. Her breath grew shallower, and she gasped, “Please, harder. Everything burns. Put it in, just a little, just enough.” “Jaysus,” he roared as his testicles contracted. “Fricking come with me, darlin’.” His fingers found her clit and he worked it, rubbing, pinching until she clamped her thighs together, squeezing his cock, and he exploded and nipped the curve of her shoulder. Black-and-white stars dancing along his glazed pupils, Terry rested his forehead against her neck, lamenting the invisible force that had sucked all the oxygen out of the room, forcing him to gasp loud breaths. When his lungs settled from heaving to panting, he inhaled. Nothing perfumed a room sweeter than the pungent mixture of semen and pussy honey. Collapsing onto his back, Terry curved one arm over her shoulder and lifted her leg across his pelvis, caressing the firm curves of athletic thighs. Su-Lin’s long, silky hair streamed across his chest, and he twined the black locks between his fingers, combing through one section.

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“Terrence?” “Terry, darlin’.” Only his sodding father called him Terrence. “How far away is my aunt and uncle’s cabin? You were a bit noisy.” Her attempt to be diplomatic startled a guffaw out of him. “Every cabin on the Glory’s soundproof. I’m vocal when I come.” “You always roar?” “You screamed.” “I didn’t,” she squealed and shoved off his chest. “Oh, no.” She cupped a hand over her mouth. “I did, didn’t I?” “Terrence. One looong scream. Very flattering.” “I’ll just die if my aunt or uncle heard.” “Not to worry, darlin’, they didn’t.” “The ship’s stopped moving,” she said and stretched one leg up to the ceiling. Pointing the toes, she curled long fingers around the ankle and brought the foot to her ear. His jaw dropped to China, and his eyes crisscrossed. A one-second-ago sated cock reared and began a pounding Riverdance against his belly. “Jaysus. Can you do that with both feet? At the same time?” Vivid, juicy images replaced lucid thought. “I’m very flexible,” she said and flashed him a glance from the corner of her eye, almost purring the words. “You saw me practice my routine on the beach.” “Show me. Christ, no. Don’t,” he growled and held up one hand. “Put your leg down and don’t do that again. Not until you can take me all the way at least three times a day. At that angle. Fricking hell, I’m hard again just thinking about it.” “Three times a day,” she repeated, obeying his command. She sat on her haunches, curled her toes into the mattress, rested her palms against the sheets, lifted her body, and hovered a couple of inches over the bed. “Show-off,” he muttered, eyeing those strong forearms. “One day, you have to do your routine for me, buck nekkid, darlin’.” “Terry.” The intercom buzzed again and Harry slurred the word a tad. “Dinner’s in half an hour. The aunt and uncle are headed down to Su-Lin’s cabin. Maybe you should warn her.” “Frick, well, there’s naught for it. Unless you want them knowing what we just did, you’d better get dressed, darlin’.” He hopped off the bed, stalked over to a floor-length narrow drape, and pulled it back to reveal a door. A quick twist of the handle opened the door to the adjacent room: hers. He sprinted across the cabin and twisted the lock shut. As he reentered the captain’s master, his little Asian bent over at the waist and picked up a garment. Terry paused, overcome with lust. Raking her sleek thighs and firm, contoured ass, he decided to find a way to extend their three-week cruise. Even if they went at it like rabbits, stealing every spare moment, Terry knew twenty-one days wouldn’t cut his hunger. Minutes later, he had Su-Lin ensconced in her cabin with mere seconds to spare. Mugging a grimace at the soiled comforter, he shook his head, more disconcerted than he cared to admit about his adolescent performance. What was it about this woman-child that had him shooting off at the slightest provocation?

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Mulling it over as he showered and dressed, Terry could come to only one conclusion: the virgin thing appealed, being first, being the only. Jaysus. He halted in midstride, the last thought too dangerous, too permanent for consideration. First things first: get rid of his father and brother. He hurried to the soundproofed media room he had designed, secured the door, and sat in the swivel leather chair custom-made for his large form. Using Skype, he dialed Geoff Stanford, his best friend, now the worst traitor on the face of the earth. “Why’d you do it?” he barked before Geoff could even speak. “Why’d you go along with the sodding bastard?” “Your twin’s sick, Terry. Thomas has a brain tumor, and the operation to remove it could kill him.” Nausea welled up his gullet, and he had to swallow a few times before his clogged throat cleared. Cancer. Thom. Sweat peppered his forehead. “Shite. Are you sure?” “I did a living will for him. You’re the one who decides when to turn off the machines, if he’s left brain dead.” Brain dead. The two words thrummed like Notre Dame’s bells in his ears. “Terry, you there?” He couldn’t focus. The moisture misting his eyes blurred the LCD screen. “I’m here.” He cleared his throat. “Are you sure? It’s not a ruse?” “Not bloody likely, Terry. Get a grip. Would Thomas do that to you?” “He wouldn’t, but our prick of a father would.” “Your father doesn’t know about the tumor.” “What’s Thom’s prognosis, Geoff? Give it to me straight.” “As far as I know, the tumor’s operable, but he could lose some motor coordination and/or some brain functioning.” Seconds crawled by, and the words didn’t sink in but hovered like a thick veil obscuring any pretense at reason. “He’s come to say good-bye, hasn’t he?” “It’s what I would do. He asked me not to tell you, Terry.” “I can’t pretend not to fricking know.” “What are you going to do?” “Whatever Thom wants. This is his call,” he replied, knuckling his throbbing temple. “I wish to hell my father wasn’t along for the fricking ride. Who is Thom’s doctor?” “A New York surgeon referred to by his UK consultant. As far as I know the operation’s in six weeks’ time.” “I punched him. I haven’t seen my brother in years. He comes to make peace. And what do I do? I deck him.” Remorse and disgust twisted his intestines into a daggered series of cramps. Terry gulped back bile. “Snap out of it. Thom doesn’t need you wallowing in self-pity.” “Too right. Let me call you back, Geoff. I’m sure I’ll have questions, but I need to digest this first.”

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“I can only imagine.” What a dysfunctional family he had, Terry thought, lips twisting into a sneer. Up until his thirteenth Christmas, life had been perfect. Unlike most aristocratic parents, his father and mother were deeply in love, and liberal with their affections. His mother followed Princess Diana’s creed believing children needed waterfalls of hugs and kisses. That fateful year, two days before Christmas, his mother developed a migraine headache and took to her bed. She died in her sleep on Christmas Eve. A brain tumor, they later discovered. He punched Redial. “That was quick.” “My mother died of a brain tumor. Is Thom’s condition hereditary?” “Haven’t got a clue. You’ll have to ask him. Are you worried for yourself?” “Fricking hell, no. It’s the good who die young. I’ll live to a ripe old age.” “You’re wallowing, Terry. Stop. You’re not the evil twin. There’s only one person to blame for your situation, and we both know who that is.” “And I’m the untarnished one in all this? No, Geoff, that won’t cut it. I’m as much to blame as my sick stepmother. We’ve had this argument one too many times. Later.” Terry clicked the mouse and clamped his lips together, fighting the urge to bellow and howl at God, at fate, at himself. He thought of all the letters he’d started over the years during drunken bouts of self-pitying melancholy. Abject, apologetic missives to his twin that never saw a postmark. Thomas could die. And they’d spent more than a decade apart. Wasted years. He slapped the hard wooden desk, caught the sharp edge of it, and welcomed the pain. Once, he and Thomas had been so close, they could sit in silence in the same room for hours, and when one spoke, the other knew exactly what he would say. He wanted that intimacy back, wanted Thomas’s forgiveness, wanted to shed the self-loathing he’d worn for so long. What if Thom died? He clamped his eyelids shut, but moisture pooled out the corners anyway. Not going to happen, not if he had any say. His jaw working, Terry stabbed a brass letter opener into a fat Post-it pad, splitting it down the middle. For long moments, he stared at the yellow vulgarity, gathering self-control. He clicked the Call icon on the screen. “Can you forward the surgeon’s contact data?” “Already in your in-box. What are you going to do?” “Have him checked out. If Thom’ll let me.” “I ran him through our system. He’s clean, no security risks, no bad habits. Excellent reputation. I also sent you all the research I did after I met with Thom.” “Thanks. I owe you one. Out of curiosity, where is my dear stepmother?” “Tooling around the Far East. Last I heard she was in Singapore shopping.” “That bitch will outlive us all. Put a watch on her, Geoff. I don’t want her showing up and disturbing Thom at a crucial time. Too bad we can’t arrange a fatal accident.”

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“Don’t be an ass and don’t do anything rash. There’s a lot of room for a lifetime of regret with this situation.” “Too right.” Terry clicked off and ran the autoerase function, wiping out any trace of either call. Glancing at the LCD monitor, he noticed the time on the PC clock. Dinnertime. Tonight’s meal had been prepared by Monaco’s Hotel de Paris’s Grill Room restaurant and Austen, the bosun, had arranged for a buffet-style presentation. Terry heaved a hefty sigh, slid out of the chair, and headed toward the main deck. From the din of voices coming from above, dinner would be under the moon and stars. Sure enough, two adjacent tables bordering the ship’s stern showcased knives, forks, and pale porcelain. A cloudless sky punctuated by slivers of winking stars and an eternal midnight Mediterranean formed the backdrop for lemon-edged china, glistening sterling cutlery, and sparkling crystal filled with a rich burgundy wine. His gaze gravitated to Su-Lin seated at the farthest table, and Austen at her side. Terry choked back a vicious curse when he realized only one seat stood empty. Wonderful. Three hours seated between Emma Lockheed and his sodding father, with Su-Lin a table away. Life couldn’t get worse. He hated being proved wrong. “Punctual as always, Terrence. We’ve been waiting for over ten minutes for your vaunted presence.” At least Father kept his voice low. Gritting his teeth, Terry sat, whipped a white napkin onto his lap, and said, “Sorry I’m late. Dig in. Don’t wait for me. Looks great. ” “Tight ship you run, Terrence. Not even a toast to welcome all aboard? Perhaps, as I hold the reins for the next few weeks, I should do the honors.” Another muttered aside, but it did the trick, Terry seethed. He knew that tone of voice. It heralded a scathing set-down. “You should know Geoff and I will sue your backside if anything untoward happens on your watch.” “And you should know Carol-Ann’s filed for divorce.” He couldn’t begin to think of a reply to that bald statement. “I don’t give a fricking damn. It’s not as if the two of you ever had a real marriage.” “I haven’t a clue as to why your brother has decided to forgive you.” “The truth wins out. What do you want from me, Father?” “Persuade your brother to do his duty.” “What makes you think Thomas would listen to me? After all these years?” “He’s throwing away three hundred years of heritage.” “Because he won’t marry and sire a son?” “That and because he won’t refute the rumors my wife is spreading.” Terry’s glance flicked to Thomas. “What rumors?” “You know exactly what I’m referring to.” “Do I? Why don’t you have this conversation with Thomas?”

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“I’ve tried.” His father’s lip curled at one corner. “Neither he nor you ever faced up to your actions. We’re all going to have to pay the price now.” “You won’t even consider that Carol-Ann’s lying?” “We both know she’s telling the truth on all counts. What I’m concerned about is proof. Does she have any?” “Of what Father? My perversions, yours, or Thom’s?” The Earl of Arran snorted, flicked his napkin, and scrunched it into a ball to the left of his plate, an unheard-of breach of earl etiquette. Shoving his chair back, he inclined his head. “Good evening.” Terry’s gaze followed the rigid line of his father’s retreating back. Nigel Thomas Jefferson Patrick Gore never backed down, never walked away from a fight. He hadn’t assumed his bitch of a wife had proof, but had actually asked if she did. What had happened to his father’s dogmatic certainty? He poured another a glass of red wine and took a deep swallow, swirling the liquor in his mouth and tasting the woodsy oak cask, which had housed the fine cabernet. Emma Lockheed’s throaty voice bristled into his somber thoughts. “Jennifer had been living in a run-down house. Half the lights didn’t work. No modern appliances, not even a television. The girl had never even been on a plane.” Su-Lin’s aunt flicked a finger displaying a three-carat square diamond. “She doesn’t even know how to use a cell phone, said she didn’t need one.” Curbing the temptation to prove her wrong and take her down a peg, Terry loaded his fork with cubed portions of the food on his plate. “What happened to her parents?” Thomas asked. “Her father died when Jennifer was nine or ten.” “And her mother?” Fine lines of exhaustion bracketed Thomas’s mouth, and his complexion appeared sallow in the soft, flickering candlelight. Terry glanced at his twin’s plate; he’d taken maybe three or four bites of the orange-glazed Cornish hen and pushed wild rice, broccoli, and carrots around the porcelain dish. “She died a couple of months ago. That’s when we found out about Jennifer. Her mother’s lawyer contacted us.” Even using both hands to guide his tumbler to his mouth, his twin couldn’t hide the glass’s shaky ascent. Terry stifled a wince. “Jimmy and I are enjoying spoiling Jennifer, but as you can see, she has a lot to learn.” Before Terry could utter a word, his twin jumped to Su-Lin’s defense. “Her table manners are perfect,” Thomas said. “She’s lovely, poised, and charming. I fail to see what she needs to learn.” “Isn’t it obvious? The girl has no fashion sense, she hasn’t a clue how to relate to the male gender, and her conversation is sorely lacking.” Listening to the discussion between Emma Lockheed and his twin, Terry gained insight into the woman destined to be his new lover. He shot a glance at Su-Lin and his trapezius muscle knotted. The opposite table’s composition had altered, and not for the better.

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When had Harrison changed seats? Lips compressed, he scowled when Harrison twirled a lock of Su-Lin’s inky hair around a forefinger. She laid one almond hand on Harry’s bare forearm and laughed. A saucy little smile Terry thought she reserved for him, and only him. Catching his eye, she waved, verdant eyes twinkling and sparkling, and she spun around to face Harry fully. They were flirting. Jealousy battled sheer rage, his nails bit into dry palms, Terry’s lips curled into a sneer, and he stood, intent on violence. At the same exact instant, Austen announced, “Ladies, gentlemen, dessert is served below deck in the entertainment area. I’ll lead the way.” The bosun weaved as he stood and braced on the deck rail after stumbling into Su-Lin’s chair. Frick, how much had Austen consumed? Prone to recklessness at the best of times, Austen’d been known to play Russian roulette when skunk drunk, and he seemed intent on attaining that stage sooner rather than later. “Terry, I’ll walk with you, shall I?” Every instinct went on alert, and every neck hair rose, trapping a shiver down his spine. He recognized a mother-hen tone when he heard one. “Of course, I’ll be happy to escort you there, Emma.” “My niece has led a very sheltered life.” The entry-level hook; he stifled a groan. The woman had one of those smiley bland faces, but underneath that deceptive exterior a barracuda lurked, biding her time. “I overheard your conversation with my twin,” he countered. “Jennifer’s never dated, and she’s very fragile mentally. Her mother suffered a number of nervous breakdowns, and Jennifer seems to have inherited Annika Taylor’s severe mood swings. And this conviction she qualified for the US gymnastic team,” Emma Lockheed said, and she shook her head. “It wouldn’t take much to shatter her grip on reality.” No one bullied Terrence O’Connor, and his civilized veneer had thinned tonight to springice-cracking point. “Su-Lin’s over twenty-one, Emma. She’s an adult woman capable of making her own decisions.” “Jennifer,” Emma snapped, emphasizing the English name, “is fragile and too innocent for her own good. James and I would be very remiss if we didn’t guard her carefully. Quite frankly, you don’t precisely have a pristine reputation where innocent girls are concerned. And I did hear rumors while we were traveling about a woman passenger on your yacht falling overboard and drowning.” Fricking hell. He knuckled his right temple, which thudded with each heavy footstep, and said through gritted teeth, “That incident was ruled an accident. I was cleared of all charges.” “Harrumph!” Emma Lockheed sniffed. “It’s entirely scandalous for you to put her in the room next to yours. I insist you move Jennifer to a cabin closer to ours.” “The cabin Su-Lin is in currently is the second largest on the Glory and the most opulent. The only other empty cabin was designed with children in mind. There are two single beds that can be converted into a bunk bed. It’s not suitable for your niece.” From the stiff line of Emma’s lips, his answer didn’t make her day. Tough titties; if she expected him to give up three weeks of paradise without a battle, she’d soon learn different.

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Neither Harrison nor Su-Lin had made it to the entertainment area, and they’d left first. Terry seethed for the ten minutes it took to make his excuses and hustle down to his cabin. Impatient, and suspicions on DEFCON alert, he ate up the distance to the connecting door and edged it open. Empty. He found Su-Lin on the top deck with Thomas and Harry. Cross-legged, five red-diamond-patterned playing cards in one hand, she looked alive, vivacious, bursting with vitality. He aged decades while looking at her. Emma was right on all counts; he didn’t deserve such champagne innocence. “Terrence,” she said. “Harry and Thomas are teaching me Texas Hold ’Em. I used to hear everyone talking about it in high school. Now I understand why everyone was obsessed with it. It’s fun.” Guilt torpedoed all his earlier plans, and he refused to meet her gaze. “Harry, you sober enough to take Su-Lin to her cabin?” When the first mate nodded, he continued, “First Engineer’s on watch tonight. Thomas, can you spare me an hour?” Hope blazed in Thomas’s eyes, the exact steel shade of his own, and he slowly rose to his feet.

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Chapter Five  “Absolutely. I’ll walk with you.” Thomas Jefferson Patrick Gore, heir to the Earl of Arran, spoke the words in a soft baritone. Yet their significance hung suspended in the cooling night breeze, hovering like an anchor about to plunge to port in ambiguous harbor. Su-Lin noticed the stifled wince as Thomas rose, the way his complexion paled, and the brief seconds he paused before taking the first deliberate step forward. Terry adjusted his pace to match Thomas’s and they walked off the deck together. Twins. She wondered if Terrence knew of Thomas’s illness, if they sensed each other’s thoughts or needed words to communicate. “Come back to me,” Harry said. “You like him, sugar?” “They’re both nice, and so are you. Thomas seems gentler, less angry.” “But Terry is the one you want.” She shifted to the right on the bench to make room for him. Harry hooked a chair with one booted foot and shuffled it so they could both prop their feet on its seat. Su-Lin didn’t object when he settled his arm around her shoulders, as the temperature had dropped and she needed the added warmth. “Do you believe in fate?” “Nah, I believe in making your own fate.” “What about your dad’s will? How can you forge your fate with those conditions hanging over your head?” she asked. Catching a faint whiff of lemon and leather, she glanced at his pointed cowboy boots, the tan hide darker on the outside. Su-Lin dipped her chin, and sure enough, the scent grew stronger. Working shoes, she decided, noticing a black strip held a tarnished silver buckle across the front, and the image of him on a horse wearing rawhide and a Stetson caused her lips to curl. “You can buy anything in this age, including a temporary virgin who’ll marry me for a predetermined period.” Su-Lin shook her head.

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“Aw, sugar, it’s not such a bad deal. A win-win situation.” He gave her a one-sided grin and a thumbs-up. “Money and sex.” “It doesn’t look that way to me. It seems like bad karma. The Tao Te Ching, the book of life, teaches that every act is both good and evil, part of the natural balance of the universe. Where is the good in your plan?” “Sugar, you’re talking to a Texan. We don’t do that harmony stuff.” One by one the bright lights of the upper deck winked off, and the stars in the midnight sky sparkled and twinkled brighter, as if someone had turned the dimmer switch off. The absence of the electrical background buzzing amplified the soft swishing of the Mediterranean lapping at the Glory’s hull. “Okay, look at it from a different perspective. You hate your stepmother and you’ll do anything to prevent her from getting your money. Is that right?” “Bull’s-eye. So what’s your advice? Forgive and forget? Let that bitch get Daddy’s money?” “No.” She shook her head and thought, for someone so sophisticated, he seemed naive. A gentle gust washed away the last hint of their dinner, and the tang of brine mingled with the faint whiff of Harrison’s Armani aftershave. “Spit it out, Su-Lin, I’m listening.” “You have so much hate, so much that is negative, and it’s not balanced by love anywhere in your life. Who loves you, Harry? Who do you love?” The moon dipped behind a cloud, and she couldn’t read his expression. “You know how to crack a man raw,” he drawled. “I think Jack Daniels and I are going to keep each other company tonight, sugar. I’m guessing there’s no way you’ll be agreeing to my proposal.” “Uh-uh. Marriage is too important to treat flippantly,” she said, shaking her head. “But I’ll help you find someone you’d like.” She chewed on her lower lip and then uttered her request. “I wonder, Harrison -- would you kiss me?” So many expressions crossed his face within the space of those few words that Su-Lin couldn’t keep track of them. “Sugar, you have no idea what my heart’s doing right now, or my son-of-a-gun fortunate prick.” That one-sided grin appeared again, and it blossomed into a Red Riding Hood’s wolf’s smile as desire darkened his eyes to molasses. “First, tell me why.” “I like you. You’re very nice and kind, but my heart doesn’t race at the sight of you,” she replied. “You’re very handsome, and the way you say sugar gives me the shivers, but you don’t make me all tingly.” “You mean the way Terry makes you feel?” He outlined the corner of her mouth with a forefinger. “Yes. Do kisses all taste the same?” Su-Lin puzzled through her reactions aloud. “Is it the kissing or the person? What do you think?” “I think you’re more dangerous than any of us realizes. But I’m not about to pass up the chance to taste you. Here,” he said, his voice gruff and enticing, and he settled her sideways across his thighs and scooted against the deck rail. “Comfy?” “I know you won’t hurt me.”

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Su-Lin closed her eyes at the first brush of his lips against hers, a soft, gentle skirmish, unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. Harry’s mouth parted and he sipped at her, and the tenderness of his touch stirred a bittersweet ache in her chest. He deepened the kiss, caressing her tongue with long, slow strokes, and she sighed. Easing their lips apart, he leaned against her forehead and asked, his hot breath smelling of chocolate and wine, “How was that, sugar?” “Nice,” Su-Lin replied. She touched their lips together. “Not like Terrence at all.” “Bloody fricking hell and damnation,” Terrence roared. Su-Lin shot to her feet, and an inferno flamed across her cheeks, her arms, her neck, making her a touch light-headed. “I like your kisses better,” she blurted. “As my sodding traitor of a friend would say, well, whoopee do.” The feral quality of each carefully enunciated word had Su-Lin flinching. She hugged her arms. Standing in front of Terry, she met his gaze and stumbled back a step at the fury and the contempt blazing from thundercloud irises. “You’re angry,” she muttered. “But why? You have had many women. You said so yourself. It was an experiment, that’s all.” “Harry, get out of here.” She couldn’t hear but for the pounding in her eardrums and the pulsing of the blood at her temples. Su-Lin knew from the flare of his nostrils, the bulging veins on his crossed forearms, and his wide-legged stance, Terrence’s control balanced on the point of a spinning top about to collapse. “I think maybe we should all sit down,” she countered, and her glance flicked behind him to where Thomas stood, shaking his head. “Sodding get out of here, Harrison. And you, you’re no fricking innocent, Su-Lin Taylor. I turn my back for a couple of hours and he’s deep throating you? And I’ve been so fricking careful to take it easy with you. Gloves are off, little aphrodisiac.” With those words, his shoulder contacted with her midriff, and he had her in a fireman’s hold, one arm clamped around her thighs. Hanging over his back, nose connecting midspine, his musky aroma distracted her, and she inhaled. The curve of his glutes had her mouth watering, and the memory of those rigid cheeks in profile sent a series of hot flashes from crown to little toes. Su-Lin wondered if Terrence had forgotten her gymnastic abilities, but she sighed and decided to go with the flow. Best not to resist until he’d calmed down. “What the hell are you doing, Ter? Don’t…don’t do this. You’ll regret it.” Thomas stalked forward until he blocked their path. “She’s a fricking slut, Thom. Women betray. That’s it in a nutshell. One hole’s just as good as another. I’ll toss her out when I’m done.” “Now that was offensive, and your gold chain’s scraping my right thigh,” Su-Lin complained and wriggled in his hold so she could clasp his belt and catch his attention. Grunting, Terry glared at her, but he adjusted his grip and slipped one hand under the cotton lapel, easing the metal away.

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“Thank you, much better. Um, except now the medal’s tickling that sensitive spot on the top of my thigh.” “Jaysus. Are we going to stand here all night finding the correct position?” Pleased since his tone sounded more baffled than angry, she replied, “Since that happens to be either standing on the floor, or in your bed, probably.” Harry sniggered and tried to disguise the sound with a strangled cough. Su-Lin raised her head and touched a finger to her lips. Clamping both hands over his mouth, Harry slid down the smooth bench until his boots met the rail. But Terry’s bunched shoulder muscles relaxed when he inhaled and then blew out a breath. By that point, Su-Lin had noticed the appealing view and the options available. Timing it perfectly, she hung limply, let her hand drift, cupped his bottom cheeks, and squeezed. “Jaysus,” he yelped, and both feet left the ground. His hold on the slippery silk of her jumpsuit slipped, and he bent forward and let gravity and his hands guide her to the ground. Winded, and a little dizzy, she concentrated on his medal and her blurry vision cleared. At no time at all had Terry’s touch been anything but gentle. When she stood on the deck, his hands bracketed her waist, and one forefinger stroked the curve of her hip. Su-Lin realized he wasn’t even aware of the caress. She covered the stroking digit with her hand. “I am sorry. Most women have practiced kissing by my age. I thought kissing was accepted as a casual act. It was pleasant, but it didn’t shatter every thought in my head, and I was aware of everything. When you touch me, even this small stroking, all I’m aware of is you. And I didn’t even want to see Harry’s penis. Actually, I’d prefer not to.” She scrunched her nose. “Sugar,” Harry choked out as he doubled over. In exquisite slow motion, he slid off the bench, and the ornate silver buckles on his cowboy boots rattled on contact with the deck. “Are you okay?” When Harry didn’t answer but seemed to be racked by coughs, Su-Lin patted his back. “Say something. Should we call a doctor? I think he’s having trouble breathing.” Thomas broke into a protracted snort-chortle combo, which developed into loud guffaws, and he collapsed onto the bench Harry had once occupied. The Texan managed to unbend and his face glistened with streaky tears. “Kiddo,” he croaked. “Sod it, you two. Shut the frick up. In case you didn’t realize it, Harry, you’ve just met the first woman in the world who has no interest in your prick,” Terrence grumped, but his mouth twisted, and he shook his head. “I don’t think what I said was funny. And I didn’t mean to insult you, Harry. Really, it was quite pleasant, and I’m sure you have a wondrous weapon, but it cannot compare to Terry’s.” “On my mama’s grave, if any of you repeat that last line, you’re Texas roadkill.” “Wondrous weapon?” Thomas croaked, and dissolved into sniggers. “Not another word. Either of you.” He glared at the two males. Reaching over, Terry cupped her jaw. “What am I to do with you, Su-Lin, darlin’?”

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“So, kissing is not acceptable. What is?” “Nada, not while we’re together.” He hooked a thumb at his chest. “I’m the only one for you, and you’re the only one for me.” “Okay, I’ll agree to that,” she said, waving a finger in his general direction. “But I want to go on record. It’s simply not fair. You’ve had years and years of experience, and I have none. Still, I can make up for my lack later on.” “Later on?” he growled. “Listen good, Su-Lin. I am a possessive man, at least where you’re concerned. It is not kosher to talk about my successor while you’re with me. Got that?” “I’ve watched the entire first season of Sex and the City since Aunt Emma bought the DVD three weeks ago.” She frowned when Terry’s jaw dropped open. “Since I missed out on that stuff in high school, it seemed a good way to catch up.” “Jaysus!” Thomas erupted, and he slapped his thighs repeatedly while swiping at his eyes and howling -- there was no other word for it -- howling with laughter. Su-Lin decided to ignore both him and Harry, who pounded the deck with one fist and gasped for breath between hearty chortles. “There is one thing the three of us should discuss,” Su-Lin replied. “I value your opinion, Thomas, so you may stay and help us find a solution, if you can stop laughing, that is.” Thomas levered off the bench and managed to stand. He shook his head, stifled all mirth by clamping his twitching lips together, bowed from the waist, and said, “I’m honored.” “Darlin’, is this liable to be a long discussion?” “Perhaps.” “Harry, grab us a bottle of scotch, will you?” Terry suggested. “I’ve never had scotch,” she said, brightening. “I’ve seen it on Mr. Toad in the Hole’s bar. I did sniff it once, when he wasn’t looking. It was quite pleasant.” “Darlin’.” Terrence twined their fingers together, sat on the bench, and pulled her onto his lap. “If you ever refer to me as pleasant, I’ll know you’ve moved on.” “What’s the problem, Su-Lin?” Thomas asked, and he settled into one of the scooped lounge chairs, one leg crossed over the other. “Harry’s evil stepmama inherits his daddy’s fortune if he doesn’t marry before he turns thirty, which happens in eight weeks.” Terry whistled. “I thought you had that settled. What happened?” At the bar, in the process of organizing a tray with their drinks, Harry glanced over his shoulder and quipped, “Bitch produced a will with a later date. Yeah, and it’s been verified.” “Tough break, boyo. She sure has it in for you.” “Harry has to have a virgin for a bride, and there has to be proof of consummation. He asked me to marry him. Ouch, that hurts.” She plucked at the hand tightening around her waist. “You are not marrying anyone.” “Don’t be silly, Terrence. My path is to marry and have at least two children, and to teach gymnastics. But it’s not my fate we have to settle, it’s Harry’s. We have to help him.” “Your father must have had aristocratic leanings,” Thomas mused.

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“Nah, Thom. My mama died after she and Daddy had a jealous spat, and on her deathbed, she pronounced me a bastard. The old coot had me tested before she was buried. Either she lied, or I got lucky. Daddy wanted a pure line. My firstborn has to be tested before he can inherit.” Harry deposited the tray on the table and asked, “Anyone not want a shot?” Taking their silence as agreement, he poured scotch into four tumblers. “Ice in the bucket, help yourselves.” Instead of taking a seat on the bench, Harry opted for the chair beside Thomas and took up a similar stance, nursing his liquor. “And we thought we had it bad.” Terry exchanged a grimace with his twin. “What exactly do you have to do?” Su-Lin took one sip of the alcohol and choked. It tasted awful, burned all the way down to her stomach, and took a long time getting there. She tipped the liquor into Terry’s glass. He glanced at her but didn’t say anything. “My potential bride has to submit to a physical before the wedding.” Harry gulped down the rest of his scotch. “Stepmama provides the physician and witnesses the test.” “Daunting,” Thomas said. “Do they stand guard over the honeymoon suite?” “Bull’s-eye.” “I was being sarcastic.” Thomas steepled long, elegant fingers beneath his chin. “Stepmama has the choice of honeymoon venue, independent security plus the same witnesses from before the test on guard during the night. Another exam the following day, and here’s the clincher, a DNA test on the sperm in her sweet little…” His gaze swept to Su-Lin. “Um, vagina.” He grimaced as he said the last word. “I have an idea,” Su-Lin said. “Technically, I’m still a virgin. At least Terry’s pretty sure. He couldn’t get --” Terry clamped his hand over her mouth. “Not another word, darlin’.” His jaw worked and typhoon clouds darkened his eyes to almost black, but his chin did an almost-imperceptible dip. “You’re sweeter than a chewy pecan praline to even think of offering yourself as a sacrifice, kiddo, but from the look on Terry’s face, there’s no way you’re doing the deed.” “Dead right on that point,” Terry said. “Harry, place an ad in the classifieds, and if I were you, I’d get Geoff to handle all the details. You don’t want to get involved in a legal tangle. I’d offer, but time’s not on my side right now.” Thomas’s expression intrigued Su-Lin; she’d bet anything he solved puzzles, Sudoku, and crosswords when bored. “I told Harry earlier that I’d help him choose someone.” “Then why’d you feel compelled to offer?” Terry growled in her ear. “I felt sorry for him,” she whispered. Su-Lin noted the lines of worry bracketing Terry’s eyes and slipped onto the bench beside him. He draped an arm over her shoulder and tugged. She edged closer until they touched at almost every juncture. Thomas stood and stretched, fists kneading the small of his back. “I’m way too old for staying up till the wee hours. Night all.” Su-Lin waited until Harry grabbed the bottle of scotch and headed below deck. “Your brother is very ill.”

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His eyes narrowed, and though he met her gaze, Terry’s head moved away from hers. “Why do you think that?” “His chi is shallow, and his movements are unbalanced.” “Explain.” No emotion, no expression crossed his face, but he held himself too still, and that gave away his tension. She placed her palm on his left pectoral, and her mouth curved when the muscles rippled under her hand. “Your lungs breathe deeply, from the stomach and diaphragm, like an athlete’s taught to do, or someone who practices yoga. Therefore, your skin is healthy, no broken capillaries, and your complexion is even, it glows. How we breathe affects how we live. Your brother’s complexion is uneven, and his skin has a yellowish tint. He takes short breaths.” As she spoke, Terry’s Adam’s apple bobbed as if he had difficulty swallowing. Su-Lin could almost taste the fear he had for his brother. “And the rest?” “Each of us has a rhythm we walk to, and there’s a natural flow, a natural cadence. Your brother’s first and second steps are hesitant and very deliberate, as if his balance is off.” Beneath her palm, his lungs expelled air, and tense muscles slackened. He covered her hand with his, thumb fingering her knuckles. “Thomas has a brain tumor. Because they’ve caught it in the earliest stage, it’s operable. The prognosis is optimistic, but there is a chance he could lose some motor skills. Right now he’s having migraines often and suffers dizzy spells. The operation’s in New York in three weeks. I’m going with him and staying during his recovery.” “I am so sorry. He’ll be fine, Terrence, and live a long and happy life. I feel it here.” She pointed to her aching heart. “Chinese philosophy?” Doubt and cynicism pulled the corners of his mouth down more than gravity ever would even if he lived to a century. “I’m too mixed up for one philosophy to do the trick.” Her voice wavered; she’d never shared these thoughts with anyone, not since grade nine, and she could still hear the mocking laughter of her classmates if she closed her eyes. For long seconds, she hesitated, but the rightness of this man, the absolute conviction they were bonded, fated, gave Su-Lin the impetus to continue. “My mother was a Catholic who adopted many Taoist principles and lived by them. My father picked from Buddhism, Confucianism, and Taoism. I added in a bit of Christianity and came up with something that works for me.” “And my brother’s fate -- where does that come from?” Dawn streaked the dark sky and a golden hue rimmed the horizon. “Here’s where it all breaks down -- intuition.” “Women’s intuition?” She’d never seen him so somber, and he fiddled with the pendant he always wore. If nerve endings made a noise, alarm bells would fill the air. Su-Lin had never had a best friend; her closest confidante as an adolescent had been her neighbor’s cat, Spartacus. Her mother had retreated into the past and a strange combination of Mandarin and Swedish before Su-Lin’s fourteenth birthday. She called on every ounce of learned courage.

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“No, Su-Lin’s. Whenever I meet someone, I sort of know if my fate’s entwined with theirs. I knew you would be my first lover. And I know your brother will be happy.” One eyebrow lifted and his lips twisted, and she knew he thought her naive, perhaps even foolish. “What about Emma and James? Where do they fit?” “It’s not that I can predict the future. I only know if someone will play a big part in my life or not. As strange as this may sound, I don’t see them in my future, and I wonder about that.” She tilted her head. “You don’t like Uncle James, do you?” “He treats you like a child.” “Aunt Emma says he feels guilty about not contacting me earlier. He’s settling a trust on me, Terrence. For the first time in my life, I won’t have to worry about money. I’m truly grateful to both of my relatives. Besides,” she said and lifted a shoulder, “they’re all I have.” “So, according to Su-Lin’s intuition, your relatives won’t play a part in your life.” He traced the outline of her ear, and a delicious shiver-shudder chased the hairs at the nape of her neck. “And I’ll be your first lover. How long are we together?” She tried to keep her face neutral but couldn’t make eye contact, instead studied the backs of her hands. “I can’t tell. The way you make me feel clouds things in my mind.” “I begin to suspect you’ve what the Irish call an old soul.” He cradled her face, large, callused palms radiated heat and comfort, and she leaned into his hold. “I know I’m not like other girls my age.” A smile curved her mouth, and she sought to distract him. “The sun’s coming up.” “Let’s watch it from my balcony, shall we?” One arm crept around her waist, the other cradled her knees, and Terry stood, holding her high against his chest. Before she could blink three times, they were lying on his cabin’s balcony, their cheeks kissed by a playful Mediterranean breeze. She loved the way he liked to watch dawn break. “Like it?” He’d unrobed both her and himself in record time. Dazzled by the rapid turnabout in his mood and their location, Su-Lin shook her head to clear it, realized when he frowned what she’d done and smiled. “You move so fast you make me dizzy.” He shifted and dropped a kiss on her forehead and tightened the arm wrapped around her waist. Resting her cheek on his chest, she traced the pattern of the gold medal he always wore. As the engraving came into focus, she lifted her head. “Is this real?” She fingered the pendant. “Hmm.” “You competed in the Olympics? And won gold?” His sensuous mouth pursed, but he didn’t open his eyes. “Terrence,” she coaxed, tapping a finger on his breastbone. “Tell me. I can live the experience through you. What was it like? How did you deal with the pressure? I have a million questions.”

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Lips curling at the corners, he said, in a perfect imitation of Harry’s sexy drawl, “Sugar, that’ll cost you a bunch of sweet kisses.” She giggled and peppered light pecks and soft, openmouthed kisses all over his rib cage. His skin held the tang of sweet navel oranges, and she surrendered to temptation and licked him. “You taste of oranges and smoke, and…” she said, sniffed, then continued, “cinnamon?” “As Harry would say, bull’s-eye, darlin’, you should be in the perfume industry. How’d you get the cinnamon bit?” “I can smell it. Is it some oil?” “A family in the village where I grew up makes this special orange-cinnamon soap. I’ve always used it.” The down comforter he’d wrapped both of them in slipped off one shoulder, and he tucked it into place. “I’ve never been on the sea before this trip, and I never, ever imagined I’d be here on this luxurious yacht with a naked Norseman.” “Norseman?” He chucked her chin, and one corner of his mouth lifted. “That’s what I thought when I first saw you, that you were a Norse god and I’d dreamed you up.” “I am a fricking genius, darlin’.” “You are. Only a genius could design such a perfect balcony. No one can see us, but we have this magnificent view of the endless, eternal Mediterranean. We can feel the cool dawn breeze on our faces and smell the mysteries the sea holds -- fish, salt, the tackiness. You are a genius.” Su-Lin admired the deft movements of Terry’s long fingers as he twisted the wire holding the champagne’s cork free. “No, little aphrodisiac, I’m a genius because I drank a fifth of scotch, we’re about to drink Tattinger’s finest champagne, and I may just be able to resist pounding into that sweet glove of yours.” “Is it going to feel as good as when you licked me? As when I did you there?” “You mean my wondrous weapon?” He chuckled and rested the pad of his thumb on the pulse at her neck, which thumped faster. “Where on God’s green isle did you hear such a phrase?” A white seagull waltzed around a smoky pelican flapping to the sea’s surface, and their squawks and calls drew attention to their elegant dance. As they watched, the sun’s rays captured the seagull’s pristine feathers, and with his outstretched wings and bent head, the bird morphed into a miniature angel radiating a supernatural light. “Dad’s collection of books included an illustration of the sexual arts. When I came across it, I was teaching myself Mandarin, so I translated every word. The man’s penis was called a wondrous weapon.” “Mmm, you speak Mandarin?” he asked and separated the comforter to expose her breasts. “I’ve dreamed about these nipples since that morning in the steam room.” He used both hands, fingers circling the firm undersides of her breasts, and she melted and arched her neck when teeth grazed the curve of her shoulder. Lips and tongue trailed hot and moist up to her clavicle, scalding flesh and sending sparks to her curling toes.

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Restless, energized, she rubbed her bottom against his arousal. How it excited her to see him hard and pulsing. Su-Lin opened her eyes, and there his cock stood, erect, ruby red, and proud, poking up between her thighs. “I think we should name it,” she said and traced the slit with one forefinger. “Mmmm, I have no objection. What’s wondrous weapon in Mandarin?” His voice vibrated against her flesh, adding another dimension to the combustible sensations sliding up her spine. “Has anyone else named it before?” The notion stun-gunned her lungs, and she stopped breathing. “Don’t go stiff on me, darlin’. No worries, you’re the first. Time to get rid of this.” He tugged the comforter, and it fell to the padded balcony floor. “So much for alcohol as a sexual depressant.” Terry’s hands surged and urged, and Su-Lin complied, falling onto her back, and the rising sun flared on skin overheated by rising passions. No limb, no muscle, no organ left untouched, unworshipped, by kneading hands, laving tongue, grazing teeth, suckling mouth. Synapses snapped, electricity popped, and Su-Lin’s athletic body curled and stretched and morphed to his lead, to where contact fired intuitive, age-old responses. Legs curled around his waist, and her flexibility allowed her to keep his cock grinding against her pearl of heaven, and when he shifted, leaving that spot, she bit his chest, and said, “Stay.” “My little Asian aphrodisiac, this time is mine, all mine. Darlin’, everything about you arouses me. Your button nipples.” He grunted, slipped sideways, and feathered his tongue around said button, met her gaze, and nipped the tip. She gasped, tangled one hand in his long hair, and guided him to the other bereft, burning point. “More.” “As milady wishes.” His muffled voice resonated across the whole breast. He complied, and she held him there and moaned, “Don’t stop.” Terry turned onto his side, used one knee to nudge her thighs wide apart, and let his leg rest in the space between, holding her in place. His right arm crept around her left side, and he bent his head to her breast and suckled, drawing the flesh tight into his mouth, tongue rough and hungry. Shooting stars exploded, and she went on sensation overload, when he shared the wealth, his other hand responding to the unspoken pleas of a twin throbbing nipple. Magic fingers, ridged with delicious hardness, rolled, tugged, and pinched, tindering an inferno. Her hands, feet, fingers fought to return the rockets exploding behind her eyelids. Body twisting and squirming, toes rubbing his calves, fingernails grazing his belly, tracing a figure eight from hip to hip. Lungs blistered to take a breath, all training forgotten, as primitive female subjugated any civilized response. Terry’s foot became a ruler holding her thighs at his mercy, and she protested when sensation left her breast, then rained kisses over his chest, neck, and anyplace her lips found purchase, when his hot, hot hand cupped her mound of Venus. Miraculous fingers separated the folds to paradise; one large, super talented thumb flicked and tortured the button to heaven. Slick, desperate, igniting, she begged and ordered, “Now, please, now.” And the Norse god had mercy and heard her prayers, and those large, probing fingers twisted, ground, and gave one final tweak. Earth, sun, sea, and sky converged, and he swallowed

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her scream with his mouth, drinking her essence, while his hand continued to minister and milk every last spasm.

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Chapter Six  “Are we going to discuss it?” Terrence studied the swirling amber liquid in his glass. He knew the topic to which Thomas referred, but wanted to prolong the casual camaraderie that had developed between them. For the last couple of hours, ten years of bitter separation had vanished, and it was as if he and Thomas had never been parted, never suffered a life-altering rift. Formerly drawn lines in the sand eroded, much like the receding beach fronting the Promenade du Anglais’s boardwalk, which paralleled the smooth curves of Nice’s Baie du Anglais. “Where do we start? Ball’s in your court.” His twin’s mouth curved. “I can’t get over how your accent’s changed. You no longer speak the Queen’s English, brother.” He checked his watch. “Are you sure you shouldn’t get back to Su-Lin?” Terry’d left an exhausted Su-Lin sleeping in his cabin and had been in the midst of rearranging the Glory’s itinerary to match his revised plan to extend the cruise when he spotted Thomas strolling along the main deck. Needing a shot of java, he’d invited his twin to join him in the ship’s library. He hadn’t recognized the room was a miniaturized replica of the one they grew up with until Thomas’s pointed comment as they stepped through the doorway. Both men had a wry chortle about the vagaries of the subconscious, and any tension between them had dissipated. Coffee soon gave way to scotch on his part and cognac on Thomas’s. “Trust me, she needs to rest. Now, who’s avoiding the subject? Dive in, Thom, let’s get this done.” The Glory’s study mimicked an early-nineteenth-century Englishman’s club, with burnished mahogany paneling, bookcase-lined walls, and oversize leather armchairs strewn among intricately patterned cream- and green-flecked burgundy carpets. Open sliding glass windows graced the exterior wall, and smoke from a stumped cigar in a crystal ashtray at the edge of a side table eddied over the Mediterranean.

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“It was my fault that Carol-Ann seduced you. I knew what she was doing that summer, saw the way she managed to touch you at every opportunity, flaunt her body.” Thomas slumped against the chair back, and the leather squeaked in protest. “I hated the way you fell under her spell, that you preferred her company to mine. I was angry, resentful, and jealous. It had always been the two of us, and then…” Terry leaned forward in his chair, elbows braced midthigh, one hand cradling his tumbler of liquor. “How was it your fault, Thom? The only person’s who’s ever been at fault is me. If I’d had any good in me at all, it wouldn’t have happened. ” “That’s where you’re wrong. Entirely wrong. Carol-Ann was the adult, Ter. She seduced you. None of it was your fault.” “I screwed her every day, all day, for the two weeks we were in Scotland. I couldn’t keep my hands off her. I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I couldn’t stop.” Terry downed the contents of his tumbler. “I fantasized about Father dying and me marrying her.” He snorted. “I can’t even think of those days without wanting to puke.” “I saw it happening, and instead of sticking to you like glue, I ran off to London, leaving you alone with her.” Thomas lifted one shoulder. “As soon as Carol-Ann handed me that envelope with that letter saying I was a finalist in an art competition I’d never entered, I knew.” “Fricking hell. You never entered that competition?” Terry dug one hand through hair tangled by the gusting breezes. “Was it a trick?” “No, there was a contest all right, and when I got to London, I found out Carol-Ann’s friend managed the art gallery holding the contest. She must have filched one of my canvases and sent it down. It was all fixed, including my win.” “I don’t understand. Why did you go?” “It was the easy way out. I know I should have told you the truth, but I was so scared you wouldn’t believe me, that you’d side with Carol-Ann. I was too preoccupied with my own issues.” Startled, Terry scrutinized the wry curve of his twin’s twisting mouth, and recognition dawned. His fingers tightened around the smooth crystal, and the scotch sloshed from rim to rim, ice cubes clinking against the glass. “You knew by then?” “That I was gay?” Thomas asked, arching one eyebrow. He nodded and expelled a long breath. “Do you remember Viscount Emberly’s son? That summer in the Lake District?” “Emberly’s heir? Jaysus, Thom.” Terry took a slug of his drink, collapsed heavily against the chair back, and stretched his long legs. “I’d never have known. He was a man’s man, won every fricking steeplechase in the country for a decade. Did you two have an affair?” “Not that summer, but the following spring.” “After Father married Carol-Ann and brought her to live with us.” Terry shook his head. “I’d always thought things changed between us after she arrived. But for you, it had started a good two months earlier. Why didn’t you tell me?” “After that bathroom incident at Eton? I couldn’t face your contempt.” Thomas shrugged and sipped his cognac. “Or worse, take the chance of losing your affection.” “I was ashamed, you know. I should have intervened earlier when the others ganged up on Newel in the bathroom. I don’t know why I hesitated.”

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“What a classic escapade that was. The whole class ganging up on the obvious fag. I was glad when you stopped them even though you paid for it afterward. It took a while for the gaylover rumors to die down, and I couldn’t add to that. You were under so much group pressure.” Thomas’s chest expanded with his slow inhale. “I wasn’t sure how you felt and had become too much of a coward to run the risk of telling you.” “And then came Carol-Ann.” Terry retrieved the decanter from the side table, started to pour more into his glass, hesitated, and thumped it back into place. “And you caught the two of us in flagrante delicto when she was called down for my behavior. You should have called me out then. Looking back on it, I was desperate for you to notice, to stop me.” “You were drinking so much by then. Every time I tried to broach any serious topic, we had a shouting match.” “It ate away at me, the sin of it all. All Carol-Ann had to do was crook her finger, and like Pavlov’s dog, I tucked my tail under my legs and ran to sniff at her quim.” He glugged a good mouthful of scotch. “I hated her, I hated me, I hated Father for leaving her alone, and I hated you for being the good twin.” The Glory’s horn sounded, the twin engines’ humming dimmed, and a cannonball splash preceded the anchor’s plunge to the sea’s depths. As the ship swung toward the Nice waterfront, the prevailing wind stilled. An occasional car horn blared above the hum of city noises, scooters, traffic whistles, and a series of church bells struck eleven gongs. “A bad B movie, that’s what we were.” “And she got exactly what she wanted. Did you ever wonder why the hell Father married her, Thom? I still can’t figure it out. It couldn’t have been sex. Otherwise, he would have stuck around to enjoy it. Certainly wasn’t to give us a mother figure, so why?” “In profile, in a certain light, she looks like Mother.” At Terrence’s raised-to-the-hairline eyebrows, his twin added, “You never noticed?” “Frick.” Terry spewed the word and tried out different images against his eyelids. “He missed Mama. Sodding bastard. Didn’t he notice that dollar sign tattooed on Carol-Ann’s pupils?” “You didn’t, at first.” “Rub it in. It took me a long time to sort things out afterward. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew Father would throw me out if I hit you.” He reached for the scotch again, arrested his actions, clenched his fists, and slouched back into the butter-soft leather. “It was the only way to exorcize my guilt.” Thomas lurched to his feet and grasped the edge of a bookshelf. He moved over to the open windows and closed his eyes. More humid than Monte Carlo, the temperature in Nice proved a good ten degrees hotter. A halfhearted draft attempted to cool the morning but succeeded only in lifting the blond wings bordering his twin’s temples. “Once I came into my trust, I hired a firm to find you. They sent me photographs of you training for the Royal Marines. I wrote you letters, but I never sent them. Until that cocktail reception in Antibes, I wasn’t sure how you’d react. Tell me the truth, Ter, does it make a difference? Me being gay?” “Fricking no, Thomas,” Terry snorted, and he rose. “I’m not a sodding insecure adolescent any longer. To be honest, it wasn’t you being gay that made me go off the deep end. It was that

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you didn’t trust me enough to tell me. It was me being so ugly inside. It was me screwing my stepmother. It was me spinning out of control. It was all me, and I took it out on you.” Edging forward, he stood inches away from his twin. “And now? Where do we go from here?” Some unknown force had them facing each other. “I’d like us to be brothers again. You?” Promises, futures, hopes, regrets boomeranged from one pair of storm-colored eyes to the other. “We never stopped being brothers, Ter, we just didn’t speak for a while.” “Too true, boyo, too true.” “Boyo? After all these years, I prayed you’d purged that bloody term from your vocabulary.” “When it gets such a rise out of you? Never.” When they embraced, Terry closed his eyes and offered a silent prayer of thanks. Close to tears and embarrassing mushiness, he thumped Thomas’s back and growled. “Food, boyo. Me stomach’s a-growling like a wolf.” “Still can’t admit to strong emotion, eh, Ter? You need to embrace your feminine side.” “Embrace this, boyo,” Terry said and flipped him the finger. “Always the diplomatic response. But you’re right. I skipped breakfast, and these days my headaches are exacerbated if I don’t eat regularly.” “We’ll have to head into Nice if we want food. Our new chef isn’t scheduled to join us until the weekend, and I’m almost certain the galley’s near empty.” “And you’re itching to get back to Su-Lin. Don’t look so surprised. You’ve glanced to the bow four times in the last minute, and you have that lusty look on your face, not to mention your tenting pants.” Heat warmed Terry’s cheeks, and for a second, he almost averted his eyes. “Shite, I see you’ve lost your reticence. We sure as Sheila never talked like this before.” “Gay men are notorious for being frank about sexual matters. I have no reticence left. I imagine we both have the same level sex drive, Ter, just different fixations.” “Okay, boyo, this is one area I’m going to need to ease into.” Terry swallowed a whole bunch of images he wasn’t prepared to handle, not right then. “Do me one good and organize the Boston Whaler with Austen? I’ll get Su-Lin and meet you on deck in an hour or so. We can have lunch in Nice.” “An hour? ’Nuff time?” “Hardly, but within the limited scope of activity available to me…” Terry grouched, waving a what-have-you gesture at his twin. “What do you mean?” “I find myself strangely reluctant to take her virginity.” He avoided his twin’s direct gawk. “No one’s more surprised than me. I think I’ve developed a conscience at this late stage of life. In the female arena, I’m oh for oh, Thom. I don’t have relationships, I screw.” His fingers snagged on a tangled hair knot. “I so do not want any of this.”

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“Is this some sort of test?” “Maybe. I don’t know. She’s ten years younger than I am, but in terms of life experience, the gap between us is higher than fricking Everest. Half of me wants to put her in a rowboat and set her adrift. The other half can’t stand for her to be out of sight, not for a heartbeat.” “I’m as possessive as you are. It’s one of the things that doesn’t cut it in gay circles. I knew exactly how you felt last night watching her and Harrison in a lip-lock. It amazed me you didn’t pound him unconscious.” “If nothing else, I’ve learned control over the last decade.” “You mean I was the last man you beat into a coma?” “A coma? You were in a fricking coma?” “Sticking it to you a bit. I was out for half a day, nothing life-threatening.” “Jaysus, Thom, I’ve enough guilt to live with as it is,” he said, eyeing the doorway and calculating time to orgasm. “I’m out of here. See you later.” The walk down the corridor seemed endless. Terry slammed into his cabin, locked the door, and made it into Su-Lin’s room within minutes. He heard the sound of running water, and visions of Su-Lin naked and foamy slithered into his brain. Six days. Six interminable days, and he’d become so obsessed with her, with sheathing his aching prick in her hot little pussy. He thunked his head against the head’s doorframe and allowed the thought that had been percolating since their first night to formulate. If he took her, if he made her his, could he ever let her go? Fear held him paralyzed, and he knew he’d hold off for as long as he could. A woman-child like Su-Lin would never stay with a black soul like his. Lifting his eyelids, he spied the outline of her nubile body through the sheer plastic shower stall. As he watched, she bent at the waist to scrub her toes. Desperation-fueled lust had his cock throbbing, hard as granite, balls so tight, so locked, it wouldn’t take much to lose what was left of his precarious control. Wet, slick pussy, pink folds, drops of moisture like iridescent pearls nestled in soft, sable ringlets; Terry’s hands balled into fists. The remembered taste of her nectar fed every jerky movement; he discarded his T-shirt in the bedroom and toed off his jeans before he opened the translucent shower enclosure. “Terrence,” she said, one onyx eyebrow lifting, wet black hair clinging to her shoulders and back. “I woke up dreaming about you.” “Did you, darlin’? What kind of dream, my sweet aphrodisiac?” He nipped the curve of her nape and fitted his throbbing cock along the seam of her ass. He assumed possession of the soap. Sniffing the soft lather, Terry murmured, “Peach. Somehow, I see you as a cherry, red, round, glistening, waiting for my mouth. I’ll have to order new soap.” He’d worked up a thick layer of foam between his hands. “Turn around, darlin’. Stick your foot on the bench. Such strong thighs.” He trailed a finger along her quadriceps muscle. “Wider, spread your legs wider. That’s it. Jaysus, your pussy’s pouting.” He used both hands, one holding the hood of her clit, the other massaging the little nub, fingering, pinching. “That’s it, work it against my thumb, I can feel you starting, your tight tunnel spasming. Do you know how much I want to be inside you, to feel you milking me? There isn’t a second I don’t picture my cock sliding into your pussy. That’s it, darlin’, grind against my hand.”

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Her eyelids drifted shut, and her knees buckled, but he kept her standing, both palms and fingers covering her back to front, sliding, slipping through honeyed cream. She gave a shout and crumpled. Terry scooped one hand under her knees and cradled her tight against his chest. He ate up the distance to his bed. They both tumbled onto the soft mattress in a tangle of caressing hands and mouths, the soft sheets absorbing shower moistness from their skin. She sighed and a whisper of air tickled his collarbone. “I’m boneless, I feel all sugary and warm, and all these little aftershocks are making me so wet. Terrence, why are you waiting?” Pretending to ignore her meaning, he attempted to deflect the issue. “You know I’m not a patient man. It’s my turn next.” “Why won’t you make love to me?” Terry had to meet her gaze; the waver in her voice did him in. “You’re so young, Su-Lin. There are a lot of ways we can enjoy each other without me taking your virginity.” “You don’t want to anymore?” Her lower lip quivered, and he couldn’t stand the hurt evident in her slumped shoulders. Crushing her to him, he feathered kisses all over her face and whispered, “There’s nothing more I want in the world. But, darlin’, I don’t want to hurt you, and no matter what we do I won’t be able to avoid that.” “I have it on good authority that it only hurts the first time,” she said, lifting her head to look him in the eyes. “I’ve dreamed about having you inside of me, of you making us one.” “Are you sure, darlin’?” He thumbed the dimple in her chin. “I’m sure, Terrence. I’m very sure.” She met his gaze head-on, unflinching, wearing a tentative smile. “Then let me make your first time special, Su-Lin Taylor.” “Not today?” she asked, angling her chin to the right. The disappointment evident in her mournful question had his lips twitching. “Not today. Shh,” he said, cupping her cheeks. “Don’t look like that. There are things I can do, that I need, to make it as easy as possible, and I don’t have them now. Will you trust me on this?” “I trust you,” she answered, heaving a long sigh. He chuckled. “But that doesn’t mean we’re finished today. Not by a long shot. Open your eyes, Su-Lin. We begin today with sixty-nine. Head against the pillows, woman.” He chose lurid words, cold instructions, and his lips firmed when her eyes jerked away from his. A flood of color stained her cheeks, and one plump lower lip quivered. The slight tremor stabbed his soul. Terry brushed a forefinger along soft, rosy flesh. “Sweet Su-Lin, I’m a randy ass to be so vulgar. You make me want to be a better man.” Concern lit her flashing eyes; she touched two fingers to his lips. “You are a wonderful man, Terrence O’Connor.” “I’m no hero, darlin’.” “You’re my hero,” she whispered. For one suspended moment, he searched for a way to make those words true, but CarolAnn’s face rose between them, blurring his vision.

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Seeking refuge in lust, Terry buried his face between her thighs and inhaled, absorbing the musky smell of her arousal, tongue lapping and licking, fingers itching for penetration. Inserting both thumbs, he kneaded, pressed, gnawed lightly at the dewy knob, now twice its resting size, flushed deep red, a vision of heady beauty. “I love the way you smell, the way your body opens to me. Come again, darlin’, one more time.” He ate at her folds, slurping up every drop of moisture, swirling the cream toward her center, edging both thumbs higher and higher until he met her hymen. Working a furious rhythm, a staccato burst of pumping digits, he nipped her clit, sawing his teeth back and forth, and she screamed and locked her thighs around his head. In a split second, he reversed their positions. “Cup your breasts. Mound them together, that’s it, darlin’.” He dipped his hand between her legs, coating his fingers, and then spread the cream over her breasts. “Hold, hold there, keep them squeezed together.” Wrapping his hands around hers, he pumped, using her large nipples as purchase. “Terry, pinch, pinch harder,” she squealed and clamped his fingers together over her nipples, hips arching, knees bent. “Oh please, please bite them. I need, I need…Terry.” Her long, drawn-out scream slammed his balls tight. The intensity of his climax spurted semen onto her chest, and she lapped at his cum, licking and crooning, suckling the whole head into her mouth. Small hands flitted and fluttered around his ass, his groin, threading through his pubic hair. “What are you saying?” he asked, and the effort to lift his head almost proved too much. Rolling over, he pulled her on top of him and used the slick moisture to work his semihard prick between soft, wet folds. She mumbled something into his chest. “Su-Lin, darlin’, what did you say?” “I said,” she said, rising on her forearms, “that ‘wondrous weapon’ doesn’t do it justice.” She traced a finger over the crown of his cock. “Do you think one day I can swallow every drop? You can teach me how to do it right. In high school, one of the cheerleaders was the blowjob queen, I heard them talking about it. I want to be the Glory’s blowjob queen.” “No way, darlin’. I am the only recipient of your blowjobs. In case I didn’t make it clear the other night. If Harrison so much as touches you again, he’s dead meat. For the duration, you belong to me. Got that?” She cocked her head to one side. “Then you must belong to me. That’s only fair.” “Trust me. You landed that catch in the steam room the first day we met. I’ve been dreaming of your pussy ever since.” “Terrence?” She traced a figure eight on his chest, and the slight, absentminded caress had him rushing in another direction. “What, darlin’?” He captured one hand and nibbled on her fingertips. “How will it work? I’m not on the Pill or anything.” “That’s one issue we have to resolve. I have to admit taking your virginity excites me more than I thought possible. As an aphrodisiac, it’s mind-blowing. But I don’t want to hurt you. Christ almighty, the wait’s near killing me.” He cradled her head between his large, callused palms. “I’m not sure I can be gentle, but I’ll try.” “It only hurts once, right? It does seem like it’s too big for where it’s supposed to go.” She curled one hand around his thickening cock. “I keep trying to imagine you inside of me, and the

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notion makes me dizzy. My dreams are all filled with you, with this.” She suckled the tip, working her tongue into his slit. He groaned and guided her mouth to his aching balls. “No matter how many fricking times we do this, it’s not enough. I screw your breasts, come all over them, and I want you again, instantly.” “Is it normal? This aching, this yearning? This constant throbbing, here.” Two fingers separated her folds, and she showed him the little pulsing point, and a wave of musk coated his brain. High on pussy scent mingled with semen and some flowery perfume, Terry’s mind shut down. His balls contracted, the sac slamming into his pelvis, and his hips lifted off the mattress. “Suck my balls, darlin’. Roll them around in your mouth. Yes, yes, like that.” He squished a pillow in one hand and gave over to her tentative licking, the sweet purring of her lips against his cock, the way she nibbled a path around the crown, mouth and teeth firing an inferno. “I’ll get better,” she murmured, and he moaned aloud. “Any better and I’ll die. Come here, darlin’. You’re so fricking wet already. Damn, you turn me on. Handjobs, Su-Lin, handjobs for now until I’m inside you. For the whole fricking night, for the day, until I can’t move anymore. This is mine.” He angled his head and captured her lips. Using both hands, he nudged her thighs farther apart, pinching her clit, inserting two fingers, then three; then she clamped him hard, hands pumping his cock, and she shook and shook and screamed into his mouth. His fingers dug into her backside, and he ground her mound and ejaculated. Commands from brain to muscles resulted in absolute lethargy. The effort to half-raise eyelids almost exhausted him. He spoke his thoughts without realizing it. “I’m a bloody teenager around you. I come at the drop of a hat, just smelling your musk gets me to the point of no return. Offer me those big-ass nipples, darlin’. Let me suckle for a bit.” “Terrence.” She tunneled her hands into his hair and tugged him away from her breasts. “They ache so much, it’s like they’re on fire. Bite them again and again and again.” Before he could respond, the intercom crackled. “Aunt and uncle are on the way. Better get decent pronto.” Terry fisted both hands and clenched his jaw. “I wish we could stay here all day long,” she mumbled. “Life’s not fair.” “Do you realize that I came here horny as all hell, we’ve screwed around twice, and I’m leaving hornier than I was before? My libido’s on raging overdrive.” “Jennifer.” Aunt Emma’s voice preceded a rapid knocking on her cabin door. “Uncle James has organized a boat to take us into Nice.” “Are you coming too?” she asked and ran her tongue around the crown of his prick. “’Nuff, darlin’,” he whispered, imprisoning her wandering hands. “I’ve duties to attend to. You go and have lunch with your aunt and uncle. Tonight, you dine with me. Got that?” “Aye-aye,” she said, wearing a broad grin and tipping him a salute. “Dinner with you, here?” “No, a cozy little restaurant in the heart of Nice.” By the time he’d showered and dressed, the Boston Whaler had already docked at the Nice harbor. In the far distance, Terry made out James, Emma, Su-Lin, and Thomas strolling along the

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Promenade du Anglais. A serious wind gust churned around the wide cove sending Su-Lin’s long, inky hair swirling around her elbows. He had to do something. The woman had him burning up with need and his craving for her had grown desperate, a hunger too intense to be sated over the coming three weeks. He found Harry in the engine room. “What’s up with you? You look like you lost your best friend.” “It’s been a couple of hellish days. Thom has a brain tumor.” “So I heard. He tells me the prognosis is good.” “It’s risky surgery. I’m planning on going to New York with him. I’ll probably be gone three weeks at the least. Are you okay with that?” “Yeah. Aside from getting married, I’ve no other plans. FYI, your father went into Nice earlier. Didn’t look too pleased either. Had a phone call from his lawyer.” “Something about Carol-Ann or the divorce probably.” Terry scratched his chin. “Austen took a message from the new chef. She’s due in this morning. I’m picking her up from the airport.” “Two days early? I’m not complaining, but nothing’s going according to plan. I still have no clue as to why my father’s here. The old man has to have some sort of hidden agenda.” “Does he know about the tumor?” “Not according to Thom. Something’s bugging me about the aunt and uncle. But I can’t put my finger on it.” “Do you hear that noise? Like gears grating?” “No, can’t say I do.” “That light in the cooling system’s coming on intermittently. Might be a good idea to let the Glory do a dry dock when you’re in New York, get a complete overhaul.” “It’d be perfect timing. Plan on it.” Terry checked his watch. “When are you heading to the airport?” “Now, if I want to be on time. You know what this new chef looks like?” “No, Sarita hired her. They went to culinary school together. Take a sign with her name. I’ll ride into Nice with you.” Less than half an hour later, the men separated, Harry heading to the airport while Terry made for the red-light district. It didn’t take long to find the particular toy he wanted, but a couple of other items caught his eye and he added them to his shopping basket. The sex kitten behind the counter offered to giftwrap his purchases and batted lashes clumped by a heavy application of sooty mascara at him. For long seconds, Terry debated taking the pretty girl up on her obvious invitation, renting a hotel room, and spending the afternoon pounding into her. His cock didn’t even twitch. He glared in the general direction of his groin and pursed his mouth. Wayward organ. Meandering back to the docks, brown parcel tucked under one arm, Terry scoured the crowded promenade for any sign of Su-Lin or her relatives. About to flip open his cell phone, he caught a glimpse of a tall, stunning redhead, elegance personified, strolling in his direction, a smile pasted on her face. His stomach careened, doing a double dive. Carol-Ann.

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Chapter Seven  Thomas proved to be an entertaining companion, knowledgeable about Nice and its environs. He regaled her with anecdotes about some of the buildings, the central plaza, and the exotic cultural makeup of the population. Somewhere around midday, they wandered away from her uncle and aunt and stopped in the historic section of the town. He nipped into an otherworldly bookstore that smelled of leather and stale cigar smoke, and Su-Lin followed, her curiosity piqued. The proprietor, a wizened sixtyish man with a shock of white hair and large horn-rimmed glasses, greeted Thomas by name and the two men conversed in rapid-fire French. After a barrage of questions and answers, the gentleman unfurled a detailed antique map of Nice dated in the early eighteenth century. Someone skilled in calligraphy had penned in towns along the coastline, and she recognized Nice, Villefranche-su-Mer, and a few others. Su-Lin choked when she heard the price of the article, but Thomas didn’t bat an eyelid. He paid for the scroll and ordered the map delivered to a town named Grasse, to the north of Nice. “Do you collect maps?” Almost noon, and the Mediterranean sun blinded them when they left the dark bookstore. Su-Lin shaded her eyes and blinked while studying the throngs wandering through the narrow, cobblestoned streets leading to the Cours Saleya, home to Nice’s amazing open-air market. She glanced at the man strolling with her, an exact replica of Terrence, and marveled anew at the extraordinary stroke of fate that had brought her to this point, this place, these two men. “I don’t, but I have a friend who does. And this map will be of particular interest to him. His family runs one of the largest perfumeries in France. Somewhere in the fourteenth century, one of his ancestors married one of mine, so we’re very distant cousins.” The smell of trays filled with dried blossoms reached her nose before she could identify them by sight, purple lavender spears, tiny lilac clovers, and bright pink peony petals. Elaborate floral arrangements, some bonsailike in simplicity, others reminiscent of the complex lady of the manor tradition decorated a flower stall to the left of them.

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Distracted, sniffing a pale lemon tea rose tipped with cherry edges, Su-Lin remarked, “I always wanted to have cousins. The lady who lived across the street from us had a zillion relatives. There were always people coming and going, and children playing.” “You are an only child, I take it?” Thomas offered her his elbow, and she smiled at him and linked their arms together. No tingling, no electrical connection, so like Terrence and so different. Simply being in Terry’s vicinity made her skin prickle with anticipation, scattered her thoughts in feverish directions, painted kaleidoscopic images on her pupils. “Yes. I didn’t even know I had relatives until my mother died. My mother’s lawyer was the one to actually find out about them when he went through her will.” “How did you meet my brother?” Su-Lin’s cheeks flamed. “We met in Antibes. We were staying in the same hotel, and I went into the men’s steam room by mistake. He was there.” Rushing on, she switched subjects. “What happened between Terrence and your father? And you? He didn’t look pleased to see you the other day.” “The last time I talked to Terry, around ten years ago, I came out to him. I’m gay, Su-Lin. I worked up the courage to tell Terry on our sixteenth birthday. He didn’t take the news well.” “I don’t understand,” she said and scrunched her nose. “It’s not as if it’s contagious.” “There were extenuating circumstances, and it was a bad time for the Gore family. After my mother’s death, my father retreated into work. He started traveling the globe, and we rarely saw him. Then he remarried, a woman twenty years his junior, more our age than his.” His tone changed on the last sentence, becoming gruffer. He clipped out each word, and the muscles in Thomas’s forearms stiffened under her fingers. “You didn’t like your new stepmother?” “She was never any sort of mother figure. I hated Carol-Ann on the spot. She’s one of those big-hair, Texan, beauty-queen types, a selfish vamp who’d found her sugar daddy.” “How did Terrence react?” She could have bounced a bowling ball off his arm he was so rigid. Thomas spoke in a calculated, deliberate manner, as if each word had a special, unspoken meaning. “Carol-Ann wrapped him around her little finger. She could do no wrong in his eyes. It drove a wedge between us. Terry started acting up at school, drinking, and fighting. We were barely speaking by the end of the fall term. Terry and Father had a fight, and he left home and joined the navy before he qualified for the Royal Marines.” Secrets, deceit, something sinister lurked in the background, and Thomas’s tension seeped into her veins, chilling her soul. She inhaled and took a lighter tack. “Didn’t you even try to contact him? You’re twins after all.” “Terry went into the Royal Marines. Because he has a knack for languages, they kept him in Iraq and Afghanistan for over seven years. Undercover operations, that sort of stuff. I read law at Oxford and stayed as far away from home as I could.” “And when you became sick, you wanted to reconnect with Terrence?” “Something like that. Carol-Ann’s suing Father for divorce. There’s no prenup, so the bitch is going after half of our assets. And she’ll get it too with the ammo she’s got.”

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“She has a hold over your father?” Su-Lin hadn’t even met the woman, but she already actively disliked the twins’ stepmother. “Unfortunately, yes.” He patted the back of her hand and shook his head. “We’re getting into some uncharted waters with this conversation, and I risk breaking a few confidences. If you want to know more, ask Terry. He should be the one to tell you the whole sordid tale, not me. How about a bite to eat, and then we’ll wind our way back to the Glory?” She glanced down at her churning stomach, surprised Thomas hadn’t noticed the wave of nausea causing her to swallow rapidly. Her eyes fixed on each uneven brick they traversed, SuLin took a four-count inhale. “Okay, I guess you really don’t want to talk about it. I’ll accept the change of subject, but only if you tell me more about yourself. What do you do?” “Corporate law. I bought into a partnership about four years ago. I live in London, near Hampstead Heath. It’s a dull life actually.” “I’m sure that’s not true. Do you see your father often?” “More in the last year or so. Father is a member of Parliament and spends most of his time holed up with bills and politics.” “I take it your stepmother doesn’t live with him?” Every mention of his stepmother flattened his mouth. “Carol-Ann spends his money and has worked her way into aristocratic circles. She runs with society, winters in Cannes, shops in the Far East. Loves to drop titles. We are the epitome of a dysfunctional family.” “How long have your father and Carol-Ann been married?” “Fourteen or fifteen years. Why?” “Why is she suing for a divorce after all this time?” “Rumor has it there’s a man involved. She’s not getting any younger. Maybe she’s feeling the press of time. Who knows? Who cares?” “You really hate her, don’t you?” “Every single bone in her body. Simply being in the same proximity makes me nauseous. And this conversation’s killing my appetite. Let’s talk about you, you and my little brother. You’re good for him, Su-Lin.” Not something she wanted to discuss. Uncertain if they even had a relationship, if Terrence wanted more than sex. Never agile with conversation, having had little experience at parrying uncomfortable topics, she grabbed the first item that came to mind. “He told me about your brain tumor and the operation. I’m glad Terrence is going to be with you. Maybe I’ll get to see you when you’re in New York. Aunt Emma and Uncle James want me to go to Hong Kong with them after our cruise is finished, but I think I want to be on my own for a bit.” “Forgive me, but haven’t you been on your own your whole life?” His tone gentled the harsh question. “I guess that’s true, but I’ve never been free.” Su-Lin hesitated, as even speaking about Annika seemed some sort of betrayal. “Caring for my mother took up most of my time. Between

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school and my two jobs, it seemed as if I was always fighting to catch up. We never had enough money. Every cent went into food and keeping the house running.” “Are you saying that you paid the bills, you supported your mother?” He stopped in midstride and stared at her, those gray eyes flashing…what? Disapproval? Incredulity? Both, she decided. “Mom stopped doing things after Dad died. Then she stopped speaking. We’d go for weeks without her saying a word. Someone had to keep up appearances.” “And no one, no neighbor, no teacher ever suspected what was happening?” Thomas looked about to shake her and she edged sideways. “I couldn’t let anyone suspect. If anyone found out, I knew they’d put Mom in a home and me into foster care. So, I didn’t break any rules. I did my schoolwork, got good grades, and went to gymnastics practice. I read. I learned Mandarin and Swedish.” “It sounds like a stark life.” Thomas’s lips turned down. “No one should have to live like that.” “It wasn’t that bad, and now I have my aunt and uncle.” She hugged her arms. “What about Terry?” “What about him?” Su-Lin’s nails imprinted half U’s on her skin. “I’ve seen the way you look at him, Su-Lin. You’re falling in love with Terry, aren’t you?” Each word felt like an icicle dagger digging into her chest, and she fired right back. “Isn’t the pot calling the kettle black? That guy you sent the map to, you’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Shock couldn’t begin to describe the expression on his face. Mouth open, jaws slack, eyebrows almost touching his hairline, Thomas sucked in his cheeks. One hand tunneling through his blond locks, he muttered, “How on earth could you have known?” “You wrote his address, and when you were speaking with the proprietor, your finger traced a figure eight over his name, again and again.” “You’re scary.” “No, I just notice the small things no one else does.” Ahead of them, a group of five teenagers dressed in Gypsy costumes lounged against an ancient soot-crusted wall. Each fiddled with different time-battered musical instruments. The youngest, a rail-thin prepubescent girl with matted blue-black hair shook a tambourine to a steady, insistent rhythm. Su-Lin halted, arrested by the rage and hunger flashing from eyes so dark, so guarded, light would never be able to penetrate. “Hungarian Gypsies,” Thomas murmured. “They’re so young and they look half-starved.” She dug into her purse and found some euros, but before she could drop them into the hat lying on the sidewalk in front of the musicians, Thomas stilled her hand. “There’s a better way. Wait for me, here. Buy them a meal each. Get something from that deli over there.” He angled his chin to a canopied stall. “I’ll arrange for shoes and new clothes from the shop we just passed. Most of these kids work for adults and never see any of the money they earn. This way, they have a meal in their stomachs and something to keep them warm at night.”

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“I didn’t know Gypsies still existed.” “There are Gypsies in almost every country, and their culture and ways haven’t changed much over the centuries. I’ll be back.” Unsure of what to buy, Su-Lin ordered hearty-looking sandwiches, pasta salads, some fresh fruit, and juices in cans. When she took the packages of food over to the teenagers, they glared at her with open hostility. The oldest boy, who looked to be about sixteen, growled something and shot a wad of spittle to the ground at her feet. Thomas arrived at that moment, and he rattled out a barrage in a language that sounded half French, half German. He pointed to a shadowed alley between two buildings, and the boy, shoulders squared, stomped in that direction. Thomas followed. The young girl who’d caught Su-Lin’s attention snatched hungry looks at the food, so she set the parcels down and retreated into the entrance of a clothing shop pretending to browse. Time ticked by and Su-Lin’s curiosity warred with the need to wait and let the girl eat without losing her dignity. She fingered a fake-fur collar and sneaked a glance to where the teenagers had been. Nothing, no hint they had even been there. Seconds later, Thomas rounded the corner of the alleyway. “What happened? Where’d they go?” “Someplace where they can eat and hide the clothes and shoes. The leader, Casmir, is from Hungary via Marseille. They travel with the weather and support themselves playing music, supplemented, I’m certain, by petty thieving and picking tourists’ pockets. The little girl you liked, Adria, managed to relieve me of my watch.” Thomas rubbed his bare wrist. “Pretty smooth operator for an undernourished, illiterate scamp. I didn’t even notice until after they disappeared.” Afternoon traffic picked up. Renaults and Passats crawled through the narrow streets, while scooters wove precarious paths around the cars, narrowly avoiding pedestrians and making Su-Lin flinch when they backfired. “There’s a sunny spot over there, in front of that crepe restaurant. Lunch?” “Okay.” One hand under her elbow, Thomas guided her to a round table shaded by a white umbrella emblazoned with the red words LA FÉE ABSINTHE over and over, ad infinitum. Su-Lin sat on a warm metal chair and tipped her sunglasses to the top of her head. “Are there many Gypsies in France?” “There aren’t any official statistics, but you’ll find warnings about them in every major French port, and some Spanish ones. Marseille’s a base for the Roma.” Thomas signaled to a waiter, an aristocratic summons of a flicked wrist. “Roma, that’s what they’re called?” When he nodded, she asked, “What language did you speak to them?” The waiter interrupted their conversation, and after a hasty glance at the menu, they ordered drinks and entrées. “Most Gypsies speak Romany, although it’s a misnomer to term it a language. It’s a dialect with more variations than similarities.” “How do you know the language? It can’t be part of a normal school curriculum.”

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“Every summer our estate has been home to a band of Gypsies. About ten generations ago, the Earl of Arran gave them rights to use the land around one of our lakes. In return, the Gypsies produce copper art for the lady of the manor. As boys, Terry and I played with the Gypsy children, and we learned some of the dialect.” “Shouldn’t those kids be in school?” “Legally, yes. But most European governments leave Gypsies out of the loop. Don’t get involved, Su-Lin, it’s a hopeless cause. An eternal circle of poverty, illiteracy, and an early demise.” “It doesn’t seem fair. They’re children. They shouldn’t have to live on the streets.” The waiter arrived with her tuna niçoise salad and his pissaladière, a white pizza topped with sautéed onions and anchovies. Thomas swore by the confection, but Su-Lin opted for the tamer salad, sliced fresh tuna served with baby potatoes, quartered hard-boiled eggs, black olives, and a handful of capers. “What is La Fée Absinthe?” She used her knife to point to the words on the umbrella. “It’s an ancient licorice-flavored drink distilled from several herbs, including wormwood. It has a high alcohol content and contains a powerful psychoactive agent called thujone.” “Psychoactive? Does that mean it’s addictive?” “I’m not certain. I do know it was banned for a while during the early nineteen hundreds and is only now being allowed to be sold commercially. Most people think of it as an aphrodisiac. It’s rumored to be hallucinogenic.” “Thomas, would those Gypsy kids have any reason to follow us?” Su-Lin asked. “Don’t look now, but the older boy and the little girl are in the shadows of a shop on the opposite side, two doors down.” “What else can they get from us? I gave them most of my cash, and they got my watch.” He searched her neck, ears, and fingers. “You’re not wearing anything of real value.” Using his feet, he shifted the heavy chair to the left and cast an almost-imperceptible, darting glance in the direction she described. “I don’t see them. Are you sure you saw those two? They’re very distinctive.” “I could’ve sworn I saw them,” she muttered and wiped her mouth with the linen napkin. “I’ll keep an eye out on our way back to the Glory. Ready?” “Yes.” Every instinct screamed a warning. She had seen those kids, and she knew they were following her. And somewhere deep inside, she would bet any amount of money she’d see them again. Soon. They ran into Uncle James and Aunt Emma on the Promenade du Anglais. “What did you two get up to?” Su-Lin asked. “You’ll never guess who we ran into,” her aunt replied. “Probably not, since we don’t know the same people,” Su-Lin said, the hairs on her arms and neck prickling. Her glance darted right and left, but although certain someone watched, she couldn’t pick out any one individual. “Sir Geoffrey Stanford. He and Terrence O’Connor own the Glory. He’s joining us for the rest of the cruise. And his friend, Suresh Singh, that Internet billionaire, the young one. He’s in

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Nice with Geoff. And he’s invited us to a masked ball. An actual masked ball. It’s to launch this charity he’s starting, a literacy program for children based around sporting leagues. Isn’t that exciting?” The little girl with the haunting eyes, Adria, flashed across Su-Lin’s pupils, and she had to bite her lower lip to stop words from pouring out. The rest of her aunt’s babble didn’t penetrate. Thoughts raced around her mind, one idea careening into another. Could she start something like that, a gymnastic league for girls? In a haven where they could learn and live? How large a trust fund did Uncle James intend to give her? In a trance, she allowed her relatives and Thomas to direct her actions, and sometime later, they stepped onto the yacht. By then, Su-Lin had identified what she’d need: a gym, the necessary equipment, and a dorm of some kind. That meant food, laundry. What if she combined senior citizen volunteers with a full-time manager? She made it to her cabin on autopilot, eyes unseeing, lost in thought. Before the door clicked shut, Terry’s strong arms scooped her against his chest, and she caught a whiff of spicy cigar smoke. “I missed you,” she said and looped her arms around his neck, letting her fingers stroll through his hair and resting her cheek against his warm chest. “I spent the day with Thomas. I like him.” Scooping her against his chest, Terry captured her mouth and plundered, his tongue insistent, commanding, stroking hers, sliding the length, the width, raising a thousand pin spots at the base of her neck. He raised his head breaking the electrifying contact and kicked the connecting door open. All at once, his tension penetrated her nerves and Su-Lin met his eyes, arrested by the turmoil storming there. “What happened?” “Later. I need you now.” He slid her down his body, and only then did Su-Lin recognize their surroundings, his cabin. She took in the half-empty bottle of scotch standing on the dresser. Lifting on her toes, she ran her fingers along his shoulder blades. No give to his skin, even when her thumb kneaded the cord of one neck. Testing the curve of his shoulder, she met rigid steel. Something or someone had upset him. “You need a massage,” she said. “Your muscles are knotted into tight bunches. My dad taught me how to do a special massage. Will you let me relax you?” Fingering her ear, his stare bleak, lips clamped together, he shook his head. “Not exactly what I had in mind, darlin’.” “Please?” She didn’t give him any quarter, slipping his shirt buttons free and spreading the soft cotton to reveal his wonderful pectorals. When she tugged on his belt buckle, he took over, snapping the supple leather out of linen loops and shrugging off navy khakis. “Do you ever wear underwear?” “Not often in civilian life. Are you sure this is what you want?” “To give you a massage?” She couldn’t prevent her lips from twitching or one eyebrow from lifting. “You bet. We need a towel, some warm oil, and to block out the sun. Stay right there, don’t move an inch.”

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Su-Lin was panting by the time she finished. Within short shrift, the cabin, darkened by drawn shades, tinkled with medieval meditation music, and soft light from two patchouli-scented candles flickered a soothing ambience. Terry’s nude, magnificent body lay facedown on a thick towel on the carpet, his head propped on a bent elbow. Oxygen evaporated from the cabin and an actual pain stabbed her diaphragm at his masculine beauty, at the wonder of him, this Norse god, lain out for her to touch, to pleasure. He was her aphrodisiac. Chanting a silent mantra of thanks to whatever deity had blessed her with him, Su-Lin sat on her haunches and let her eyes drink in the splendor of his corded muscles, his broad, copper-hued back, the way his blond hair caressed a neck thicker than both her thighs put together. Su-Lin rubbed the warm, scented oil along his shoulder blades, not exerting any pressure, simply ensuring a thick, even coating. She hummed when her fingers curled around the cut in his biceps. “I love your arms,” she murmured and kissed the tight curve, smelling his arousal, even from there. “And your hands.” She massaged each finger, spending time on the thumb that had brought her so much pleasure. “You have magic in your fingers.” His shoulder blades flexed under her hands, all the ridged muscles rippling like a troubled sea. His taut skin warmed with each stroke, and she touched every inch twice, closing her eyes the second time to feel every plane, every angle. Dripping oil onto one cupped hand and increasing the heat by rubbing both together, she placed a hot palm on each buttock, and his glutes contracted, his pelvis lifted, and he moaned a low, sexy growl. “You’re like a statue of a god. My Norse god.” Su-Lin rained nips and kisses down the center of his luscious ass and had to force herself to remember her goal. Dribbling oil down the crease and along the tops of each large, powerful thigh, she edged into position between his knees. Overpowering desire started her exploration. She ran her fingers along his testicles, testing their weight in her hands, her breathing faltered and rose, erratic, uneven, making her lightheaded. She forced a few deep tai chi inhales with long exhales and finished oiling his long, perfect legs. With quick moves, she removed her clothing and continued the massage. He grunted when she stood on his back, and his head lifted. “I won’t hurt you,” she said, and he laid his face down on his elbow again. “You’re as light as a pixie,” he mumbled. “You couldn’t hurt me if you tried, darlin’.” Feet aligned along the base of his spine, she went into the old Chinese ritual, a standing massage of the back, shoulders, and bottom. Terry groaned, something inaudible, and after the first couple of steps, she felt the difference in his muscles. Keeping her weight light, using alternating heels and tiptoes, she worked her way along his back, one inch at a time. His shoulders relaxed before she neared them. Working with quiet, lithe steps, Su-Lin covered ass to shoulders three times, and he never spoke, not a word, just emitted a series of soft groans. When Terrence released a small snore, SuLin took the massage to the floor, kneeling beside his arms, and using her thumbs, she hit each acupressure point for the major muscles.

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An eternity later, she rolled him onto his back. One eye flickered open, and he mumbled, “Heaven.” “Shh,” she whispered and continued. Starting at his feet, doing a minireflexology massage, working the knots out of brawny calf muscles, caressing his strapping thighs. Heat seemed to rise from his skin and Terry’s legs rippled and shifted under her palms. In deliberate evasion, she refused to let her eyes wander to his arousal or concentrate on the excitement evidenced by her wet pussy. Her final destination. Su-Lin sat back on her haunches and her lungs refused to function, stuttering to a halt, at the wonder of the perfect man, at being able to touch him, at his desire for her. “You are so beautiful, Terrence. So wonderful.” She traced a finger along either side of his penis, her touch light. “I never thought a penis could be beautiful, but I think we should have yours bronzed.” Cradling his erection between curling fingers, she ran his foreskin down and sighed when she exposed the engorged satin crown. Closing her eyes, she learned the head of his cock by tongue. Light licks at first, then more of a lollipop stroke, then little sips around the rim, and a teasing insert into the sweet slit. “Jaysus, take me, darlin’.” With a surprising gentleness, he cupped the back of her neck and guided her mouth down to him. She suckled the whole head in. One hand keeping his foreskin tight, she cupped one testicle and slid her mouth down another inch. Another minute quarter inch, and then Su-Lin found a rhythm, a slow up and down, his cock slicking with each stroke, each pull and drag of her lips. Musk overwhelmed her nostrils, hers, his, and a salty precum tingled her tongue, tickling the roof of her mouth and flicking lightning to her pearl of heaven. He fisted a hand in her hair and his hips rose to meet her, thrusting faster, deeper, quickening until he shouted, and she lapped and suckled and cleaned him dry.

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Chapter Eight  Terry knew he should move, and though he ordered every muscle into play, not a single one responded. Hooding his eyes, he trailed Su-Lin’s graceful meditative pose, legs crossed, back straight, long, sable hair curling over golden skin, framing a beauty so precious, a face so filled with the best of humanity, it made his black soul seem darker. “Come here, darlin’.” Crooking a finger, his lips curved when she flashed him that wide, saucy grin he so liked. “Your turn.” “No,” she said, but moved to lie on top of him, crossed her forearms over his chest, and propped her chin with both hands. “I don’t need a turn. Not right now, anyway. It’s later. Tell me what’s wrong.” Me. I’m what’s wrong. A shadow crossed her features and he read every thought in the uncertain tilt of her head as she studied him. “You’d tell me if I did something wrong? You know, before?” Shaking his head, the lassitude coating his reactions receded, he dragged her closer and cupped one breast, rubbed a thumb over an erect nipple. “You did everything so right, darlin’, that I can hardly move. What did you do today?” “We went to a bookstore, and Thomas bought an antique map for a friend of his. We had lunch in the Cours Saleya plaza. What did you do?” “I bought you a present.” “You did?” She sat up, and he did too, enjoying the delighted little shiver-jiggle she did, palms together, jade eyes fizzing champagne bubbles. Terry rose, interlocking their fingers, and led her to the bed. “I want to see you in my bed, darlin’, between the sheets.” He turned down the comforter and waved his hand at the burgundy satin sheets he’d purchased on impulse, picturing Su-Lin naked against the rich vampire color. “I feel wicked,” she quipped, and her hands slid along the satin, fingers curving into the material. “Samantha on Sex and the City had satin sheets. They feel wonderful.”

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Sitting on the bed, he arranged her so she lay in the middle, long hair spread like a fan. “You take my breath away, Su-Lin. You are so beautiful, so brimming with goodness. You shouldn’t be with a man like me, darlin’.” Scooting over to him, she laid a palm over his heart. “You are a good man, Terrence. I know it here.” Taking his hand, she put it on her chest. His fingers throbbed with the strong beat of her life force, and the moment strummed out; then a snapshot of him screwing Carol-Ann curdled the sweetness of her gesture. Terry stood, the abrupt move unsteadying Su-Lin, and she fell onto her elbows. He stalked over to the dresser, and her jeweled gaze followed him in the mirror moving from the polished furniture to three giftwrapped boxes lined up in a row on the dresser. Balancing the boxes on one open palm, he swung around and halted when her lower lip trembled visibly. Turmoil fumbled his fingers, and he almost dropped one of the dainty presents, but scrambled as one fell and scooped it out of the air. The childlike joy that had lit her features minutes earlier had fallen away, replaced by the wary stare of a mouse watching a wild tomcat. He stifled a self-deprecating curse and knew he was bad for her, a corruptor of her innocence. “You don’t have to give me them, if you don’t want to.” She folded her hands over her thighs, her thumb brushing the inky curls of pubic hair, and the gesture thrilled his cock into seeping a few drops. “I ruined the whole thing, didn’t I?” He set the boxes next to her. “I haven’t bought a present in years. I’m obviously out of practice.” Massaging the sudden knot at his neck, Terry finally lifted his head, and when he caught a glimpse of Su-Lin’s face, he crumpled inside. “Don’t cry, darlin’,” he crooned, lifting her onto his lap. “Shh, don’t cry.” Thumbing away her tears, he rocked her and tucked her closer. One small hand pushed at his chest, and she swiped across her cheeks. “These are happy tears, Terrence.” She sipped his mouth, champagne tastes, her hot tongue bubbling a path straight to his prick. Twisting the satin into bunches, he broke the kiss, knowing in one more second he’d flip her onto her back, spread those athletic thighs, and pound into that hot pussy. “Open your presents.” His voice surprised him, so feral with need it was a wonder she didn’t up and race out of the room. “Terrence?” “Open this one first,” he said and picked up the smallest one, a candy cane-striped box with a shell pink chiffon bow. She didn’t have the usual masks people donned to deal with the cruelty society dosed out as infants grew into adulthood. Childlike wonder lifted the corners of her mouth, and the charm of raised eyebrows, almost-imperceptible peeps at him, washed away the stain of encountering Carol-Ann that morning. Undoing the bow, careful not to damage it, she peeled away the dainty ribbons, and he watched as her chest expanded and held, uptipped breasts pearling into taut points. “Earrings,” she breathed and chewed on her lower lip, staring at the two princess-cut emeralds, the exact shade of her eyes.

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“Another happy tear?” he croaked, as a lone drop did a graceful slide down her soft, smooth skin. Terry bent forward and drank it, inhaling a faint remnant of a citrus perfume. She nodded and looped her arms around his neck. “I know I must have gotten presents from my parents, but I don’t remember them. This is my first real present. Thank you. I’ll treasure them forever.” “Put them on, and then we’ll open the others.” He lifted her hips so his cock nestled in her crease and knew he rained semen there. Her little wriggles strained his disappearing discipline, and for the zillionth time, Terry searched for a way to take her, claim her, brand her his, but leave her innocence intact. “What do you think?” She tucked her black hair behind her ears, and the emeralds glistened and sparkled in the faint candlelight. “You look like an exotic princess, darlin’.” Brushing their lips together, his fingers scrambled for the other two boxes. “Now this one.” When she set about opening it in the same manner, with slow, precise movements, he snatched the package from her and ripped off the wrapping. “I wanted to keep the bows,” she muttered and quelled him with a schoolmarm glare. “Go on,” he said and angled his chin at the box. “Are they little jams?” she asked, brows slashed. “They’re flavored lubricants. You put them here,” he said, his voice husking as he separated her folds and rimmed her entrance. She drenched his fingers, tight channel tensing and flexing around them. “We need to make you very, very wet so it won’t hurt.” “Oh.” Roses bloomed in her cheeks. “Now I feel really, really wicked.” Su-Lin’s lips pursed into the most adorable pout, and Terry burst into laughter. “It’s not funny,” she said and hit him on the shoulder. “Feel that,” he ordered, twitching his cock into her cupped hand. “I know how not funny this whole situation is, darlin’. All I can think about, dream about, is being inside you.” She didn’t look convinced. “Open the last one.” Preempting her struggle with the bow, he ripped it off and gave her the box. “I thought about buying one of these after that morning in the steam room.” “Sweet little you? I don’t believe it.” He twined a silken lock around his forefinger. “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.” Seeing her fingers caressing the flesh-colored vibrator fevered his prick into a furious jerking and weeping. Terry groaned aloud when her uncle’s deep rumble carried through the open doorway connecting their cabins. Su-Lin flinched and guilt stained every delicious inch of her flesh. She scurried off his lap and sprinted into the other room. He eyed his randy cock, and his mouth twisted into a rueful grin. “Later, boyo, later.” His Asian aphrodisiac proved intoxicating indeed. In the space of mere minutes, Su-Lin had somehow cleansed the Carol-Ann filth scouring his soul. Did Thomas know their stepmother was in Nice? Did Father?

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Cowardice had dictated his reaction to the nightmare of Carol-Ann walking toward him wearing a sultry smile. He’d whipped around and scuttled away like a stalked mouse. A shiver of shame raised goose bumps on his neck, and he kneaded the bunched muscles with a thumb. Issues he’d avoided for a decade tunneled toward implosion, and he could no longer delay the inevitable confrontation. Admitting to his relationship with Carol-Ann would only widen the rift between him and his father. But could he continue to live with himself if he didn’t? What would Su-Lin think of him when the truth came out? The bottle of Jameson whiskey glinted almost-irresistible temptation, but the expression on Su-Lin’s face when she saw the earrings earlier held sway, and he kept that picture in his head while showering and dressing. For too long he’d let alcohol dull his pain; not anymore, not with Su-Lin in the picture. An hour later, he found Thomas and Su-Lin laughing, her tinkling giggle music to his ears. “What’s up with you two?” “Thomas was telling me about the time you two streaked the championship soccer game.” “I hope you stopped with that,” he said, warning a flick at his brother. “You know better. I promised her a picture,” Thomas said, and Terry had to smile when he recognized the devilish intent promised in his brother’s sparkling eyes. It felt like old times. Su-Lin sidled closer to him, her actions unconscious, and a stray ray of sunshine highlighted the dazzling shine of his emerald earrings. Unable to stop, he draped his arm over her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. Sniffing, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the familiar lemon-scented shampoo she used. “Did anyone inform you about this evening’s plans?” A warming sun cast a honeyed glow about the entertainment room, and it shaded her loose hair the inkiest soot possible. The morning spent under a cloudless Mediterranean sky had kissed roses on her cheeks and dusted gold on her bare shoulders. With a start, he recalled his brother’s question. “Plans, Thom?” “Emma and James ran into Geoff and Suresh. We’re all invited out for dinner. Father’s already declined. He’s heading up to Grasse and will return with us after the masked ball.” “Masked ball?” Terry asked, and his Su-Lin glow faded. “You agreed to all this, darlin’?” “My uncle and aunt have already accepted,” she replied. “I’ve never been to a ball, far less a masked one.” The CNN announcer’s voice grated a background headache at his temples, and Terry fought to control the pettish irritation the thought of sharing Su-Lin’s company spurted. “What time is dinner? And when and where is this masked ball?” He knuckled the side of his head. “Wait a minute, how do your relatives know either Suresh or Geoff?” She lifted a shoulder and replied, “I didn’t know they did. Maybe through business matters?” “I’ll find out from Geoff. I guess we have no choice about dinner tonight.” Terry pursed his lips. “This is not what I had in mind, darlin’.” “We’re meeting everyone on deck in ten minutes.” Thomas’s glance strayed to the white outline of a strap where his watch used to sit, and he winced. “I have to buy a new watch. The masked ball is tomorrow night at a hotel in Grasse. It’s to raise funds for Suresh’s new charity.”

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“What happened to your watch?” “We ran into a group of Gypsy children in Nice. Su-Lin wanted to help them, so we gave them food and a change of clothes. In the process, one of them nipped my watch.” “You? Suckered by a Gypsy child? Fricking hell, you’ve lost your touch, boyo. A time back you could outdo us all.” “You can pick pockets?” Su-Lin asked. “I will not teach you how to pick pockets, Su-Lin. Don’t even think about it.” Thomas used his Scout leader, lecturing tone. Terry grinned as his little aphrodisiac blushed. “May as well start heading up. Unless either of you wants a drink? Thom? Su-Lin?” She shook her head. “A headache’s been simmering all day. I took pain pills, so no alcohol for me tonight.” “Before we go up, Thomas, let me do some acupressure for your headache, it’ll help, I promise. Sit on that chair.” Jealousy bit the throbbing in Terry’s head into full bloom. His eyes traced Su-Lin’s fingers as she tousled his twin’s hair. Thom leaned back, and her stomach cradled the back of his head. Terry’s short fingernails stabbed his rough palms. “Better?” she asked and twisted around to see Thomas’s face. “Marvelous. Too bad that won’t work on the tumor.” “I could do it every day, if you’d like. It may stave off the headaches.” CNN faded into a commercial, and the volume increased threefold. Terry snatched up the remote and hit the Power icon. Blessed silence reigned until Su-Lin spoke, her voice wavering over the first few words. “Terry, I don’t want my uncle and aunt to know about you and me.” Color ripped across her cheeks, and the insult sent Terry’s stomach into a boil. “I guess that’s why you’re not wearing my earrings. You certainly won’t want my company tonight.” “Don’t be a jackass, Ter. These people are virtual strangers to Su-Lin, and she can’t anticipate how they’ll react to her sleeping with you. And that’s all that it is, isn’t it? According to you, you don’t have relationships, you screw.” “Shut your fricking mouth, Thomas, and scram. Su-Lin, look at me.” He tipped her chin up, desperation forcing a gentle murmur while his brain screamed obscenities, and his heart stammered into a barrel-roll nosedive. Tears swamped her eyelashes. “This time it’s different. You’re different.” “It’s okay,” she whispered, and her honey-scented breath warmed him from thumb to miserable, aching prick. “I know we only have these three weeks.” “Maybe I want more,” he rasped and slanted his mouth over hers, cupping her bottom and grinding into her. Aided and abetted by avaricious lips, he stamped his possession, dueling with her tongue, nipping flesh, groaning when she tiptoed and her fingers cupped his jaw, stroking, caressing.

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“Terry, get a grip. If we don’t get on deck soon, Su-Lin’s relatives will be down here hunting for her.” The words only penetrated because Thomas had his forearm in a snare’s vise grip, and the pain managed to register in Terry’s bemused brain. “Go ahead,” he ordered, never breaking their manacled gaze. “We’ll be there in a second.” “I’ll wait. You can’t be trusted alone with her.” “Su-Lin, are we okay?” “Yesss.” She drew the word out in a faint hiss. “Let me escort her up, Ter. I suggest you find a jacket. That boner’s hard to miss.” He took Thomas’s advice and went to his cabin in search of clothing. Terry joined the assembled group on deck as their taxi boat arrived ten minutes later. Dusk’s wavering shadows held sway over a navying Mediterranean, and the temperature dipped as a tacky gust swept across the deck riffling through Terry’s hair. Muddled aftershaves and a cloying, flowery perfume enveloped the gathered dinner group. A sweep of the deck showed Thom and Harrison standing to one side, and Su-Lin bracketed by her relatives. He identified the source of the too-sweet aroma, Emma Lockheed, when he pushed between her and Su-Lin. Something had changed. Terry cut to James, and surprise lifted his eyebrows at the man’s scowling face, the tight set of his mouth. He no longer appeared the doting, jovial uncle. Instead, James radiated a piercing fury, and he had a dangerous edge to his squared shoulders. His pale blue eyes settled on Terry, and the menace in that gaze bristled old commando habits to the forefront. Terry shuffled his feet, agitation rising with each clandestine dart Lockheed shot him. “Something wrong, James?” He went on the attack. “My niece is a very innocent young woman, O’Connor, and unless you plan to marry her, I’d suggest you keep a wide distance.” “Where the hell did that come from?” “She may have come upstairs with your brother, but since he’s gay, I don’t expect he was the one who kissed her senseless.” Su-Lin’s pouty, swollen lips caught Terry’s attention, and he clamped his mouth together to stifle his automatic response. But mindful of her request to keep their relationship secret, he opted for a different tack, and repressed aggression graveled his voice. “And why would you think Thomas is gay?” That discombobulated the man. James Lockheed’s jowls reddened, and a line of perspiration paralleled his receding hairline. Alerted by the mention of his name, Thomas edged closer to the two men, swapping an anxious glance with his brother. During the fracas, Emma and Su-Lin had boarded, and Harrison had one foot on deck, the other in midair. “Yes, James, why would you think that?” Thomas’s soft question always preceded a battering-ram offensive, Terry remembered.

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“We’ll settle this later, James, Thomas.” Terry bent to the man’s florid face and clamped one hand around his fleshy arm. “If you so much as repeat what you just said, even if only to yourself, I guarantee you’ll be in hospital for a few months. Get on board.” Arms akimbo, the twins stared at James’s hunched back when he turned to face the water taxi. “Going to be a pleasant cruise, boyo,” Terry growled. “Now, why did he jump to that conclusion? Are you sure Father doesn’t know?” The last rays of the sun faded, and reflected lights from the Glory bobbed and swayed with the lapping waves. Su-Lin had piled her hair on top of her head in some sort of sexy, messy tumble. A current of air flashed across the bay, and the wind pulled a few strands loose. Thomas shrugged. “Let’s face it, Terry, he’d be blind, deaf, and dumb not to know. I gave up caring whether he knew I was gay years ago. I’m discreet. I don’t flaunt it. A few of my colleagues suspect. But I take out the occasional woman and hit the social scene just enough so people aren’t certain.” “Do you think James will mention anything to Father?” Both shoulders lifted, and Thomas replied, “At this point, I don’t really care. Let’s get on board. I have a feeling this is going to be a long, tedious evening.” “Agreed.” When their taxi docked at one of Nice’s piers, Harrison helped Su-Lin step foot on the wooden jetty. James and Emma surrounded Su-Lin, her aunt crooking elbows with her niece. Terry, Harrison, and Thomas strolled behind the three relatives. Terry listened to Emma prattling about Hong Kong, about how much Su-Lin would love it there. The woman didn’t stop for a breath once, and he marveled at her lung capacity. Suresh had made reservations at a restaurant near the tram stop. An intimate, twenty-seat haven off one of Nice’s busy streets with open, burnished oak stable doors, Terry had first introduced the Internet wunderkind to the establishment a few weeks earlier. Suresh termed it “The Bottle Restaurant” because of its wall-to-wall display of miniature liquor bottles dating back over a hundred and fifty years. Terry and Thomas had to duck to enter the bistro. Geoff Stanford, all aristocratic and haughty, sat at a circular table with a burgundy leatherbound wine list in front of him. He and the proprietress discussed his selection, Geoff in flawless, Parisian-accented French, the matron in a more provincial tone. Seated to Geoff’s right, Suresh Singh stood, threw his napkin on the table, and halted all movement when he caught sight of Thomas. Terry’s mouth curved, and he and Thom swapped grins at Suresh’s almost-comical surprise, mouth open, one hand doing a questioning wave, while his eyes did a rapid-fire examination of each twin. “I didn’t know you had a brother, far less an identical twin,” he said, walking forward and clapping Terry on the shoulder. “Yeah, I’m full of surprises. Thomas, this is Suresh Singh, Internet billionaire, and a decided pain in the backside.” “Nice to meet you.” The men shook hands.

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“What’s the occasion?” Terry inclined his head to Geoff, now joined by James Lockheed. “I’m launching a charitable organization to eliminate illiteracy. It’s pioneered around under eleven inner-city soccer leagues.” “Interesting concept.” Su-Lin and Emma had stopped to look at jewelry in a window case. Terry knew the moment she entered the restaurant. Suresh’s head did an exorcist whip, and his jaw dropped open. “Crimey, tell me she’s not your wife, Thomas.” He uncurled one bent knee and strode forward, his gaze pasted on Su-Lin. Terry clamped his hand on Suresh’s shoulder, effectively halting his momentum. “She’s mine,” he growled. “You got married?” Charcoal eyebrows separated and lifted. “You?” “We’re not married, but she belongs to me.” “Uh-uh, don’t pull that Rolan crap on me. I told him and I’ll tell you, unless there’s a wedding band, no one’s off limits. Unhand me, man.” Suresh shook Terry’s hand off and ate up the distance to Su-Lin. “She’s in love with you, you know,” Thomas said, his voice a bare murmur. Sizzling sounds preceded the scent of searing meat. Thomas sniffed. “Lamb, if I’m not mistaken. Su-Lin’s good for you, Ter.” “She’s in lust. The woman has had no life, no childhood. She’s stayed on the sidelines all her life. With her looks, it’s amazing she went through adolescence without being groped or raped. Do you know she’d never even been kissed until a few days ago?” He couldn’t take his eyes off Su-Lin. She wore a soft green sundress with spaghetti straps and a curved neckline, which revealed cleavage that had his mouth watering the minute he caught sight of her. She needed a pendant to match the emerald earrings, he decided. And a ring. He choked back the thought, but it formed anyway, a big-ass emerald ring, and a thick wedding band, a symbol no man could mistake. Maybe one of those collar necklaces, one with his initials engraved all over it; a smile captured his mouth as he pictured it. “Ter, have you heard a word I’ve said?” Thomas shook his arm. “Sorry, boyo. What?” “Su-Lin’s cocked onto Suresh’s idea. She wants to buy a gym and teach gymnastics to children who normally wouldn’t have the opportunity to learn. Children in foster homes.” “When did this come up?” The notion had his sixth sense pinging away, but he couldn’t pinpoint what disturbed him about the idea. “When Emma mentioned the masked ball, she explained what Suresh wanted to do.” “She spoke about her idea in front of her relatives?” He rolled his shoulders, but the uneasy feeling persisted. “I’m not sure if she’s told them. When we were waiting for you in the entertainment area, she told me about her plans. She’s so excited. You should have seen her. I swear if she hadn’t been wearing a dress, she would have done a cartwheel.”

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“Thom, I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you this for a while. I saw Carol-Ann today, near the train station.” “Bloody hell,” Thomas muttered as he stumbled backward. “She would only be here if she’s up to something.” “Nothing makes sense.” Terry shook his head. “Why is she here? Why is Father here? He’s ignoring you as much as he’s ignoring me, and you’ve been the good twin, the heir, and all that.” “He wants me to sire another Gore. Get married, settle down.” “Are you going to? For the sake of the title?” “The last thing I want is to follow in his footsteps. I have no desire to have a child. The title will go to your first son, if you don’t inherit it sooner.” “You are not going to die on the operating table, Thomas, not if I have anything to say about it.” “We have to face reality. And talk about the consequences.” “Do you think I don’t fricking know that? But not here, not now, and there’s no sodding way you’re getting off the hook so easily. You’re the earl, not me.” “We’ll table the issue. Everyone’s sitting down, and a second ago, you lost your chance to sit next to Su-Lin.” Terry mugged a scowl Suresh’s way, and the young billionaire gave him a victory salute as he scooted Su-Lin’s chair closer to the round table. Thomas took the empty seat next to Emma Lockheed, while Terry schlepped into the chair next to Harry. “Suresh has his eyes on our woman.” “No ‘our’ about it. You stole one kiss, and that’s all you’re ever going to get.” Geoff, on his left, asked, “Ever? Sounding pretty long-term there, chappie. This one’s going to last longer than a week?” “It’s a three-week charter,” Terry hedged. “You know the relatives?” “I’d never heard of James Lockheed until a few weeks ago, myself. He Skyped me about chartering the Glory. Said a friend had recommended the yacht.” “He never mentioned anything about speaking with you. I engineered a meeting with him in Antibes after I met Su-Lin and found out they controlled her schedule.” Terry thumbed his jaw and stared at James Lockheed. “I thought I manipulated the man into the charter.” “Did you now? I arranged the Glory charter for Thomas the minute he made the request. I let Lockheed know the Glory wasn’t available that same day. Something doesn’t add up.” Geoff drummed his fingers on the table. “Could this be some sort of setup?” “To what purpose?” “Su-Lin. The usual. Marriage?” Terry’s stomach caved as if he’d been sucker punched. His mouth soured. “Doesn’t make sense.” He forced out the words. “They’re rich. Don’t need the money.” “One easy way to clear this up, Terry. Let’s ask Lockheed why he didn’t mention his phone call to me. Wait a minute, when I canceled the charter, I spoke with the wife, not Lockheed. It could be a simple case of miscommunication. How do you want to proceed?”

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“Not worth pursuing the matter at this point, Geoff, not with Lockheed being hostile about my relationship with Su-Lin. Sleeping dogs and all that.” The matronly proprietress strolled to their table, a bottle of wine clutched to her chest, two crystal goblets dangling upside down from her fingers. She deposited the glasses on the linencovered table, nudging them into correct positions, and brandished the label on the bottle in front of Geoff. Terry waited until the woman finished pouring wine for the whole table, filling their balloon glasses a third of the way. Thomas refused the alcohol, holding a palm over his glass. “Carol-Ann’s in Nice, Geoff. I saw her this morning.” Terry took a fortifying glug of the Bordeaux vintage. “She found you?” Geoff’s normal reticent expression changed, and his mouth curled into a sneer. “She’s the reason I flew in. Couldn’t find her in Singapore, and I had business here and wanted to warn you in person. That’s all you need added to this ticking situation, Carol-Ann.” Harrison’s head whipped around. “What’d you say? Carol-Ann? Big hair, boobs out to here, long cheerleader legs?” “Yes,” Geoff answered. “You know her?” Harry arched a brown eyebrow. “She’s been my stepmother for the last dozen years,” Terry said, and he knew the minute he saw Harrison’s face that Murphy’s Law had slammed them all. Things were about to get roller-coaster worse. Harry’s Texan sun-bronzed complexion greened right before Terry’s eyes and his beanhardened cowboy stomach seemed ready to regurgitate its contents. He shoved out from the table and took two lunging strides through the only door in the back of the restaurant. Metal clanged onto the stone floor in a blistering inferno. A woman shrieked. A man shouted in a furious combination of Franglish. Harrison stumbled out the doorway he’d careened into, looking like doused rawhide. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” “Harry screwed your stepmother?” “I should have known when Thomas said she had the hots for some cowboy. What a fricking mess.”

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Chapter Nine  Something had changed. Su-Lin stared at the closed connecting door to Terrence’s cabin. The knotting tendons in her neck burned and stabbed like daggers as she turned her head away. Aunt Emma and Uncle James had collared her the whole evening. Each time she’d asked Suresh a question, either one or the other deflected his attention. Even more frustrating, she suspected they knew about her and Terry. They never let the two of them alone. Geoff and Suresh had shown her the restaurant’s unique collection of miniature liquor bottles dating back to the seventeenth century. Halfway through the evening, when it had become apparent her relatives would do anything to keep Terry and her apart, she’d used the lit glass showcases as an excuse to get up and move about. Before Terry could join Su-Lin, Aunt Emma did a buddy-jump suit-up, never moving a half an inch from her side. Two hours later, everything had deteriorated. Terrence, Geoff, and Harrison murmured terse, sharp bites in fits and starts and ignored everyone else seated at the intimate table. Not once did Terrence glance in her direction. For three isolated hours, she ate and drank the finest vintage, the most selective fish and vegetables, and her tongue tasted sawdust and vinegar. Su-Lin ordered a goat cheese salad appetizer. Aunt Emma changed it to scallops wrapped in bacon, remarking to everyone that her niece preferred seafood. True, but Su-Lin never touched meat. So she pushed the food around with her fork and chewed on the two olives, which served as a garnish. For the main course, she chose a white-wine-poached whole sole. Uncle James said that Mediterranean sole had high mercury levels and ordered macadamia-crusted wild Atlantic salmon instead. Allergic to macadamias since she entered adolescence, Su-Lin ate the medley of vegetables that came with the fish. Uncle James couldn’t be expected to know macadamias made her vomit. The last time she’d had them, her coach had to take her to the hospital.

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Her relatives had been nothing but kind since discovering her existence, and she knew she should be grateful for their lavish spoiling and spending. Yet every correction, every condescending comment, niggled at her self-confidence and spiked her slow-boil temper a notch. They crowded her on the water taxi ride back to the Glory. Aunt Emma gabbed nonstop. Su-Lin tuned out, replaying the images of Terrence’s massive, sinewy thighs, but even those images didn’t alleviate her unease. Breeze created by the boat’s momentum blew Su-Lin’s hair back from her face. Varied aromas mingled on the wind, frying fish, unfiltered French cigarettes, and fumes from the scooters buzzing in the distance. Behind them, the buildings of Nice twinkled. Headlights putputted around the harbor front, edging forward in starts and jerks, like individual colored balls in a game of marbles. She tried to catch Terry’s gaze, but he continued his murmured conversation with Geoff and Harrison. She studied Terrence’s lips as he spoke, but every time he chomped off a phrase to either man, he averted his head. The other two men appeared ragged for wear. Time and time again, Harry dug both hands through his hair. Between the stiff, tacky sea breeze and his furious repeated gesture, he looked caveman wild, caveman angry. Geoff, the calmest of the three, stood in the middle, one hand on either man’s shoulder, and at one point, he shook both men, eyebrows slashed, lips shooting out words. When they reached the yacht, all three hulking men vanished before Su-Lin could even make it onto the deck. Aunt Emma and Uncle James insisted on accompanying her to the cabin and were adamant about having a drink on her balcony. Her uncle returned to the entertainment area and came back carrying three drinks: two glasses of red wine, and a short glass of scotch on ice. He smoked a fat, torpedo-shaped cigar while her aunt prattled on and checked Su-Lin’s wardrobe, chubby hands threading through the hanging clothes. Su-Lin used both thumbs to knead the throbbing pressure points at her temples. The red wine tasted a little vinegary. Time drew out, and only after she’d finished her wine did her relatives leave. Every limb grew ten-pound weights, even her eyelids, but the closed connecting door to Terry’s cabin proved the devil’s lure. Lethargic feet stumbled to the head. Sluggish hands worked at cleansing her face and brushing her teeth. Too battered to face Terrence nude, she donned a long T-shirt and shuffled to the door. Holding her breath, she tried the handle and came close to crying when it turned. He still wanted her. Remembering her aunt searching her belongings, Su-Lin retrieved her treasures from the bedside table drawer. His empty room yawned at her, and she slipped Terry’s presents onto a mahogany dresser. All at once exhausted, she rubbed her eyes and staggered to the bed. The satin sheets cooled her fevered, damp flesh, and she wondered about that for a smidgen before succumbing to a deep, dreamless sleep. Morning sunlight warmed her cheeks, and one eyelid worked its way open. Naked breasts met her gaze along with Terrence’s strong tanned arms cocooning her waist. His even puffs feathered her nape, and she sighed, contentment soothing a dull pounding behind her eyes. Holding still, wanting to prolong the poignancy of waking up with him, she studied his large hands, the thick fingers, the callused pads, which grazed sweet sensations.

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Her thoughts swung back to last night’s dinner. A series of scattered shots of the evening flashed through her mind, and her brain settled around the three men, Geoff, Harrison, and Terrence. Something had changed. She knew the minute slumber left Terry by the slight hitch of his lungs against her back. “Mornin’ darlin’,” he said, his voice sleep-gruffed. His morning erection lengthened and thickened along her bottom cheek, and she scooted closer, rubbing her rear in a slow grind. “Are you okay?” His deep baritone reverberated against her skin, skidding shivers to her curling toes. “You were in such a deep sleep last night. I didn’t have the heart to wake you up.” She turned to face him, and he slid down on the pillow until their faces were level. “I have a bit of a headache.” “You’re very pale,” he said and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “I noticed you didn’t finish your food last night. Was the fish off?” “I don’t like macadamia nuts, or rather, they don’t like me. I think one must have gotten into the vegetable medley. I feel kind of queasy too.” She rubbed her stomach. “Su-Lin, darlin’, why’d you order the dish if you didn’t want it?” “Uncle James said there was too much mercury in Mediterranean sole. He ordered the salmon instead.” “Darlin’, I’m not understanding what happened.” He tucked a strand of silken hair behind her ears. “I should have told Uncle James I’m allergic to macadamia nuts, I suppose. I don’t like to make a fuss.” A wave of nausea washed up her throat; she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “You’re not well,” Terrence said, leaning on his elbows and raking her features. “Look at me, darlin’, tell me what you’re feeling. Are you nauseous? You’re perspiring.” His thumb brushed her forehead. “I think we need to get you to a doctor.” “No, please. I’ll be okay. Maybe a glass of water?” “Don’t move a muscle. I’ll be right back.” The mattress lifted as Terry levered off the bed, and the slight move collided with her roiling stomach. Su-Lin raced to the bathroom, passing Terry on the way. She threw up convulsively, belly heaving, damp hair clinging to her cheeks. “Easy, easy, darlin’,” he crooned, his arms encircling her, warming her clammy flesh. “Let it all come up. Better to get it all out.” “I don’t want you to see me like this,” she mumbled and tried to twist out of his hold. “Shh. Here, take a sip of water,” he said, placing a cool glass against her lips. “Small sips. We need to keep you hydrated.” She vomited the water. “I’m taking you to the hospital,” Terrence stated and scooped her into his embrace. “You’re looking paler, darlin’, and you’re covered in sweat. I think you’ve got a bad case of food poisoning.”

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“I’m okay. It’s just my reaction to the nuts. I need an antihistamine. It’s getting harder to breathe.” “I know we have a supply in our emergency kit, but is there a particular brand you need?” “Brown bottle, in my bathroom cabinet,” she managed to blurt amid fighting off a fresh upsurge of queasiness. By the time Terry returned with the pills and a cup of water, the sick feeling had abated, replaced by clogged breathing. “Su-Lin, you’re gasping for breath. Your skin’s taking on a bluish tinge. That’s it. I’m taking you to the hospital.” “N0,” she managed to get out and held up one hand. “Pill…works…ten minutes.” “In ten minutes, we can be in Nice.” He snatched a blanked from an adjacent armchair and wrapped it around her. “Wait.” She panted, clutching the soft cotton. “Five…five…minutes.” “Not a second longer,” he said, then sat on the bed and curled her onto his lap. In between stroking her back, he checked his watch. Gradually, her breathing came under control and a numbed drowsiness tugged at her brain. “Your eyes are closing. Should I let you sleep?” She nodded. “Feel better when wake up.” The antihistamine worked its magic, and she succumbed to lethargic slumber and the safety of Terry’s strong arms cuddling her close to his chest. His rhythmic even breathing coaxed her heart into a similar cadence and she slept relieved of all worries. When Su-Lin opened her eyes some indefinite period later, Terry’s gray gaze greeted her. “Hi,” he said, tracing the line of her jaw. “Better?” “Mmm, a little groggy. And hungry.” He pressed his palm to her forehead. “No nausea?” “No. I’m feeling okay. Honest.” She studied his somber features. “You look awfully serious.” “You scared me, darlin’. After you took that antihistamine, your breathing slowed so much, I almost rushed you to the hospital. What else are you allergic to besides macadamia nuts?” Avoiding his close scrutiny, she muttered, “Bacon.” “Bacon?” His voice rose, incredulity masking a hint of mirth in his tone. “It’s the nitrates,” she explained. “I can’t help it.” “I’ll speak with the crew and make sure our new chef knows. There will be no nuts of any kind or bacon on board the Glory as of today.” “You don’t have to go to that extent. Other nuts are okay. And I can usually avoid bacon. It’s pretty obvious.” “Su-Lin, we need to talk.” “That sounds ominous.” She pressed her lips together and stared at the far cabin wall. “Uh-uh, darlin’, no clamming up on me.” His thumb and forefinger captured her chin, and he turned her face to his. “Have you told your uncle and aunt about your allergies?”

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“Sort of.” She lifted a shoulder. “I didn’t want to make a fuss. I know I’m not like other girls my age. I know my aunt thinks I’m a little strange, that I’m too wrapped up in my Chinese heritage. They’re my only relatives in the world. Is it wrong for me to want them to like me?” Fiddling with his medal, she touched a finger to the hollow in his throat. “You have no idea how precious you are, do you? It’s impossible not to like you, Su-Lin Jenny Taylor. My brother adores you, Harry’s half in love with you, and me -- I’m obsessed with you.” Her heart felt like it would leap out of her rib cage. She swallowed a couple of times and blinked until his mouth came into focus. “Is that good?” she whispered. “You haven’t made love to me.” “Not because I don’t want to.” He touched a forefinger to her nose. “I don’t deserve you. My past isn’t pretty, Su-Lin. If you knew half of the things I’ve done.” He shook his head. “You’d run for your life.” “There’s nothing you can say that would ever make me want to run away from you. Terrence, will you make love to me?” Her lungs stopped working, and she looked right into his dilated pupils. “Promise me you won’t regret it.” She drowned in his gaze. “Never. Cross my heart.” Su-Lin drew an X on her chest. He kissed one eyebrow and nipped a slow path to her ear. “You inspire me every minute of the day and night. Ever since I first caught a glimpse of you, I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you.” Sucking on her lobe, he alternated between nibbles, licks, and hot breaths, and Su-Lin added another unlikely erogenous zone to her growing list. Closing her eyes, she savored the feel of his lips caressing hers, the sweet, almost-painful sense of being cherished making her heart threaten to break through her rib cage. “You make me feel special,” she blurted. “That’s because you are special, my darlin’. A gift I shouldn’t open.” He feathered kisses across her forehead, the bridge of her nose, the pulse beating at one temple. “You make me want to be a better man.” “You are the best man I’ve ever met.” She bit his earlobe. “So noble, so strong, such a wonderful friend.” Lowering his head, he tongued one nipple and electric sparks shot to her center. His heated breath on her damp areola shivered embers up her vertebrae. Two sharp teeth grazed her breast, pooling moisture between her legs. With unconscious provocation, Su-Lin sidled her left leg up above Terry’s waist and pointed her toes when his mouth moved in a moist trailing taste of her nape. Useless bones, rubberized joints. Extremities fired darts in places hitherto asexual, the backs of her knees, her throbbing belly button, the curve of her shoulder blades. “Slow down, darlin’,” he muttered. “I want you so much, but I don’t want to hurt you.” He rose onto his forearms and captured her mouth, sucking on her lower lip. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her, his forehead creased. “Even if we use the oil, I can’t guarantee it won’t hurt.” He stroked the back of his hand over her cheek. “It only hurts the first time,” she said, rubbing her thumb over his frown. “Make me yours, please. Let me belong.”

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He swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he raked her features. “I may not be able to let you go, Su-Lin Taylor.” The words I love you almost burst out of her mouth, and tears had her vision blurred. She’d never felt so treasured, not in her entire lifetime. “Don’t go,” Su-Lin said as he tumbled away from her, and she reached for him, her fingers scraping a sinewy thigh. “Time for the oil, darlin’. I’m not going anywhere. Today, I make you mine.” “Why do you look like that?” She rolled over and propped her chin in her hands. “Like what?” He stalked over to the dresser and picked up two of the vials of oil. “Sad and serious.” She wriggled her toes. Tumbling the jars between his hands, he met her eyes, ambled closer, and sat on the mattress. “I’m afraid you’re going to regret this decision.” Sitting on her haunches, she laid her palms on his hard pectorals, looked right into his eyes, and whispered, “What do I have to say to convince you I won’t?” Closing her eyes, she leaned forward and kissed him, sliding her tongue deep inside his mouth, tasting the faint hint of peppermint mingled with smoke. In her mind, she surrendered, letting the love she’d repressed from the moment she’d seen him take over. He broke the kiss and rested his forehead on hers. “My turn to massage you, darlin’. Close your eyes, relax, and enjoy. You’ve such strong thighs.” Warm moisture dripped onto her left leg. Terry’s large palms rubbed a gentle circle on her quadriceps. Through half-lidded eyes, she viewed the intense concentration with which he examined her torso, both hands stroking the curve of her pelvis, a forefinger caressing the ridge of one hip bone, another trailing the rim of her navel. “I feel boneless.” “And I’m all one big bone,” he said, flashing her a grin and flicking a hand in the general direction of his cock. “I can see that,” she said, and her cheeks warmed. Centering the two vials on her stomach, he lay on his side, one hand cupping his cheek. He tipped one of the oval bottles over. The scent of musk reached Su-Lin’s nose, and warm liquid trickled over her belly, tickling her skin. Hips shifting side to side, she quipped, “It tickles.” “It’s a warming oil, and I added cherry flavor.” His voice coarsened. “How does that feel, darlin’?” Two fingers sifted through her pubic hair, dampening the curls, and he razed both digits through her folds, separating the already-slick lips. “Hot,” she replied, lifting off the bed. “Good. Oh.” She gasped when both fingers slid inside her. “Jaysus, you’re so tight. And so responsive. Su-Lin, look at me, darlin’. That’s it,” he crooned, slipping another finger in her sheath. “Did I mention cherry’s my favorite flavor?” he asked, dipping his mouth to her reddened hood and flicking his tongue across the quivering skin. “You smell so good, and you taste like heaven, my heaven.” His hands and lips worked magic; Su-Lin arched to his touch, to his laving mouth, to the rhythm he urged, his fingers gliding in, withdrawing, over and over. “Terrence,” she moaned. “Terrence, please.”

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Her eyelids flew upward when he cupped her bottom and lifted her, positioning the large head of his penis at her entrance. Her mouth curved, and she breathed, “Oh yes, yes.” Storm-cloud gray irises almost disappearing under pupils dilated and darkened with passion met hers. Jaw clenched, he kept his eyes fixated on hers and pushed inside, stretching her muscles. Beads of sweat peppered his forehead. His knees nudged her legs wider. He leaned on his forearms, slanted his lips over hers, and thrust his tongue into her mouth, impaling her with his cock in one fierce plunge. The fierce sting made her react automatically, and she stiffened and pushed at his chest. At once realizing what she was doing, she murmured, “It’s okay. I didn’t mean…stay…don’t go.” “I’m sorry, darlin’, so sorry.” He feathered kisses over her eyelids. “I won’t move again. It’ll get better, I promise.” “That stung,” she said, exhaling a shaky breath. “I know,” he whispered, sucking on her lip, running a soothing tongue over her swollen mouth. Tracing the line of her neck, he nipped the curve of one shoulder, cupped a breast, and suckled, plumping the nipple taut with his teeth. Her heels dug into the soft sheets. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded, tangling her hand in his damp hair. All of a sudden the pressure inside her gave way, and as she wriggled forward, a delicious friction made her lungs stutter. When he started to withdraw, she wrapped a leg around his waist and ordered, “No.” “Yes. Trust me.” The words vibrated in her ears. “This is what you want.” He withdrew, her muscles contracting and clenching in refusal around his cock. She whimpered when he slid his organ into her heat one torturous millimeter at a time. “Jaysus.” His harsh croak barely penetrated the purring rumbling from her throat. “Are you okay?” Lips feathering her cheek, he held her gaze. “Hurting?” This close, his eyes a tad out of focus, she slanted him a dreamy gaze and shook her head. “Oh no. Not hurting at all.” Reaching down, he settled between her thighs, his cock rigid and large, a heated inferno between her drenched folds. The scent of sex filled the room, its heady aroma giddying, dizzying. Terry captured her mouth, growling when she didn’t open soon enough. He swirled in, angling this way, that way, his tongue plunging in while his prick plundered her slick pussy, one rigid groin impacting her mound. Cradling her face, his hot, moist palms held her for his devouring lips; his tongue stabbed an escalating rhythm. Hips angled, thick cock chafing all her pleasure points, she matched him thrust for thrust. One warming hand fell away. She moaned a protest, but he cupped her bottom and pulled her tight, tight, so his penis hit that sweet spot, igniting a feverish spiral, and she begged, “Please, yes. Oh please, Terrence, Terrence.” His mouth trailed down to one breast, and he swallowed in the whole tip while his free hand rolled her overlarge nipple, and the point flamed into molten lava. He grunted and nipped a swollen, erect peak, and ripples shuddered through her. Oxygen left the room, and her light-headedness exploded. Mindless actions guided by some primordial Amazonian felinity, Su-Lin bit his shoulder and suckled his salty, blazing skin,

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mimicking his thrusting cadence unknowingly, sliding her leg up and down his sweat-dampened bottom cheek. She shrieked when he threw back his head and roared, his prick shooting semen inside her. He didn’t stop moving, working a feverish plundering of her folds with nimble fingers, and she fell off the precipice again, spiraling out of control. Collapsing onto the mattress, she fought to gulp a lungful of air and listened to the drumming of his heart, the slowing of his labored gasps, stilling when his thumb circled the dimple above her rear, savoring the intimate caress, memorizing it. “Breathe, darlin’,” he said, nuzzling her neck. When he turned her way, his chin stubble grazed her collarbone, and she marveled that such an innocuous spot, such a slight touch, could shock voltages through every pore. Warm lips brushed the pulse at her throat; he licked the throbbing area and rumbled against her surging veins, “Here, you taste like the creamiest ice cream. I lick you and I’m high; I think of you and I’m drunk.” “Is that why you call me your Asian aphrodisiac?” she whispered, fingers curling into her palms, half-afraid of the answer. Raising his head, he locked their gazes. “I’ve seen you flinch when your aunt stumbles over your name, when she calls you Jennifer in that English spinster tone. You are Su-Lin. Calling you by your rightful name is an acknowledgment of two things. Your unique, exotic beauty, which is a perfect combination of Chinese and Caucasian. The most amazing mixture, which produced a stunning woman who’s proud of her combined heritage.” Thank the gods they weren’t standing, because her bones wouldn’t support her weight, not after those incredible words. She bit down on her lower lip and blinked away the moisture brimming in her eyes, refusing to tear up. “Don’t you want to know the reason, darlin’?” She nodded because her voice couldn’t work. “What turns me on about you, what makes you my aphrodisiac, is the combination of two cultures in here,” he said and covered her breast with his palm. Shifting forward, he touched her head. “And here. You are free of the ugliness of the world. You haven’t interacted with men like me. You haven’t been corrupted.” Su-Lin knew her soul, all the love she had for this man, overflowed in her eyes, but she couldn’t break away from his gaze, couldn’t hide the emotions battling in her heart, terror and a pure ecclesiastical joy. At least she’d have exquisite memories to devour when her heart ached, after he’d left, after she’d left. But would her mind break as Annika’s had? Did she have too much of her mother in her? Would she lose the will to live? She squeezed her eyelids together and forced away the fear, and channeled the here and now. This man, this time, all hers for the moment. Placing a finger on his lips, she murmured, “And I said you had no pretty words. I’ll treasure this moment all my life. Thank you.” “You make me want to be a good man, Su-Lin,” he said and turned his head to the side. “But I’m not, darlin’. I never have been.” Something had changed.

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And it had started yesterday. “What happened last night, Terrence? With Geoff and Harrison? You had an argument, didn’t you?” A mask descended, his relaxed features drawing into an implacable, impenetrable neutral expression. “Nothing for you to worry about.” Jaw working, he shot her a glance, and his lips curled at one corner. “Regretting this already?” “What?” He rolled off her and leaned on an elbow, one eyebrow lifted. “I don’t regret anything. I keep my promises.” She chewed the inside of one cheek. “That fricking ball’s tonight. We have to leave within the hour, if not we won’t have time to rent the bloody costumes. I’ll shower in this cabin. Use yours.” Not once did he direct a glance at her as he strode to the bathroom.

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Chapter Ten  Time changed measures, not seconds, not minutes, not hours anymore, but a forever eternity of watching him walk away, his buttocks tightening with each stride. The slam of the door to the head flinched her into a fetal ball, arms drawing sticky thighs taut against her breasts. Su-Lin heard water spurt from the shower, and the sound galvanized her rabbit-retreat moment. She uncoiled and leaped off the bed, jogged through the door, and closed it. What had just happened? How had a magical moment turned into something sordid and ugly? Had he meant any of what he’d said? Dazed, unseeing, she headed for the bathroom. Standing under the running water, shellshocked, she replayed the whole morning. Nothing made sense. Was it because he hadn’t wanted to go to the masked bal?. She toweled off, her movements stiff, mechanical, while her mind teetered on full-blown panic. Closing her eyes, she gripped the bathroom counter. Her childhood had been a series of similar rejections and she’d learned how to handle the taunts and curled lips. After drawing the drapes, Su-Lin lit a lavender-scented candle, donned loose yoga pants and a sweatshirt, and put on a soothing summer rain CD. She lay on her back on the carpeted floor in Shavasana pose, feet six inches apart, arms the same distance from her body. Closing her eyes, Su-Lin began her daily systematic tense-release relaxation routine designed to keep her flexible and prepare her mind for meditation. A series of methodological contractions and relaxations of specific muscles for a predetermined count, she could never make it through to the end and usually woke up in this position. Fisting her left hand to the point of pain, she inhaled for a count of eight and expelled her breath for the same count as her fingers uncurled. She repeated the action three times. Using the same hand, she extended her fingers and widened the spaces between them, holding the tension while drawing in a deep diaphragm inhale for a count of eight. She relaxed all fingers a second at a time.

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Su-Lin wound her way around her body; hands to toes, left side, repeat on the right side, buttocks to neck, and finished with the front, face to pelvis. This morning it took two times longer than normal for the tension to seep away. To force her mind off Terrence, Su-Lin repeated each memorized childhood Mandarin nursery rhyme learned from her dad, picturing each associated hanzi character. She dressed for battle donning an outfit she knew her aunt would hate. Would Terrence shun her now? Pretend nothing had happened? If he did, she decided to flirt with Harry and Suresh, maybe even Geoff. All at once, her limbs froze as a horrible thought materialized. Suppose the argument between the men had been about her? Maybe they disapproved of her being with Terry? What had Aunt Emma said? No peer of the realm would consider a woman of mixed blood. She hated not belonging, being half-and-half. A rapid survey of her closet revealed her secret purchase the day before, a sexy outfit she’d worn in her dreams every day in high school. Squaring her shoulders, Su-Lin donned the tight skirt, hesitated long moments on the cropped top, but gritted her teeth and finished the whole suit with its matching top. She refused to look in the mirror, opened the cabin door, glanced in the direction of Terry’s cabin, stuck her chin in the air, and marched to the main deck. Unlike the cloudless robin’s egg sky of yesterday, no blue showed this morning, only an amazing spectrum of gray, ranging from midnight-flecked navy to the soft pearl of a Barbary dove’s wings. Morning birds cawed to each other in the heavens above. Su-Lin tilted her face to the sound and caught a glimpse of beating wings before the creature vanished against the clouds. Moist still air held the hint of a fisherman’s dawn catch. Aunt Emma, dressed in a shapeless button-up-the-front peacock blue dress and sensible low-heeled Clarks pumps, let her gaze scour Su-Lin. The right corner of her lip curled as she took in her niece’s spindle-thin three-inch stilettos, jade skintight leather skirt, and a push-up bustier in the identical shade, covered by a soft, ivory capped-sleeve bolero. “I’ve never seen those earrings before,” she said, her British accent slipping. She cleared her throat and added, “I thought your mother only left you that Victorian locket.” “I gave Su-Lin the earrings.” Terrence’s deep baritone thundered up her spine, and when he cupped both her shoulders, heated coils rippled across her belly. She stood stock-still, her thoughts hurdling. Her aunt’s horrified squeal preceded a roar from Uncle James. “I warned you, O’Connor, stay away from my niece.” The engine crew, on a smoke break at the bow of the boat, eyed the unfolding scene with blatant curiosity. The assembled Grasse-bound party of Harrison, Geoff, and Thomas, who lounged on the boat rail to the right of the Lockheeds, appeared fascinated. “I like the outfit, darlin’,” Terry murmured, his lips tickling her ear. “But after this, it’s a strict FMEO classification.” FMEO? Fighting the impulse to shout at him, she balled her hands. “I will not tolerate this, O’Connor.”

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Uncle James’s complexion, an odd combination of blotchy and sallow at the best of times, purpled, and a vein on his forehead bulged, turning bluish green. He mopped his dripping brow with a monogrammed white handkerchief. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but Su-Lin is over twenty-one. She’s an adult, and you can’t tell her what to do.” Terrence’s calm, even tones belied the threat palpable in his wide-legged stance, and the menace loitering in the flat line of his mouth. Huh? Hadn’t she told him not an hour ago she wanted to please her relatives? And hadn’t he basically told her to get out of his cabin? He knew she didn’t want her Aunt Emma and Uncle James to know about the two of them. “Uncle James,” she said and took a step forward. Terry’s grip on her shoulders tightened. Her uncle’s mouth opened and closed, and he clutched at his chest. “Jimmy, Jimmy,” Aunt Emma pleaded, curving an arm around her husband’s ample waist. “Remember, your heart. Where are your pills?” “Cabin, cabin,” James gasped and fumbled to loosen his scarlet tie, then stumbled against a chair. “Man looks like he’s having a heart attack,” Harrison muttered. “I’ll find the emergency kit. Someone get him to lie down.” “He has a heart condition,” Su-Lin muttered. “Aunt Emma told me about it. He takes pills.” A wave of panic crashed into her knees and they buckled. She couldn’t afford to lose her only relatives in the world. She grabbed the back of one chair, locked her legs, and blurted, “I’ll get the pills. I know where he keeps them.” Bending down, she flipped off the shoe straps, footed off the stilettos, and raced to the upper deck. Reaching the top of the stairs, she fretted a glance over her shoulder, and tears formed when she saw Terry pumping Uncle James’s chest in the classic CPR pose. All her fault. If only she’d done what they wanted, all of them, Dad, Mom, Uncle, Aunt. If only she knew what they wanted, any of them. Su-Lin found her uncle’s leather travel bag in the head and threw its contents into the sink. Fumbling through shaving supplies, bottles of colognes, and various prescriptions in boxes, she pounced on the sole pill cylinder. Waving it in triumph, she leaped through the doorway, down the corridor, took the metal steps two at a time, and jumped onto the deck. Geoff was already there waiting for her, and she slapped the container into his palm. “Dosage?” he asked. “Aunt Emma knows. It’s nitroglycerin, I think.” She skipped a step to keep up with him. “Is he okay?” “Breathing a little easier but has pains in his shoulder and upper chest. We’ve called the coast guard emergency boat. They’ll be here any minute.” Everything blurred after that. They spent the morning at a private hospital, Clinique Saint George, located off the E80 in northern Nice. Thomas, Terry, and Geoff called in favors, and before noon, all the tests had been run.

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Uncle James earned a clean bill of health, but the doctors suggested he spend the night, and arranged a room for his wife. The scare altered her relatives’ previously dour moods. Although Su-Lin protested, Aunt Emma and even Uncle James encouraged her to accompany the rest of the group to the masquerade ball. Guilt banded a vise grip around her chest in a double dose; the first because she may have caused her uncle’s attack; the second because deep inside Su-Lin wanted to escape her disapproving relatives. When Terrence hustled her out of the elite medical building, apprehension kept her bones and muscles glued together, bunching tighter with each step. He called Suresh during the short walk to the garage to collect his car and arranged appropriate costumes for the ball. Su-Lin and Terry left Nice about ten minutes behind Geoff, Harry, and Thomas. They reached the outskirts of the city within half an hour, and she fiddled with the radio. When the reception burst into static, Su-Lin switched off the volume control for the radio. She didn’t know what to say or do. “What does FMEO mean?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t betray her nervousness, clasping both hands together so he wouldn’t see her fingers trembled. “For My Eyes Only,” he answered and shot her a glance, his lips curving for a split second before they flattened. Fixing his stare at the asphalt climbing the side of a lush mountain, he blew out a long, audible breath. “I’m sorry, darlin’. About earlier.” He kept his gaze fixed on the road. She saw the hollow in his cheek as his jaw clenched. “Did I do something wrong?” Folding her hands, she studied her short, unpainted fingernails. “No, you did nothing wrong, darlin’. Nothing at all.” Unable to stop the motion, Su-Lin’s eyes swept to Terrence’s profile, tracing the straight line of his nose, the slight bump in the middle, which hinted of a break. “Why were you so mean,” she asked, then added, “afterward?” “Guilt makes for an angry bedfellow.” One hand gripped the other so tight, her knuckles whitened. She didn’t know what to make of his cryptic remark. “What does that mean?” “You’re the first good thing to happen to me in a very long time, Su-Lin Taylor. I felt guilty about taking your virginity.” “But I wanted you to,” she whispered, stroking his forearm, feeling the muscle twitching under her fingers. “You made it very special.” “Are you sore?” His hand trapped hers. “No,” she replied, shaking her head. “Don’t lie to me,” he growled. “A little sore.” Warmth tingled her neck, face, and ears. “I’m sorry I reacted the way I did, when…when, you know… I was surprised.” “You forgive me?” He curled his little finger around hers. She nodded, staring at their entwined pinkies, his large and thick, hers a third of his in length and width.

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“Terry, did you quarrel with Geoff and Harry because they don’t approve of me? Because I’m mixed?” “What!” He stepped on the brake so hard, she fell forward, and the seat belt tightened. The exclamation echoed off the car’s roof. “Where the fricking hell did that come from?” “You don’t have to shout,” she said. “My aunt said no peer of the realm would ever consider a woman of mixed blood. I knew you argued with Geoff and Harry, and it seemed logical that they disapprove of me. Being with you.” “That’s just so much crap, I’m not even going to dignify it with an answer. For the record, and I’m not going to say it again, Thomas and Harry both adore you. And Geoff, well.” He let go of her hand and tugged his fingers through his hair. “Let’s just say he thinks you’re good for my black soul.” “What about your father?” “My father knows my black soul only too intimately. We haven’t exactly ever gotten along, Su-Lin, and I really don’t give a fricking damn what the hell he thinks about us.” “Oh.” Afternoon sun cast dappled shadows along the asphalt. Cool breezes rose above the air circulating in the automobile, dimming the rise and fall of engines as Terry changed gears. Surreptitious side-glances showcased the grim line of his clamped lips. “Why did you tell my uncle and aunt about, um, us?” “Why did I tell them I bought the earrings? I’m thirty-one, Su-Lin, and I’m not going to sneak around like an adolescent. Not even for you.” Terry flicked a peculiar dart in her direction. “And it’s time you stop hiding behind your past. You had the burden of caring for your mother from early childhood. But now, you’re twenty-one, single, and free. It’s time you took charge of your own life.” “You don’t like them, do you?” Irritation prickled her nape, and she rubbed the spot with her thumb. “Do you think I could honestly like a woman who’d insult you that way? No, I don’t like them, and I realize that’s not fair to you. Look, I’ll try to keep my cool for the next three weeks. That’s all I can promise.” He leaned over and tucked a strand of ear behind her left ear. “I won’t allow them to bully you. Do you remember what you asked me this morning?” Ducking her head, she flashed him a grin and quipped, “I remember asking you all sorts of things this morning. What particular request are you referring to?” “You asked me to make you mine.” Their eyes met across the car. He thumbed the corner of her mouth. “I did. And I protect my own.” Her jaw dropped open, and she couldn’t get a word out, not for several minutes. “Do you think they know?” Su-Lin stuck her head over the half-open window and gulped in the scent of pine, which perfumed the mountain road. Her shoulders relaxed into the buttery car seat, and the corners of her mouth curved as the heat of his gaze pitted low in her belly. “That I seduced their virgin niece? I’m not a betting man, but I’d lay odds they know. What are you going to do after the cruise?” Eyes widening, Su-Lin straightened. “Uncle James and Aunt Emma want me to go with them to Hong Kong,” she blurted, startled by the abrupt change of subject.

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“What do you want to do?” Gray eyes raked her face. “What does Su-Lin Taylor want to do?” She blew out a long sigh. “I don’t want to go to Hong Kong, and I don’t want to live with Uncle James and Aunt Emma.” “Do you plan to go back to the States when the cruise is over?” “I think my return flight’s in four weeks, not three.” She frowned, bit her lip, and mumbled, “Why are you asking?” “What about staying in Nice for a while? Or Monaco? I have a condo in Monaco and a house in Nice.” Terry didn’t look her way, his gaze fixed on a hairpin bend looming in the distance. Her eardrums did a Niagara to her hearing, the roar drowning prepositions, adverbs, definite articles, so she had to concentrate and go over the words in her head. “Su-Lin?” Questions mushroomed in her mind and ate her words before they could jump out. Terry hit the turn signal and swerved the SUV into the shoulder traveling along the narrow space until it widened. Gravel spit at the vehicle’s tires and running boards, clinking unharmonious pings. For long seconds, the ticktocking of the turn switch competed with their tangled, audible breathing for the highest source of tension. Leather squeaked in protest as he swiveled in the seat and snapped the keys out of the ignition. One rough fingertip curled her chin to him. “I don’t want you to leave.” Joy had her throat pulse leaping, but she’d tried to picture them together after the cruise and seen a woman more alone than not. “What would I do when you’re at sea?” Su-Lin couldn’t fathom the expression in those stormy eyes or tell from the firm set of his mouth, not tight, not loose, if she’d angered him. “Whatever you want. Come with me? Stay in Monaco or Nice, explore the city?” “What would you prefer?” Frustration fretted the words out. “Ah, darlin’, don’t you know by now?” He unsnapped her seat belt. “I can’t talk with you so far away.” Flipping a switch, he shoved the steering wheel up, reached over, and hauled her into his lap. He knuckled her cheek and locked their gazes. “If I had my way you’d never be out of my sight. But you’re young. You should be enjoying life, going to the clubs. Doing wild twenty-one-year-old things.” Heat from the pad of his thumb glazed her face and a cinder did a slow burn, which tindered and sparked and burst into a blaze, warming her from inside, smoothing the roughened edges of her soul. She nestled her cheek into his palm and kissed the center of his hand. “If I had my way, you’d never be out of my sight either. I would wake up with you beside me. Watch you fall asleep at night. I could give you massages when you’re tense.” The twinkle in his eyes widened her smile, and they both burst out laughing. “I take it that’s a yes, Miss Su-Lin Taylor?” “It is, but it comes with a caveat. No, don’t look like that, I’m not asking for anything from you. I want to teach gymnastics to children. I think Suresh’s idea could work for my sport too.

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I’d thought of doing it back in the States, but I could do it here. Maybe we could find Adria.” His incredulous blank stare arrested her words. “Adria is the Gypsy girl who stole Thomas’s watch.” “Thomas’s Rolex watch,” Terry corrected. “Darlin’, must your first project be child thieves?” Tracing the lifeline on his callused palm, she peeked up at him. “I want to do something useful with my life. Uncle James is setting up a trust fund for me. For the first time ever, I won’t have to worry about money. Adria’s shoes had holes. You should have seen the way she looked at the food I gave them. It broke my heart.” “You’re such an innocent soul, so guileless.” He brushed their lips together. “Okay, we’ll ask Suresh more about the setup of his charity and see if we can do something similar. Will that make you happy?” “Very,” she replied, thinking how luck and fate had conspired to bring him into her life. “They’ll be angry, won’t they?” “Your relatives? You know it, darlin’. We’ll just have to find a way to break the news to them gently.” “Especially after this scare with Uncle James,” she said. “How do you think your friends will react?” “Harry’ll be jealous, but happy for us.” Looping her arms around his neck, Su-Lin delved her fingers into his hair. “Terry?” “Su-Lin?” He tweaked her nose. “This does mean we’re going to live together, right?” “Right as rain, darlin’. What’s in that whirring mind of yours?” “I don’t like the idea of all these people being angry about the two of us. It’s not good chi. Everything’s okay with you and Thomas now, isn’t it?” “It feels as if we’ve never been apart. Yet we’ve wasted so many years.” “I like him a lot. He wants to tell your father about being gay.” Terry’s head whipped back, and his skull thunked the car door. “He didn’t tell you?” “No, he didn’t. It’s not a good idea. Nothing good will come out of him telling our father. Like any proper English lord, he’s as homophobic as they come.” Terry’s lips curled at one corner. “Probably because he’s terrified some ancient taint runs in his blood.” “What are you saying?” “Ah, darlin’, the English aristocracy is well-known for its sodomites. Have you never heard the old joke?” “No,” she answered, shaking her head. “What’s England’s biggest export?” “Prince William?” She giggled, waggling her eyebrows. “Try again.” “I don’t know, you tell me.” “Sodomy.” “Sodomy?” “Buggery, actually, is the politically correct answer.” He shrugged.

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“Oh.” Her finger traced the outline of his full lower lip. “Then he isn’t going to take Thomas’s coming out very well, is he?” “I can safely predict his reaction. Hostile and vicious.” She hugged her arms. “It’s getting cold.” “And dark.” He stabbed the switch and the passenger window slid shut. “Harry and Suresh are probably wondering if we’re lost.” Setting her down on the soft leather, he straightened. “It doesn’t bother you at all?” She snapped the seat belt into place. “Thomas being gay?” He stuck the key into the ignition and turned it. “No, not anymore.” “Anymore?” She folded her legs to the left and unbuckled her stilettos. “Thomas is my identical twin, my other half. He told me on our sixteenth birthday. I was just coming into my own as a male. It felt as if he’d betrayed my manhood.” “He said you hit him.” She swept her eyes sideways and nibbled on a finger. “I beat him unconscious and then my father beat me unconscious for injuring his precious heir.” Laying a hand on his forearm, she blurted, “You were jealous of Thomas, weren’t you?” “One of the secrets of my black soul,” he said. “Thomas takes after my father. He’s an academic virtuoso, an accomplished musician and painter, and a successful barrister. They have the same interests. I hated school, hated being stuck inside a classroom, listening to someone drone on and on about algebra, or some equally abstract concept.” “Do you take after your mother?” She tried to read his expression, chasing the taut line of his mouth, the white knuckles clamped around the steering wheel. “At one time, I thought I did. She was an excellent horsewoman. Everyone admired her seat. She taught Thomas and me to ride.” “Not your father?” “Oh, he can ride. Make no mistake about that. He can hunt with the best of his peers. But he prefers politics and books and drafting laws or changes to laws. Thom loves that stuff too.” “But you don’t,” she stated. “No, I like a neck-breaking gallop on a wild coastline. Sailing a ship in a storm. Fighting the elements.” “You’re a natural athlete, anyone can see that. And your mother was too, am I right?” “She didn’t hunt, couldn’t abide killing for fun. But she was an expert markswoman and competed in the Olympics. She fenced, and she organized local archery tournaments. I remember the first time I beat her. I must have been all of ten.” He shot her a wry smile. “It sounds like the two of you were close.” “I wish I could remember her face more clearly. She had the bluest eyes, the exact shade of wild forget-me-nots.” “How old were you when she died?” “Thirteen years, three hundred and sixty-four days.” “She died two days before your fourteenth birthday.” Su-Lin’s voice wavered on the last two words.

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“Two days before Christmas she went to bed with a bad headache and never woke up. Much later we found out she had a brain tumor, which caused an embolism.” Su-Lin bit the inside of her cheeks so hard she tasted blood. And it didn’t help, not for a second. Tears streamed down her cheeks; she tried to swipe them away before Terry noticed, but couldn’t stifle a hiccupped sob. “Don’t shed tears, Su-Lin. It’s true what they say. Everything happens for a reason.” Turning in her seat to face him, she asked, “What good could ever happen over your mother dying so tragically?” “She never lived long enough to see the lousy human being her son turned out to be.”

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Chapter Eleven  “You did what?” Thomas’s jaw snapped back into place. “Clarify the situation, brother. Pray tell, exactly what does ‘I asked her to stay after the cruise’ mean?” With deft twists of his fingers, Terry buttoned the preknotted cravat around his neck and grimaced at the pouf of white lace foaming over his charcoal evening coat. “Exactly what I said. I asked her to stay, and she said yes.” Thomas threw his hands up in the air and slapped one palm against the tight ivory breeches encasing his thighs. “Read my lips. Are you two moving in together?” “Frick,” he groaned and grabbed the edge of a tall, round mahogany table. For the first time ever, his knees declared war on his body weight, and Terry scowled at the offending joints. He swallowed, then croaked, “Yeah, I guess.” They’d decided, in light of the outstanding balmy breezes and crisp, pine-scented mountain air, to leave the windows of their deluxe suite open. La Bastide Saint-Antoine, the charming boutique hotel Suresh had booked them into, had enchanted Su-Lin. His lips curled at the memory of her quiet enthrallment, the way her emerald eyes widened as her golden fingers stroked a period chintz vase. The way her nose scrunched as she sniffed the elaborate four-foot curling floral arrangement sprouting out of its center. He’d wanted to take her right there and then. Love her slowly and long, show her in actions how special she was to him. When she’d agreed to stay on and live with him, Terry had to call on reserves of discipline he didn’t know he had to contain the urge to roar and beat his chest. During the hour-long journey, she’d peppered him with questions. What was his house like? How often did he go out on charter? How many bedrooms did the condo in Monaco have? He strung out each answer praying she wouldn’t ask the one he dreaded. Why hadn’t he used a condom? Wishing he knew the answer, Terry shoved the implications of that deliberate act aside. “Geoff mentioned something, Ter, and although I know how paranoid he is, I think we could note it a bookmark.” Terry shook his head, his thoughts returning to the present.

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Their boyhood chum had recently taken up an advisory position at the Met in the old MI5 division of the UK’s Scotland Yard. Geoff’s naturally suspicious nature had rocketed into the stratosphere. Proving the theory, a little knowledge is a dangerous precedent, Geoff’s awareness of worldwide terrorist activities colored his every public interaction with strangers and made his childhood friends decades weary. “Spit it out then. A little heavy on the aftershave, Thom. You might want to tamp that down a bit.” Muted classical music floated in on a soft, uplifting draft, and a hint of evening chill laced the whirling waft. “I’ll have you know it’s Su-Lin’s favorite, Cool Water.” Thomas waggled his eyebrows. “I’ll even let you have some.” He waved a hand to the right, and although the wall curved and the bathroom couldn’t be seen from where they stood, Terry understood his twin’s meaningful gesture. Tempted, but discomfited that Thomas knew such an intimate fact about his woman, Terry opted not to surrender. “Scuttle it. What’s up with Geoff?” “You can’t smoke or drink if you’re taking nitroglycerin. Su-Lin mentioned to both of us her uncle had a cigar last night, and you saw how much wine he went through at dinner.” Terry shook his head and said, “Our boyo James is not what I’d term a disciplined man. The fricking man pants at a slow crawl. He’s at least eighty pounds overweight, and his only exercise is when he shovels a loaded fork into his mouth.” “I know, I said the same thing. But you know when Geoff gets something buzzing.” Thomas tapped his skull with a forefinger. Terry weighed Geoff’s suspicions against James’s obvious excessive personality; he grunted and shook his head. “It’s probably because I asked Geoff to run James by his Hong Kong connections. That could have set him off.” “Maybe.” Thomas’s cell phone vibrated; he flipped the screen open, glanced at the LCD display, and then snapped it shut. “It also could be Geoff going into overprotective mode too. He wasn’t too pleased when James objected to you and Su-Lin being together. The strange thing is I can see her aunt disapproving, but the uncle? I don’t know, but it doesn’t jibe.” “It scared Su-Lin silly, that near heart attack.” Distracted by the persistent cell phone vibrating on a lace-covered dressing table, Terry angled his jaw and said, “You can take it. I’ll leave if you need the privacy.” “No, it’s not important.” The grim line of Thomas’s mouth belied his trite answer, and he shrugged as if his shoulder muscles had corded into a rubber band stretched to bursting point. “Getting back to Su-Lin, how are you going to handle Lockheed?” “Let’s face it, after that tirade on the Glory, he’s not about to give his blessing to Su-Lin staying in Nice.” “Agreed. He’s liable to have a genuine heart attack when you two announce you’re moving in together.” “I wish you’d stop saying that.” Thomas peeled back the convoluted layers of white ruffles covering his fingers, scraped the material over his wrist, and swore. “What?” Terry grumped. “Remind me to get a new watch tomorrow.”

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“I wish you hadn’t bumped into those Gypsy kids. Now Su-Lin wants to find the thieving girl and set her straight through gymnastics. And I have this gut feeling nothing will stop her. She has this theory that within seconds of meeting someone, she knows what part they’ll play in her life.” “I wouldn’t berate it too much, brother. Look where it’s gotten you. How many intelligent, sensitive women would commit to being tens of thousands of miles away from the only home she’s known on the basis of what, five days?” “Seven days,” Terry corrected. He picked up an exaggerated winged cat-eye mask. “Do we really have to wear these bloody masks?” “The mask is the easy part. I hate the wig.” Thomas adjusted the ornate white-powdered hairpiece. “It’s bleeding sweaty under this thing.” “If Su-Lin hadn’t been so taken with this bloody costume, I’d be in khakis, a sweater, and loafers. These shoes make me feel like I’m in fricking Lord of the Dance.” Terry glared at the offending lavish, zircon-encrusted buckle covering his black patent shoes. “At least your buckle isn’t a rose,” Thomas said, and his chin met his chest as he studied his footgear. “I may be gay, but I’m no bleeding queen.” “Jaysus!” Terry yelled, as a cuckoo popped out of an old-fashioned standing grandfather clock behind them. “Bloody hell. It wasn’t so much the awful chirping as it was seeing that thing pop out.” “If I’d had my Ruger out…” Terry trailed off; he aimed a pointed finger at the clucking canary bird and said, “One shot.” “You favor Rugers now?” “I like the size. No one can tell if you’re carrying.” “Are you? In that costume? These bleeding breeches are skintight, and the jacket and waistcoat, the tailor adjusted both.” “Not mine. And I took a size larger jacket. See.” Terry shrugged out of the coat and turned around. “Ingenious design. It looks like a woman’s jogging bra with only one cup under the armpit. Seriously, Ter, why in bloody hell would you need a gun here? In rural France at a masquerade ball?” “I always carry. You never know. And lately, I have this back-of-the-neck feeling someone’s tailing me. Had it in Nice, had it last week in Antibes.” Terry thumbed the spot between his first and second vertebrae. “Why would someone tail you? Unless it’s Carol-Ann? Besides me and Geoff, does anyone else know about her and you?” “Frick, I hope not. The more people know, the more likely the chance it’ll leak to the press.” And Su-Lin would know all the ugly truths about him. For a second, the image of the look of disgust on her sweet face when she discovered the real Terrence O’Connor stained his pupils. His stomach griped. “I’d watch our father’s interactions with Su-Lin if I were you, Ter. He’s drinking again, and you never know what he’ll say if he gets her alone.” A vision of his father’s enraged face that last night years ago seared the air in front of Terry, and he squeezed his eyes shut as if that could blinker away the past.

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Thomas snared his wrist. “He doesn’t get physical anymore. Actually, over the last six months, it’s as if his anger’s fizzled away.” “Su-Lin told me you’re planning to come clean with him. Why?” “I’m tired of living a lie. A brain tumor is a potent wake-up call. If I only have a limited time left” -- he held up a hand -- “let me finish. If I only have a limited time left, then I want to tie things up. He needs to know I’ll never produce his heir, and it’s time you two made peace. I don’t expect a fairy-tale ending, but if he doesn’t recognize you, the line ends with me. Frankly, I can’t sully Mama’s memory with that. She deserves better.” “You know what target to hit,” Terry said, fiddling with the lace frothing from his cuffs. “Okay, okay. I’ll try and mend fences, if the old man will let me. Where do you and he stand, Thom?” “We’ve developed an amicable relationship over the last eighteen months. Carol-Ann started flaunting her affairs almost five years ago, and Father retreated to the estate. He stopped attending Parliament. A couple years later, Mrs. Bertram phoned me to tell me he wasn’t eating. I was worried. I went to see him. He was listless and seemed so defeated.” Terry snorted; he couldn’t picture his father listless, far less defeated. “And now?” “I persuaded him to work with me on an amendment to the laws of inheritance. We have dinner weekly at his club. Occasionally, I join him and his friends for a game of billiards. Like I said, amicable. No life-changing topics.” “When’re you planning to tell him about the operation?” “I’ve been waiting for the right moment. I wanted to make things right with you first.” “How do you think he’ll take the news?” “Which part? Me being gay or the tumor?” Terry rolled his eyes. “The tumor, Thom. Being gay isn’t life-threatening.” At his brother’s raised eyebrow, he added, “AIDS and being homosexual aren’t one and the same, and we both know that.” “I’m more curious as to how he’ll react to Su-Lin moving in with you.” “He’d better not spout the same crap her aunt did. Do you know she actually told her that a peer of the realm wouldn’t marry someone of mixed blood?” “You’re thinking of marriage?” “She wouldn’t have me, not once she finds out about our dear stepmother.” “You’re going to tell her?” Terry flipped the brass lock on a cherrywood humidor. “Carol-Ann’s in France. Suppose she shows up? Or worse, finds a way to accidentally” -- he mimicked quotation marks with his fingers -- “bump into Su-Lin? My goose is cooked then.” “It’s a tricky situation.” “Tell me about it. No matter what I do, I’m screwed. If I tell her, that’ll be the end of us. And if Carol-Ann finds her, that’s the end of us.” He closed his eyes. “Plan B is what I’m going with: keep her plastered to my side or have someone shadowing her when she’s out of sight.” “Are you serious?” “Dead. I had Austen follow the lot of you when you were in Nice.” “Why?”

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“Probably straight paranoia. Nothing I can put my finger on, just the lingering suspicion something’s not right.” “Trust your instincts, Ter. I’ve always regretted when I didn’t.” “I plan to.” “Shall we go down?” “Yes. I have to find the kitchen and speak with the caterer.” “The caterer?” Thomas halted midway to the door. “Did I hear right?” “Su-Lin’s allergic to macadamia nuts and bacon. She accidentally had something with her vegetables last night and was as sick as a dog this morning. She should be wearing one of those medical warnings. I’ll speak to her about one tonight.” “Never heard of anyone being allergic to bacon. Nuts, yes, but bacon?” “Her lips turned blue at one point. Scared the daylights out of me. I’m monitoring her food from now on.” “You do realize you’re obsessed with her?” “Yes,” he said and rolled his eyes. “I’m past the point of simple obsession. I watched her breathe for a couple of hours this morning. Almost put a mirror under her nose just to make sure.” “I know the enfant terrible peculiarity only too well, Ter. It’s called love. It’s the worst thing in the universe, the only thing worth living for, and it plays havoc with your mind.” Arrested by his twin’s turned-down lips, the dreary crinkles bracketing the corners of his eyes, Terry recognized a cognizant soul. “You too,” he said. “Love stinks, the proverbial wisdom says.” He cricked his neck. “Nothing a stogie can’t blinker for a few minutes. Want one?” Terry asked, proffering a sable Churchill cigar. A half smile sprouted at Thomas’s mouth. “I didn’t know how much I’ve missed you until now. Thanks. Is this for when the men retire to the smoking room?” “Come again?” “We’re recreating a Regency masked ball to a T, including dance cards, midnight buffet, a card room, and the den’s the place for port and cigars.” Thomas appeared to enjoy his reaction, grinning when Terry’s lips curled toward his feet. “Jaysus. This promises to be a long, long night.” “Be grateful Suresh nixed the idea of period music save for waltzes.” “Fricking hell, dancing. Make my night, why don’t you? There better be good scotch if I have to take to the dance floor.” “Chin up, brother. You can disappear with Su-Lin as soon as the dancing starts. Her aunt and uncle aren’t here, remember? No chaperones.” Thomas jabbed an elbow into his twin’s rib cage. “See, good news somewhere. We may as well get going.” “I haven’t danced since our bloody lessons with that fricking dance master.” “That was sheer torture.” Thomas gave an exaggerated shudder. “Do you know what SuLin’s wearing?” he asked as they strode out of the suite.

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“No, she wanted to surprise me,” Terry answered and stopped dead at the top of a threestory staircase burdened with a wide landing on the middle level. “Did you have any idea so many people were coming?” Thomas’s hushed question mirrored Terry’s stunned shock at the throngs milling the packed ballroom. Candlelight provided the only relief for the shadowed corners of the immense room. A classical band to the right of the staircase played “Amelie’s Waltz.” Dancers twirled graceful circles around the perimeter of the rectangular space. Powdered wigs, floor-length ball gowns swirled the vicinity. Miniature citrus trees bearing lemons, oranges, bowl-shaped grapefruits, perfumed the air, aided and abetted by the heat of thousands of candles flickering a soft, golden glow over the Cinderella setting below them. Scanning the room, Terry’s fingers flexed into fists when he couldn’t find Su-Lin. But all the women looked alike with powdered wigs, mask white complexions, and frothy, lacy gowns of all colors, a myriad of ice cream-colored hues. His mouth curved as he thought of how the scene below would enthrall her. “Frig,” Thomas said, “we’ll never figure out who’s who.” They descended into the fracas. Before they could take two steps into the hordes milling about, a hand clamped Terry’s forearm. “I want to raise at least eleven mil from this event, so I need you to pander to the power brokers, buddy.” “Suresh, how in the hell did you make me?” Terry checked his friend out, decked out in long black coat-tails, a moss jacket, cream poufy shirt with lace everywhere, and beauty spots, actual beauty spots, one glued to the right of his mouth and one below his left eye. “Jaysus, boyo, you’re wearing beauty spots.” “So what? I’ll have you know Su-Lin put them on, and she thinks they’re sexy.” “’Scuse me. Did I hear right? You let my woman touch you?” He emphasized his outrage by stabbing a finger at Suresh’s chest. “Simmer down. And before you punch my delicate face, I surrender. The woman is gaga about you. Now listen up. Everyone’s paid ten thou for an invitation, but we’re having an auction after the midnight supper, and that’s where I expect to raise the most money.” “Suresh, I see Bill and Melinda over there. What the bleeding kind of auction would interest them? Their spare change is in the billions, and they’re giving it away.” Thomas punctuated his statement with a dramatic incline of his head. “I’m not interested in them. They’ve already given their max. And forget about Warren, he’s done the same. I’m interested in the European royalty who’s here. Follow me, let’s work the room.” “Where’s Su-Lin?” Terry asked. Suresh let out an exaggerated sigh. He pointed to the far corner of the room. “I believe she’s over there behind a potted lemon tree. She’s guarding her dance card, wouldn’t even let me claim one dance until she’s seen you.” His senses heightened, and all at once, he became aware of feminine smells, a hint of flowers here, a certain musky aroma to the right, and the background of excited murmurs circling the room. Terry grabbed a fluted champagne glass from a passing footman and downed its contents.

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As he pushed through the multitudes, his shoulders and chest brushed breasts bared to nipple point by skimpy necklines and plumping corsets. He hadn’t seen so many uplifted breasts since his stint in LA. His lips pursed at the memory. Then he spotted Su-Lin and his mind blanked. She wore shamrock-green satin, the color so dark in the uncertain lighting it appeared a shade above black. His mouth watered and a strange tenderness blossomed in his chest, making it hard to take regular breaths. Even with the white wig, the pale face paint, her slanted jade eyes couldn’t be mistaken, that plus the innocent exhilaration animating her face, her whole posture. Shoulders lifted, one slippered foot tapping in time to a minute waltz, a splayed orientalpatterned fan waving a graceful arc in one hand; he knew at once -- he would never let her go. He stood stock-still, entranced. Terry couldn’t fight it any longer. He, thirty-one-year-old, hard-ass sailor, was in love. Big-time. Fricking, puppy-adoring love. Do-anything-to-keep-the-princess love. Carol-Ann-ruining-it love. Jaysus. He felt as if someone had rammed him in the gut. “Terrence,” she said and glided toward him like an angel taking winged flight. “You look so handsome, except for the wig.” She scrunched her nose. “I hate mine. How did people ever wear these things? It’s so itchy, and I keep wondering how they clean them after they’ve been used. Where’s Thomas?” She stuck her head, powdered wig and all, around his shoulder blade. “We shouldn’t leave him alone tonight. I have this feeling.” He found his voice. “Want to dance?” He hated dancing, but the thought of holding her in his arms won victory over his left feet. “I’ve never danced a waltz, but it doesn’t look too hard,” she answered, and her eyes glowed her happiness. “One, two, three, turn, one, two, three, turn. Such simple steps, yet it looks magical, as if the couple’s twirling on air. Yes, please, I want to dance the waltz with you.” The opening strains of “The Blue Danube” whispered across the room, conquering the low murmur of conversation as violins hit a crescendo, and the familiar rhythm, playful, perfect, hypnotized their movements. Steps ingrained from his mother’s dancing master captured Terry’s feet. Su-Lin’s natural grace matched him twirl for twirl, and their eyes drowned in each other’s. A lifetime in a dance. A universe in a dance. Neither realized the music had stopped, so engrossed in the flawless moments, so ensnared by the other. “I need to speak with you.” Reality shattered the magical minute. Harrison’s voice was as coarse as gravel on skidding skin. It took Terry aeons to find his brain again, so suspended had it been by Su-Lin, by his stunned realization he had found the only woman in the world for him.

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“Go away, Harry,” he growled, unable to wrench his gaze away from her flushed cheeks, the flowing emotion between them. “Can’t, Terry. I need to speak with you.” Something in Harry’s clipped tone raised the hairs on his chest, back, forearms, anywhere the damned follicles grew. Terry’s head snapped to the right, and Harry’s expression sent each lock on his body into a full-fledged salute. “Darlin’,” he said, turning to face her. “Wait right here. Don’t move. Let me take care of whatever it is Harry wants.” “Okay.” She sighed and her lungs did the sweetest thing to the cleavage, brimming her rounded breasts to spilling over the meager neckline. A thought snapped his cock into a psychedelic reaction, twitching and jerking in the snug breeches. Was she wearing a corset? Something scarlet and lacy? “Tell your prick to take a break,” Harrison ordered and dragged Terry through two-storyhigh French doors. “Carol-Ann’s here.” “What?” He prayed he’d heard wrong and shook his head. “Read my lips. Carol-Ann’s here.” “Fricking hell. Where is she? Ballroom?” “With Suresh.” “Suresh? What the hell?” Terry knocked the powdered wig askew when he tried to drag his hands through his hair. “Why?” “She hasn’t seen me yet, so I’m disappearing in exactly five minutes.” “What?” “Chrissake, Terry, concentrate. Get Su-Lin and do a Without a Trace. Get gone. Take her back to Nice, to the Glory.” “Settle down. Give me a complete recon,” Terry commanded. “Pronto, Harrison.” “SITREP. She arrived in France two days ago. She knows I’m here.” Harrison scraped the wig off his head and tossed it into a jasmine-scented hedge bearing tiny white flowers with pale lemon centers. “Whoa! Stop that,” Terry said, and he stumbled into the stone balcony railings, his mind reeling. “How does she know you’re here?” “She asked Suresh for me, and you.” “What?” “Saw her with Suresh, made a beeline for her.” Harry scowled when he saw Terry’s expression. “For freaking sake, she’s wearing a white wig and a gown cut so low her puppies were showing. Figured she’d be an easy lay. Got close enough to hear her asking about you. Recognized her voice and almost puked. Turned around and hid.” “Where’s Thomas?” “Beats me, but not here.” “What?”

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“He hightailed it out of here a while back. Pissed Suresh off. That’s when Carol-Ann latched onto him. She’s seeing greenbacks.” Harry ditched his rented navy coat choosing different greenery to decorate, an eight-foot tangerine tree laden with squat orange globes. “Stop the dramatics.” Terry knuckled his eye sockets. “Let me think this through.” Harry’s explanation hit too many hotspots, too many coincidences. “You’re right. I’ll take Su-Lin back to the Glory. Stop stripping, Harry. Look, I can’t take a chance on running into Carol-Ann. You have to go back in there.” Terry pointed to the ballroom. “And get her.” Harrison had shed clothes by the second and now stood dressed in a pirate’s open-necked white ruffled shirt, buff breeches, and mirror-polished ebony Hessians. “Why on God’s green earth do you have a boner?” The question seemed to surprise Harrison. Eyebrows lifted, he shot a furtive dart at his groin and groaned. “Like I need this now.” He flicked a hand in the cool evening air. “I ran into a situation.” “A situation,” Terrence repeated. “A freaking incredible situation. I’m not going back in there, not on your life.” Harrison held up his hands and jangled car keys. At that precise second, the orchestra stopped playing and the metallic clunking jarred Terry’s ears. Harry leaped onto the balcony rail, bowed at the waist, and jumped. Terry cursed, sidled to the open doors, and peered around the white-painted wooden door frame. He cursed again and slipped into the ballroom, keeping to the shadows. It took him a good ten minutes to make his way to the spot where he’d left Su-Lin. He couldn’t find her. Palms damp, he searched for Suresh, Geoff, Thomas, anyone he trusted. Shoulder skimming the cool stone wall, he did a perimeter of the room, gaze surfing the couples on the dance floor. Nada. He recognized a couple of celebrities in the card room, smelled a rich Churchill cigar, and worked his way to behind the man smoking the stogie. Swearing under his breath when the man only resembled Geoff in profile, he stalked to the dining room. A burnished mahogany table laded with canapés, stacks of triangular porcelain plates, and crystal glasses brimming with miniature cocktail forks dominated the room. Under a flickering three-tiered chandelier, masked women and men flirted and conversed above the musical notes of a chamber trio playing in one corner of the room. Nothing. Worry tightened his trapezius as minutes ticked into an hour. The old-fashioned boutique hotel didn’t cater to computer cards, and Su-Lin had the only brass key to her suite, which was located on the ground level. Terry found a side door and left the ballroom. Manicured lawns softened his footsteps, and wisps of fog gave the sole relief to pitch-blackness. He headed to the far end of the rough-textured stone château. An open, terraced balcony fronted Su-Lin’s room. Loping up the steps, a stiff breeze lifted the tails of his coat and cooled the sweat peppering his neck. Muttering a curse, he fumbled with

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the cravat, tearing lace in his haste to remove the elaborate necktie. His hand closed around the brass doorknob, and he twisted it, stunned into a sudden immobility when he found it unlocked. Caution slowed his jerky hand, and he waited until his heart settled back into place before inching the heavy door open. Not a thimble of light sliced the room. A persistent hum played in the background. Terry halted in the doorway, edging the wood frame back into place. Deprived of clear vision, he let his other senses join the game. Attuned to every nuance, he identified the source of the noise, a minirefrigerator stacked under a microwave. A faint hint of patchouli tainted the air, and it spurred memories of Su-Lin’s toes kneading his knotted back. The turndown service had left a triplet of gold-foiled chocolate squares in the center of the king-size bed. His overdeveloped sixth sense had his fingers loose, flexing. No Su-Lin. Yet he felt her presence. He slid out of his heeled shoes and crept through the room on stockinged feet. The door to the sitting area yawned open, but midnight shaded any hint of its contents. His tongue cleaved to the roof of his mouth, fear coating the surface acrid. Terror sheathed his inching steps. His feet heavier than the rest of his limbs, Terry stepped through the arched doorway and had to squelch down the bile rising in his throat. Su-Lin lay sprawled on the sofa, powdered wig off center, dipping down over one closed eyelid. One nipple protruded from the sweetheart neckline of her verdant gown. Dark patches covered the bodice, irregular wet spots as if a drunk had sprayed her with a champagne bottle. A bottle of absinthe, green and glowing like a neon sign, spilled liquid onto the paisley buttercup couch. Vomit green blotches on a picture-perfect background. An anvil stamped his chest; Terry rushed to her and knelt beside the sofa. He grasped her wrist, and the weight bearing down on his rib cage lifted when her pulse pushed against his thumb. One survey of her face brought the proverbial monkey onto his shoulders. This was no natural sleep. Lips clamped together, fingers shaking, he grabbed for the phone. The receiver hit the plush carpet, and Terry scrambled for the earpiece. It smashed his ear when he finally regained control and stabbed the Front Desk button. “Get me an ambulance. Now.”

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Chapter Twelve  “Terrence?” Su-Lin frowned, and the effort cost her a throbbing back-of-eye-sockets headache. She knuckled her right eyelid, which drummed harder for the effort. “Thank God,” he said and collapsed onto the bed. “Speak to me. How do you feel?” “Not good,” she answered and dug the heel of her palm against the right side of her head. “I have a rotten headache and I feel queasy.” “The anesthesia should wear off soon, and you’ll feel better.” “Where am I?” Her glance searched the room, found the IV inserted into her left arm. “Am I in a hospital?” Vision blurred as a wave of nausea coiled bitterness over her tongue. Fear developed the taste into a poisonous sourness. “Yes, you’re in a private hospital in Grasse.” “My brain doesn’t seem to be working,” she said, and her tongue slowed the words so they came out one at a time in cadence with her mind. “I feel awful.” “Having your stomach pumped will do that to you, darlin’.” He brushed a damp lock of hair off her cheek. “I’m sorry?” Confusion warred with reality inside her brain. “My stomach pumped?” “It appears you drank an entire bottle of absinthe.” He traced a finger over her knuckles. “I don’t understand,” she said. “What’s the last thing you remember?” Terrence asked. She squinted at the instrument beeping on a square metal table adjacent to the hospital cot. The blood seemed to pump faster in her veins as scattered images flitted through her mind. She caught onto one and fixed it in place. “The masked ball? We waltzed?” Crossing her fingers under the thin sheet, she studied his face, praying for a positive answer, hoping against hope the magical moment hadn’t been a figment of her imagination. The taut line of his mouth softened. “Yes, we waltzed. Anything else?”

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Su-Lin held her breath, and she pinched the bridge of her nose. Her mother’s bewildered face curtained the room and faded into Terrence’s features. She frowned, and the action made the veins at her temples throb. “What happened next, darlin’?” He caged her fingers and thumbs between his warm palms. She stared at their joined hands and wondered if the insanity that had dogged her mother’s life would now control hers. Forcing back the thought, Su-Lin concentrated on his last few words. “I’m not sure.” She licked dry lips. “The masked ball. Was it last night?” “Yes. Are you okay?” “Last night seems so far away.” “The anesthesia will muddle your mind, darlin’. Things will get clearer.” Shaking her head, her eyes widened as she realized she didn’t have a clue. “I can’t remember.” “After we waltzed, Harry dragged me out onto the balcony. You were supposed to wait for me where I’d left you. Any of this sound familiar?” “Not really.” “Think carefully. Did you eat anything before we danced?” “I beg your pardon?” “I checked with the caterers. The chicken bouches were topped with macadamia nuts. The miniquiches had bacon in them.” She lifted a shoulder. “I can’t remember.” “Don’t look like that, darlin’.” He rubbed the space between her eyebrows. “It’ll come back to you.” “Why did they pump my stomach?” “Around one this morning, I found you in your hotel room passed out cold. There was a near-empty bottle of absinthe lying next to you.” “I drank a whole bottle of absinthe?” Under the thin cotton cover sheet, her fingers twisted together. At the beginning, after her father had died, her mother had drank. A lot. Most of the time, she didn’t remember what she’d said or done before she passed out. “They’re analyzing the contents of your stomach.” She tried to think back to the ball and remembered sipping champagne from a crystal flute after their magical waltz. A vague picture formed in her head of her in full skirts stumbling down a narrow, shadowed corridor. After a thirteen-second delay, his words penetrated. “Why would they do that?” “I asked them to. Su-Lin, you were ill yesterday morning. Last night you had to have your stomach pumped. Maybe your allergic reactions are worsening. I’m speaking to the doctors about ordering you one of those MedicAlert pendants for you.” “I had to have my stomach pumped once before, in high school, because of macadamias.” She shuttered her eyes, not wanting to see his reaction. “But I didn’t pass out.” She had no intention of telling him she’d been curious about absinthe after Thomas had told her about the liquor over lunch. A blurred memory of a glowing greenish liquid in an odd-shaped bottle niggled at the corners of her mind. Please, please, let it not be true. Su-Lin crossed her fingers.

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“Let’s take this one step at a time. First, let’s get a clean bill of health for you. You need to get some rest and eat, and get your strength back.” “I really don’t feel so good. I think cobwebs have taken over my brain.” She made a futile attempt to smile, but her lips slugged behind her words, and she burrowed into the pillows. She didn’t want him to notice her mind unhinging. He tucked the covers under her shoulders, and she murmured thank you, not realizing until after her eyes closed she’d spoken in Mandarin. Terry returned just as she finished eating a surprisingly tasty lunch; even the baby potatoes tasted wonderful, all garlicky and spicy. Su-Lin dabbed the cotton napkin to the corners of her mouth and said, “Hi.” He took the tray from her lap and placed it on a stainless steel table. Then he sat on the bed, framed her face, and brushed his lips over hers. She rested one hand on his jaw, feeling the day’s stubble on his square chin. He’d had a cigar recently, and she inhaled the smoky aroma. “You’re looking better, darlin’. There’s some color in your cheeks, and your eyes are bright again.” His hooded gaze studied her features one by one. “I had a shower and washed my hair. I feel human again. Terrence, I want to get out of here. Can we go back to the Glory?” “Yes, we can.” Hearing the “but” in his voice, she sank into the pillow. “This is the analysis of your stomach’s contents.” He handed her a folded, letter-sized sheet of paper. She opened it, smoothing the crease, and read the printed listing aloud. “Chocolate, absinthe, and I don’t know what the next one is. I can’t even pronounce it.” “It’s a prescription sleeping pill. According to this, you took more than a triple dosage. The doctor said we were lucky I got you here so soon.” Her jaw dropped open. She clamped her mouth shut. Her mother had attempted suicide. More than once. Usually after she drank a lot. “I didn’t take any pills, Terrence. I’d remember doing that. I know I would. Where would I get prescription sleeping pills? I haven’t been to a doctor in months.” “I’d understand if you had trouble sleeping after your mother died, darlin’.” “I’ve never, ever taken a sleeping pill. If I can’t sleep, I do this routine Coach taught us. I did it yesterday after you chased me out of your cabin. I burned a lavender candle. I’m sure you could still smell it.” “If you didn’t take the pills, then someone had to have slipped them into your food or, more likely, your drink.” “I didn’t take any pills. I swear on my mother’s grave.” “I’ll check with Suresh and see if anyone else suffered a similar fate.” “You don’t believe me. Why would I lie?” Su-Lin kept her eyes focused on the sheet of paper crumpling beneath her flexing fingers and prayed Terrence was right. That her mind hadn’t fractured. “I had chocolates,” she said, sitting up straight, her pulse pounding in her eardrums. “There was a welcome basket in the room, with fruit, wine -- red, I think -- and a box of chocolates. I nibbled on a couple while getting dressed.”

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He winced with his eyes, narrowing them halfway through her excited blurt. “What?” “I cleared out your room. There was no welcome basket, darlin’.” She rubbed her eyes and clamped her quivering lips together. “The chocolates were in my stomach contents, so I ate them, right?” When he nodded, she continued, “Where else would I have gotten them?” “Last night, I noticed your bed had been turned down, and there were three individual foilwrapped chocolates on your pillow.” “I didn’t imagine that basket. I didn’t. Maybe the hotel staff took it away?” “I’ll phone Suresh while you dress and get him to question the hotel’s employees.” He checked his chrome watch. “Let’s make a move. I want to get into Nice before rush hour. I’ll get the hospital paperwork filled. I brought your carry-on from the château while you were sleeping. It’s in the bathroom.” While getting dressed, Su-Lin replayed the last six weeks in her brain. Everyone had been kind. Treated like a princess by her aunt and uncle, like a beauty by Terrence, with kindness and affection by Thomas and Harrison. Except the Gypsy boy, the leader. He’d spat at her. Shaking her head, she muttered, “It makes no sense. Why would he want to hurt me?” Terrence walked back into the room at that instant, and her cheeks flamed. He shot her an odd look, but they didn’t converse; instead, they headed to the car. Even after they’d been driving for over ten minutes, she never noticed the rural rolling hills of emerald grass, the graceful curves as the narrow road hugged gentle slopes. Cracking her window at the top, she welcomed the sudden chill as manure-scented country air rolled around her shoulders and neck. “Have you remembered anything else?” Sorely tempted to lie, Su-Lin replied, “No, nothing definite.” “There’s something else Suresh discovered.” “I’m almost afraid to hear it,” she said, closed her eyes, and slumped down in the seat. “It seems a few of the ladies are missing jewelry, six rings, a few bracelets. Almost all of them admitted to being a little tipsier than expected.” “So it wasn’t just me. Thank God, I thought I was going insane. Why don’t you look as relieved as I feel?” “You wore no jewelry except for the earrings, and you’re still wearing them.” Shifting gears, he shook his head. “Earrings are not the easiest item to steal. You shouldn’t have been a target.” “I don’t care. At least there’s a logical explanation. Oh, before I forget, Aunt Emma called before I went down to the ball, to say that she and Uncle James are going back to the Glory late tomorrow. I guess that means today.” “Great,” Terry muttered, and she caught the rasp of dislike in his voice. Uncle James would be even more protective and overwhelming if he found out what had happened. Over the last couple of weeks, his paranoia about her safety had grown a little unnerving. Su-Lin traced a pattern on the leather armrest, trying to shed the nagging unease

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bunching her neck muscles. The Range Rover crested a hilltop, and she glimpsed an ivory mansion through rain-greened pine trees. Glancing at the building, she asked, “Are we taking a different way back?” “We’re making a slight detour. Thomas left the party in a rush last night, or so Suresh said. He said he had an emergency to take care of at the Fragonard estate.” Su-Lin recognized the name from the map shop in Nice. “I’m probably overreacting, but Thomas acted a little out of character last night. My twin intuition is pinging like crazy.” “Is that château part of the estate?” “Yes.” “Do you know the owners?” “Yes and no. My mother and Madame Fragonard were friends. As young boys, Thom and I visited the estate with her on a couple of occasions. We’re distantly related through some fourteenth-century ancestor.” “You think Thomas is here?” “Yes, and he’s not answering his cell.” “This is lovely scenery,” she remarked, changing the subject. “Hmm. Darlin’, did you inherit anything when your mother died?” “The house. It wasn’t worth much. Wrong side of town. Why?” “How did you hook up with your relatives?” “My mother’s lawyer had instructions to contact him. Funny, Annika never mentioned Uncle James. After the lawyer called, I went through our old albums to see if I could find a photograph. I didn’t find any.” “When did you meet them?” “Aunt Emma and Uncle James? About four weeks after my mother died. The lawyer had gotten in touch with them, and they telephoned me. They came to Mayo for my graduation.” He broke into a guffaw, and the car jerked. “Mayo? You lived in a town called Mayo?” “You have no idea how much ribbing we took when we traveled for gym meets. Yes, I lived in a town called Mayo.” Her mouth curved, and the tension she’d shouldered since awakening in the hospital seeped away. “This trip was my graduation present from Uncle James and Aunt Emma. They’ve really been kind to me, Terrence. I know you don’t like them, but if it hadn’t been for them, I wouldn’t be here.” “I’ll be eternally grateful to them for bringing you to me.” “But,” she prompted. “Did your lawyer do a background check on the Lockheeds?” “I guess so.” She nibbled on her fingertip. “I wish I felt some sort of connection with them, but I don’t. I know that’s rotten of me when they’ve been so generous, setting up a trust fund and all.” Her headache, which had receded, crept forward, and she applied her thumb to a pressure point under her eyebrow. “Let’s keep your staying on between us for now, Su-Lin. It’s no sense getting James riled when we can avoid it.”

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“Especially with his heart problems. I couldn’t live with myself if I cause him to have another heart attack.” “It wasn’t a heart attack, remember? With his inactive lifestyle and the extra eighty pounds he carries, a heart attack’s inevitable. He overreacted to the thought of you and me.” “He’s just being protective of me, Terrence. He wants me to be happy.” “That’s the only point in his favor. You’re so damned young. Any man worth his salt would be overprotective.” They rounded a hairpin bend and drove onto a tree-lined, sanded road. Autumn colors met and danced over their heads, leaves of every shade from black to rust to gold and rich greens, bobbing in a faint gust. Afternoon sunlight broke through the arched canopy splashing pools of light on the clay dirt. “Does our age difference bother you?” “What?” He snarled his fingers into his hair. “You keep referring to how young I am.” Terry’s expression didn’t change. She might have well been discussing the weather report. “It’s not a matter of age, Su-Lin. It’s more about life experiences.” He reached for her hand and held it. “There are things about me that you don’t know as yet. Things that may make you run for the hills.” “Then why did you ask me to stay with you?” “The truth, darlin’? I couldn’t stand the thought of you leaving.” He braked the car to a halt. They both admired the view in silence for a minute. In front of them, a symmetrical wide balcony with circular stone stairs on either end led to double doors the size of a small barn. “Should you phone Thomas?” He shot her a cutting glance, flipped open his mobile, and pressed zero . The phone went straight to voice mail; she heard Thomas’s voice through the speakers. “He’s not picking up.” Movement at the edge of her vision caught her gaze, and she lifted one eyebrow. “And I can see why,” she said, her eyes focused over his shoulder. “Look.” Terry followed the direction of Su-Lin’s gaze. A fountain centered the ring of emerald lawn fronting the château. So engrossed in their earlier conversation, neither Terry nor Su-Lin had noticed the two men standing under the soft cascading arcs of an elegant waterfall. Shirtless, breeches slickened to his skin, Thomas cradled his palms around the face of a tanned youth with sooty ringlets, his mouth fused to the slender man’s. Terry’s face blanched and his knuckles whitened on the leather-encased steering wheel. He stabbed the window control on the driver’s side. “Terrence, he loves this man,” she said, stroking his forearm, her heart leaping up to her throat. “Take a minute. Don’t be angry.” “It’s one thing to accept in theory,” he muttered and slashed his hand through locks tangled by the breeze blowing through the SUV’s open windows.

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“You’ve kissed me like that many times, and think of the pleasure it brings both of us. Shouldn’t Thomas have that too?” She touched his chin, urging him to meet her eyes. “He’s facing so many devils. Can’t you be happy he’s found someone?” “I made a promise to myself, to make things work between us. This is going to take some getting used to.” His mouth curled at one corner, and he brushed his thumb across her lips. “But I’m not going off half-cocked on him. If Thom feels an iota of what I do for you, then more power to him.” Her chest did a kind of Ferris-wheel sheer plunge. She stared right into slate eyes flaring charcoal as twin rings of black lashes did a double dip and shadowed his bronzed flesh. She wanted to shout the words out but knew the timing wasn’t right. She loved this man, loved him with her whole heart. His eyes hooded and he shook his head. “I’m getting maudlin in my dotage.” She cuffed his shoulder. “That’s it, no more reference to youth or old age. Got it?” “Getting feisty are you, darlin’? Maybe we’ll find a nice hotel for the night.” “Thomas?” she asked. “Don’t you need to speak to him?” “Right. Let’s to it, darlin’.” “Look.” She darted a hand in the direction of the fountain. The two men had noticed their arrival and stood immobile watching them. Terry opened the vehicle door and hopped out. Su-Lin followed suit, and she loped alongside him, taking a skip to keep up with his stride. Dusk approached, and the sun cast a rosetinged golden glow on the glistening spray floating on a circling gust, which made the droplets look like prisms. Their shadows preceded them, elongated, blurring as pea green blades of grass waved and waltzed beneath their shoes. Terry’s fingers stroked her knuckles, and she glanced at his face. Worry combed her skin at his reluctance to get nearer than four feet away. Thomas topped his lover by about six inches. The young man had a lean rock-star body, and a sculpted abdomen that would cause Marky Mark to foam at the mouth. Heat scalded her face when her gaze strayed to Thomas’s obvious arousal, and she cut a surreptitious glance at the Frenchman’s groin. Her eyes widened and she understood part of the Frenchman’s appeal, a gigantic part. Su-Lin sniffed, certain she smelled jasmine, and located the source of the scent, a curved arbor on the other side of driveway. Garlands of tiny white flowers interwove the verdant leaves like an airy spray of baby’s breath. Thomas’s lover shot her a crooked grin and shrugged. Su-Lin surveyed the two wet men. Hair slathered to his forehead, Thomas’s mouth mirrored the grim line of Terry’s. Shoulders squaring, he draped an arm around the young man, who looked to be in his early twenties. Chin jutting, jaw flexing, Thomas’s wide-legged stance dared disapproval. “Jean-Michel, meet my brother, Terry.” “Terrence, it’s a pleasure. I’ve heard a lot about you.” The young man shrugged off Thomas’s arm and stepped forward, hand outstretched. Breathing hitched, she prayed, fingers curling into a tight ball, and let out a long sigh when Terrence shook the man’s hand.

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“And you must be Su-Lin. I have also heard about you, albeit only recently.” He hopped in the water, making a little splash, and bowed at the waist. “Welcome to our humble abode.” “Did you like the map?” Su-Lin asked, surprised by the Frenchman’s flawless Bostonianaccented English. “Very much so.” He grinned, a flash of pearly whites showing through a one-sided smile. “My Thom indulges my hobbies, I’m afraid. He spoils me dreadfully.” Fascinated by the softening of Thomas’s flattened mouth, the gentle glance he and JeanMichel exchanged, Su-Lin checked Terry’s expression. He hadn’t said a word. “Have you told him?” Terry’s tone held a hint of steel. “I know,” Jean-Michel said. “And I’ll be coming to New York with Thom for the operation. Do you have a problem with that?” “No.” “Aren’t you two cold?” Su-Lin asked. “Water’s heated, see the steam?” Jean-Michel waved a hand at the fountain. “What was last night’s emergency?” “Jean-Michel threatened to come to the ball in drag.” Thomas’s scowl rivaled Terry’s, and both men’s eyebrows slashed together. “Why are you here?” “You weren’t answering my calls.” “My battery died, and I left my charger behind. Sorry. Didn’t mean to worry you,” Thomas said, and he stomped forward, caught Jean-Michel’s hand in his, and helped him out of the fountain. “Let’s go inside. Have a drink with us?” “We’d love to,” Su-Lin replied, sidling closer to Terrence. “Thank you.” Striding barefoot up the path, Thomas and Jean-Michel didn’t take the main staircase to the balcony but traipsed around the corner of the left side of the château. Thomas shot them a glance over his shoulder. “The pool entrance is this way.” Terry and Su-Lin followed; she tugged on his arm. “Are you going to be okay? With Thomas and Jean-Michel?” “How long do you think they’ve been together?” She stumbled in surprise. “Awhile. He said Thomas indulges his hobbies. And the way they looked at each other. They know each other well. And they’re obviously in love.” They came upon an open set of sliding glass doors leading to an Olympic-sized pool. Chlorine hit her nose and she wrinkled it, trying not to sneeze. Thomas, a white towel slung low around his hips, another mopping at his neck and shoulders, pointed to an open archway. “Conservatory’s through those doors. Jean and I are going to grab a quick shower. Drinks and canapés should be out there too. Are you all right, honey?” Thomas ambled close enough to touch her cheek. “You look a little pale.” “I had to rush her to the hospital last night, Thom. Someone slipped her a Mickey at the ball. They had to pump her stomach.” “At a charity ball? Each couple paid ten grand just to attend. We aren’t talking about pauper guests here.”

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“A few of the ladies missed jewelry today, and they complained of feeling drunker than they thought they should have.” “Curiouser and curiouser. We need to analyze this situation. You two make yourselves comfortable. We’ll be with you shortly.” “The chlorine’s making my nose tingle,” Su-Lin murmured. “How are you feeling?” He cupped her elbow and led her through the doorway. “Much better.” Twenty steps later, she raised her face to the last rays of the sun. The octagonal-shaped, glassed-in area proved enchanting, filled with blooming flowers, pink azaleas, blue forget-menots, simple yellow daisies, and climbing jasmine. Decorated with overstuffed white chairs and matching ottomans, glass and wicker armoires framed the entrance to the area. “Come here, darlin’,” Terry said and pulled her to him. “I haven’t had you in my arms for the whole day, and I need a fix.” She buried her nose in his sweater. “You smell nice.” “So do you, especially your hair.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and then lowered his head to nuzzle her neck. “I like the way you smell here.” He peppered a line of open, moist kisses up her nape to one oversensitive earlobe and grazed on the plump skin there. Thomas cleared his throat. Su-Lin stifled a moan and pushed her hands against Terry’s chest. Her mouth curved into a wide smile, and she said, “I think you and your brother are very alike, Terrence O’Connor.” “I mentioned to him the other day that we probably share similar appetites, and he visibly blanched.” Thomas’s voice came from behind his twin. “Before we start to discuss this situation, let me just say, I won’t apologize for my lifestyle or for my relationship with Jean-Michel.” By the time he finished speaking, Jean-Michel had appeared at his side. “Thom, there’s no need,” his lover said. “Your brother is very protective of me, Terry, as you probably are of Su-Lin. But we’re all civilized, n’est-ce pas? I have a very fine Château d’Yquem, a 1983 vintage, that I have been saving for a special occasion.” “Are you up to wine, darlin’?” Terry turned so that they stood side by side, his arm around her waist, and his thumb stroked her side. “No, I think I’ll stick to water for the rest of today.” “Then we’ll save the d’Yquem for another occasion.” “Jean and I were going to have a few small appetizers, drink some wine, and barbecue a couple of steaks.” He checked his watch. “It’s almost five. Why don’t you two spend the night?” “You got a new one,” Su-Lin exclaimed and grabbed Thomas’s left hand. “I don’t recognize this brand, but it’s beautiful. Look, Terrence, it doesn’t have all your fancy dials, but it’s very different. Why’re you blushing, Thomas?” “I had it made for him,” Jean said. “I worked with a gentleman called Kees Engelbarts. He hand-makes watches. We came up with the design. Do you want to tell them, or should I?” Thomas’s complexion grew pinker, and his features mimicked that aw-shucks expression Harrison often wore. “Looks like I’m moving here, fingers crossed, after the operation.”

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“How often must I tell you, positive thoughts?” Jean linked their fingers. “I did not go through all the trouble of coming out to my family to lose you. We are going to grow old together, cher, and that’s all there is to it. Voilà.” Jean kissed the back of Thomas’s hand and flashed him a crooked half smile. “Would you prefer a Jameson, Ter? Jean-Michel has quite a selection, and he has a supply of vintage, hand-rolled Churchills made by HRH’s supplier.” Terry’s mouth curved. “You two live a decadent lifestyle.” “Non, we are not always like this. I have these few weeks with Thom, and we decided to make every second count. We don’t know how long his recovery will be. But tonight, you two have questions. Tell us what happened last night.” While Terry summarized what he and Suresh had pieced together, Jean-Michel served the twins whiskey, neat, and both men chose cigars. Su-Lin sipped on carbonated water with a slice of lemon, and Jean-Michel nursed a glass of Bordeaux burgundy. While the twins discussed different brands of cigars, she told JeanMichel she’d prefer to have a simple salad as she still felt queasy. He murmured his understanding and assured her a salad always accompanied a meal at the Fragonard estate. Spirals of smoke puffed clouds above Thomas’s and Terrence’s heads. Both men sprawled in the same position, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, faces pointed to the domed glass ceiling each time they blew out a perfect circle. Jean-Michel drank his wine, one knee bent, bare foot resting on the edge of a white cushion. Su-Lin noticed his tanned toes curling under Thomas’s thigh. Every so often, Thomas threw him a squinted warning, and his toes retreated. It felt like family. She snuggled closer to Terry, absorbing the warmth of his large, hard body, as the two men speculated and threw out different theories. “The absinthe bit puzzles me. The first time you’d heard of it was in Nice. Who else could have known that?” Thomas asked. “You didn’t mention anything about drinking absinthe in Nice.” “I didn’t drink it then. The words were on our umbrella, and I asked Thomas what it meant. He told me it was an aphrodisiac.” Heat scalded her cheeks. “I’m sure the whole thing is just a weird coincidence.” Terry shook his head. “I’m becoming as paranoid as Geoff, who by the way is using all the MI5 data banks to do his own digging. I spoke with him after Suresh.” “Where is Geoff?” she asked. “He had to fly back to London early this morning.” “Time for the steaks.” Jean-Michel tapped Thomas’ shoulder. “Your job, mon amour.” The minute they sat down to eat their charred-on-the-outside, bloody-on-the-inside bone-in ribeyes and Su-Lin’s salad, Terry’s cell phone rang. He glanced at the glowing LCD and hit receive. “What’s up, Geoff?”

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Chapter Thirteen  Terry heard the first few words Geoff said, and slid down in the chair, long legs scraping the tiled floor for purchase. He fought the natural arching of his eyebrows, the flattening of his lips, and any other obvious stunned reactions. Instead, he turned so Su-Lin couldn’t see any trace of his outraged fury. Stabbing mute with his thumb, he swiveled in his twin’s direction and asked, his voice gravel and dirt, “Thomas, is there a study? Someplace I can access the Internet?” “Of course. Su-Lin, Jean, go ahead and eat. I’ll show Ter the library, and then I’ll rejoin you.” Thomas frowned and angled his head in the direction of the sliding glass doors leading to the conservatory. Thigh muscles contracting, Terry lurched to his feet, punched another key, and spoke into the receiver, “Geoff, hang on. I’ll call you back in a few.” Fear coated his mouth, making it acrid to the point of nausea. As soon as they rounded out of the room, Terry grabbed his twin’s arm, pulled him into the first empty room he found, and snapped the door closed. “Su-Lin’s mother doesn’t have a brother. Annika Taylor was an only child. Geoff needs a photograph of James and Emma Lockheed, pronto.” He dragged sweaty palms through tangled locks and winced on a stubborn knot. “Jaysus, I never saw this coming.” Save for a brief dilation of his pupils, Thomas’s features remained neutral, and his legal training took over. “Your instincts were bang on, brother. Someone drugged her. Let’s get to the library. It’s down the hall to the right.” His twin led the way, and both men loped along in silence. Terry put a lid on his panic by focusing on repeated special-ops procedures much favored by the Americans in Afghanistan, and ended up in the library without knowing how he got there. Thomas went straight to a decanter-laden sideboard filled with liquids of all hues and colors. He lifted a crystal stopper off a diamond-cut, squat carafe and sniffed. “Cognac?” “Anything to get my heart started again. Pour, will you? I’m wound so fricking tight right now, I’m likely to throw the blasted bottle against a wall.”

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In the act of grasping two tumblers with four fingers, Thomas’s head jerked up, and his mouth pursed. “I’d say we both have it bad, brother. Maybe it’s time you started thinking about wedding bands.” Terry gulped down a mouthful of the heaviest air in the world. “Sod it, Thom, not the time, nor the place. Geoff wants me to call from a landline. You realize that if this information’s true, then the implications are mind-boggling.” “Get a grip, Ter. What in bleeding hell’s behind all of this?” Downing the liquor in one swig, Terry welcomed the stinging path it coursed to his listing gut. “Su-Lin can’t know about this until we figure out who the fricking hell those two characters are. What on earth could they possibly want with her?” He set the crystal down on the wooden counter with a thud. “If it’s true, this is a bleeding elaborate scheme. A significant sum of money must be involved. Trust me, after the last ten years of practicing criminal law, I can guarantee you a deception like this comes down to one or two motivators -- sex or greed, or both.” “Su-Lin’s the part that doesn’t make sense. She’s a small-town, unsophisticated girl.” “Let’s hear what Geoff has to say. Use that phone on the desk.” Thomas angled his chin to the right, indicating an ugly black phone. He refilled the two glasses and handed one to his brother. “My mind’s bouncing in half a dozen directions all at once. If Lockheed isn’t her uncle, why spend money taking a stranger on an expensive Mediterranean vacation?” Terry hit the LCD display on his cell phone and thumbed out Geoff’s private line on the old-fashioned landline’s black keys. “I’ll leave it on speaker.” Geoff answered on the first ring. “It’s me.” “Can you talk freely?” “Yes, we’re in the library. Thomas is here too. Spill it.” “I had our Hong Kong office check out the Lockheeds. We received the report an hour ago. The photo IDs in my e-mail don’t match either James or Emma. By the way, I forwarded the pics to your mobile. The real Lockheeds are a well-heeled British couple. He’s in construction, and his company built the new Hong Kong airport prior to the handover to the Chinese.” “How solid is this information?” Terry checked the in-box on his cell, sucked in an audible hiss, and inclined the LCD to Thomas’s point of view. “James Lockheed belongs to the Royal Hong Kong Yacht Club. The British ambassador personally verified his identity.” “We see the photos, Geoff,” Thomas said. “Chalk and cheese. The genuine couple are tall and thin.” “Who the fricking hell are our two?” “It’s an ominous situation your lady love’s got herself into,” Geoff stated, his accent becoming more clipped as the conversation proceeded. “There’s more.” “Terrific. What?” “What do you know about very high-denomination treasury notes?”

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Geoff never wasted a single word, so Terry waited for the dots to connect even though the change of subject proved bizarre indeed. He slouched into a guest chair, crossed his ankles, and steepled his fingers on his flat belly. “The US offered them after World War II but discontinued using them in the late sixties.” In a black leather executive chair facing him, Thomas rested his elbows on spread knees and waved a what-if gesture. “Why do I get the feeling we’re here for the duration?” “Stifle your impatience, Thomas. Treasury notes are coupon bearer securities. To redeem the interest on the bond, the owner hands in a coupon and collects the money once a year. Approximately six weeks ago, a five-hundred-million coupon was presented to a bank in Columbus, Ohio. The name on the bond was Annika Taylor, Su-Lin’s mother.” Shocked into complete silence, Terry could only stare at the phone’s display, the white numbers on the phone’s keys , while his mind clipped into black holes. “To collect the money, the bond owner has to show proof of ownership from the purchase date of the bond and must claim the interest in person.” “What’re you saying?” “The bank’s security camera clearly identifies Annika Taylor when she claimed the money. According to Federal Reserve records, three notes with sequential serial numbers were purchased a while back. The first is in the name of Annika Taylor, and the other two are in the name of Jenny Taylor.” “How did you get this information?” Thomas asked, balancing his chin on intertwined fingers. “I ran a check on all of them, Su-Lin, her father, Annika, and the Lockheeds. Because of the fraud associated with these bonds, banks have stringent reporting requirements, including notifying the Federal Reserve when a bond is redeemed. When I ran Annika’s Social Security number, the bank’s software cross-checked the Federal Reserve’s system, and it triggered fraud warnings.” “Su-Lin knows nothing of these bonds. I can guarantee that, Geoff. Her uncle says he’s going to settle a bond on her, and she’s so fricking grateful. She said it would be the first time in her life she won’t have to worry about money. ” “Add to that, the fact she told me she worked two jobs to support her mother.” Thomas drummed his fingers on the desk. “If her mother knew about these bonds, why did they live in poverty?” The whole scenario percolated, and Terry considered all the angles. “Su-Lin’s mother’s death started the ball rolling,” Terry said. “The lawyer who handled Annika’s will contacted the Lockheeds.” “How did her mother die?” “No clue, Geoff. Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Exhume the body?” “Go back a few steps, you two.” Thomas held up a hand. “How did our James and Emma find out about the notes? I refuse to believe this is blind luck.” “Agreed, Thom. But even more importantly, how did they manage the claim? You said the bank’s security cameras have Annika on tape. Correct?” “Yes.”

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“Su-Lin told me her mother was almost completely bedridden, and she was her only caregiver from what I’ve heard. According to Su-Lin, her aunt and uncle never met her mother. They arrived in the US four weeks after she died.” “Only one face on the tape, Annika’s.” “Run a check on the relatives’ passports. Maybe they came in earlier than they wanted SuLin to know.” “Homeland Security’s now involved in New York, and we’re checking everything on our end. She’s in danger, Terry. I’ll lay any odds those two impersonators will cash the other two bonds in, and I’m betting sooner rather than later.” “I fricking got that point, Geoff. We’re between a rock and a hard place. We can’t spike James or Emma’s suspicions, which means not telling Su-Lin anything. But we can’t allow her to be alone with them, not for a fricking minute.” “Terry found Su-Lin passed out last night. Her stomach had to be pumped,” Thomas interjected. “I can’t believe there’s any connection with James and Emma. They were in Nice last night. In a hospital. I don’t see how they could’ve drugged her.” Logical reasoning didn’t prevent Terry’s stomach from dropping through the chair. “What’s the interest on a five-hundred-million note, Geoff? Five cents on the dollar?” Thomas pointed out. “Greed’s a great motivator.” “And I don’t trust Lockheed one iota. I’m for them being behind this.” Terry leaned forward, elbows resting on knees. “Let’s assume they are. How did they force Annika into claiming the interest? How do they plan on getting Su-Lin to cooperate?” “Geoff, when James Skyped you, how did the conversation go?” “Introduced himself. Said he had a friend who’d recommended the Glory, and he wanted to charter it for a Greek isle tour. I gave him your cell and told him to contact you when he firmed up his schedule.” The sound of flesh slapping flesh made the connection static for a second. “He asked for you, Terry, Terrence Gore, not Terrence O’Connor. I didn’t catch it at the time.” “I’ve used mother’s surname since I left home. All my IDs are in the name of O’Connor. He phoned you about the charter and he also inquired about it at the Cap’s concierge desk. When I found out, I’d just encountered Su-Lin. I thought I’d won the lottery.” He shook his head. “Something stinks.” Geoff heaved a sigh, and the sound carried hundreds of miles over airwaves. “Let’s wrap this up. I’ll start researching Annika’s will and the lawyer who handled it. I need shots of James and Emma. E-mail me as soon as you have them.” “Where are you?” “London. I’m in the middle of a classified situation. If you need me, I can fly in, but it won’t be easy. Keep me apprised of events.” “Will do. We’ll touch base tomorrow.” “Good.” Terry hit speaker and silence engulfed the room.

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Thomas refilled their crystal tumblers, and glass clinked on glass. “We’d better head back. I’ve completely lost my appetite. We’ll take you up on spending the night, Thom. I want more of a plan in place before we go back to the Glory.” “And Jean-Michel and I’ll join you for the cruise. You’ll need every eye on Su-Lin.” “And Father? He’s not going to react well to your relationship with Jean-Michel. And when he hears of your planned move?” “Right now it all seems trivial, especially in light of my planned surgery and the danger Su-Lin’s in,” Thomas said and kneaded the back of his neck. Both men rose. Terry trudged back to the conservatory, thoughts scattered, hands flexing and itching to connect with James’s pudgy jawline. Stars twinkled above the conservatory’s roof, and candles danced in a gentle breeze flowing from an open door. A throaty jazzy version of “Killing Me Softly” played, the chorus ebbing and flowing as the wind gusts changed direction. “We put your plates in the barbecue’s warming drawer,” Su-Lin said and dabbed the corner of her mouth with a white napkin. “I’ll get them for you.” “Sit, darlin’.” Terry curved his palm around her bare shoulders and exerted a slight pressure. “What did Geoff want?” she asked and brushed her cheek against his forearm. “To let me know he’ll join us on the cruise after all.” “That’s good.” “Jean-Michel and I are also going to come.” “Oh.” She clapped both hands together. “I’m so glad. Is your head hurting, Thomas? You’re rubbing your right temple again.” She dropped the napkin on the table and said, “Sit. I’ll give you a massage.” Moving to stand behind one of the wicker chairs, she patted the rounded edge. “You have magic fingers.” Thomas dropped into the wicker. The white cushion covering the seat flattened and the material squeaked. Thomas closed his eyes. Rolling her thumb pads in cadence, Su-Lin worked a vein throbbing at Thomas’s right temple. Thomas’s shoulders slackened, and he arched into her touch. “Better?” “Mmm, much. Thanks, honey.” “You must show me how to do that, Su-Lin. Thom often wakes in the middle of the night with an aching head.” Reseated, Su-Lin’s mouth curved, and she replied, “Of course, Jean-Michel, it would be a pleasure. It’s wonderful to be able to help.” “Did you learn the acupressure from your mother?” “No. Dad taught me how to do it when I was a little girl. He loved it, especially when I walked on his back.” Color stained her cheeks, and she batted her eyelids. “Terrence likes that too.”

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Terry used oven mitts to extricate two plates from a stainless steel drawer underneath the barbecue. Mundane activity had settled his whirring thoughts, and he’d reached a strategic perspective. Interrogate, collate, and distract, in that order. “I’ll switch to wine, Miche.” “So, will I,” said Terry. Jean-Michel filled three wineglasses with a rich, oaky Shiraz, and the smell of cassis and grapes imbued the cozy space. “Sure you won’t join us?” Jean-Michel waved the green bottle in a wide arc. “No, thanks.” The aroma of charcoal-seared steak collaborated with the wine, and Terry’s appetite returned with retribution. Adrenaline spiked his prick. His hooded glance traced Su-Lin’s neckline, the slight hint of cleavage. Already deciding to forgo dessert, he cut into his rare ribeye and red juices flowed over the delft-patterned porcelain. “Are you a vegetarian?” Jean-Michel asked. A trace of hesitation had Terry holding his fork an inch before his mouth, and the cube of meat spat a drop onto his plate. Su-Lin noticed, and she patted his knife hand. “It doesn’t bother me. I prefer this.” She waved at the garden salad on her plate, picked up a grape tomato, and popped it into her mouth. Terry’s mouth quirked up at one corner; he winked and chomped into the steak. To Jean-Michel, she said, “I’m not completely vegetarian. I do eat fish and seafood.” “I seem to remember you having bacon-wrapped scallops the other night,” Thomas stated. “Aunt Emma ordered that dish. I actually have a bad reaction to the nitrates in bacon, and I never eat it. ” “What? You have a strange look on your face, Terrence.” “Nothing, I’m just being paranoid.” He and Thomas swapped glances. “You had to have your stomach pumped last night, honey. You can’t fault my brother for worrying.” “I guess not. “Don’t let your aunt bully you, Su-Lin.” The short rein on Terry’s temper almost dissolved, and he swallowed a mouthful of wine, working the liquid over his tongue. “You mentioned your uncle’s setting up a trust fund for you?” “Yes, he’s very generous. He’s going to buy bonds in my name.” Terry’s grip tightened around the heavy sterling silver knife, and his knuckles whitened. He cut Thom a corner of the eye glance. His twin’s chin dipped in an almost-imperceptible acknowledgment of the information. Su-Lin chose that moment to slide her bare foot up his shin. “Has James said when he’s going to do this?” His twin took up the momentary slack. “I asked him about it, because of what I want to do with the gymnastics, and he said everything was in place.” She sipped her water, and her toes wriggled against the back of his knee. “All I have to do is go to the bank and sign some papers. If he’s recovered when we return to Nice, we’re going to do it before we start the cruise.”

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When her foot reached the top of his thigh, all the blood in his body pooled into his groin. He carved a large square out of the beef and almost missed his mouth the minute her five toes squiggled and curved around his balls. “Do you have your own lawyer, Su-Lin?” Terry shot Thomas a beggar’s plea and dropped his gaze to the table, then looked up again. A slow, wide beam spread across his twin’s mouth, and he mouthed the word “ring.” “Yes. The one who handled my mother’s will, Mr. Finklestein. But he’s retiring. I know he’s sold the practice to a new man. I haven’t met him yet.” Unable to take another second of her sweet torture, Terry slid his hand below the tablecloth, captured the arch of her foot, and slid his thumb over the sweet curve. Fricking hell, she’d reversed strategies on him. “How did your mother die, darlin’?” Her complexion paled; the salad fork clattered onto her plate, and she tried to slide her soft foot out of his grasp. He wouldn’t allow it and rubbed a thumb over her heel. Blinking rapidly, she gave him a little nod, swallowed, and fidgeted with the knife for a few moments. “One of my regular customers at the boutique where I worked was a doctor, and she offered to examine Annika. Dr. Lowel said my mother was clinically depressed and she prescribed drugs, not sleeping pills.” She shot him a narrow-eyed glare. “For a while there, Mom was doing so much better. She’d started to eat on her own and even talked about coming to my graduation.” Terry covered her flexing toes with his palm and gave her a reassuring squeeze. Angry, but needing to give her support, he stroked from heel to toe, a slow, repeated caress. “I went to a gymnastics meet in Springfield, a town about twenty miles away. When I came home, she was cold. I think she died in her sleep, at least I hope so.” “And that’s when you discovered you had an uncle and an aunt?” Thomas asked. “Yes. I was so surprised when Mr. Finklestein’s secretary called me with the news.” She lifted a shoulder, and this time, when her foot slid out of his clasp, he didn’t stop her. “They’ve both been so kind. I was in the middle of finals, and Aunt Emma and Uncle James sorted through Annika’s stuff, organized the realtors, and sold the house.” “Dessert?” Jean-Michel asked as he placed their empty plates in the center of the table. “A cheese plate? Or my Thom’s favorite, chocolate-covered strawberries?” He eyed Su-Lin’s blush and winked. “To go, perhaps?” “Come, darlin’,” Terry said and pulled Su-Lin up. “Chocolate, strawberries, and whipped cream to go. Let’s take dessert to our room.” His little aphrodisiac recovered quickly, he thought, as she pasted a bright smile on her face. “I’ll leave the heater on for the pool. Whipped cream tends to lead to a midnight swim.” Jean-Michel waggled his inky eyebrows, his blue eyes twinkled, and he mugged a leer. “Here. Berries and whipped cream.” His twin’s lover had a tendency to babble when embarrassed, Terry realized. His mouth twitched as he accepted the two dessert bowls. “Where are you putting them, Miche?” Thomas draped an arm around his lover’s shoulder, and he brushed a kiss on the younger man’s temple.

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“Goddess suite, I think. All those mirrors should make things very interesting. And it puts enough space between us. If your brother is half as vocal as you…” Another eyebrow jiggle, and Jean-Michel’s full mouth crooked at one corner. “This way,” Thomas said and swatted Jean-Michel’s tight ass when he wriggled it suggestively. “Follow this impudent fellow.” He pushed Jean-Michel forward. Jean-Michel and Thomas bade them bonne nuit when they arrived at an ivory set of double doors framed by an intricate latticework pattern. Terry guided Su-Lin into the room. “He wasn’t kidding about the mirrors,” Su-Lin said as she turned her face to the mirrored ceiling. “Or the goddesses.” She twirled, spinning on the ball of her foot and pointed to the left. A full-length nude painting of Aphrodite filled the wall in front of her. She reclined, one knee bent, the other leg stretched the length of a chaise longue. A translucent blanket draped across her pelvis almost hid the faint image of an ivory banana-shaped dildo barely discernible beneath the covering. The image reflected in myriad mirrors spaced at strategic angles throughout the cavernous room. “Oh, my,” she said and edged forward, toes curling into the carpet. Terry captured her hand and traced her finger around the curved protuberance. “In ancient Greece, ivory and marble were the choice materials for dildos. And they fashioned them larger than life.” “I can see that. Is there such a thing as too big?” “A woman’s vagina can accommodate any size. Think of where a baby comes from, darlin’.” His arms encircled her waist, and he dragged her sweet rump against his erection and rubbed a `broad circle. “I am so on fire for you, Su-Lin, and that little foot-in-the-crotch massage under the table during dinner has me at the brink. You’re becoming very adventurous.” “I have all these images in my head. Every time I close my eyes, I can see your wondrous weapon, smell you all smoky and spicy, and it makes me so breathless.” “Are you up to this? Tell me the truth.” Shrugging out of the sports coat, he let the garment shuffle to the carpet. Tipping her chin, up, he licked the seam of her mouth. She opened for him, and a hot whisper fanned his lips. His hands raked the hem of her dress and slipped under her low-rise panties. She moaned, “Make love to me, Terrence.” “As if I could resist when I have you to myself for the whole night.” He cupped a rounded rump cheek in each hand and squeezed. “The carry-ons are in the walk-in closet over there.” He angled his chin to the right. “Is that a hint? Do I need a shower?” “I thought you might need the bathroom, wench. That was my attempt at subtlety.” “Oh. Actually, I’d like to wash my face and brush my teeth.” “Go to it,” he said, spinning her about and giving her a light smack on the behind. As soon as the bathroom door closed, he went to work, lowering the lights, lighting every candle in the room, and clearing a space in front of the stone fireplace. Someone had already prepped the inner hearth with kindling and logs, and a couple of flicks of his lighter started a shimmering blaze. He found the remote, searched for a romantic love songs channel, and set the volume to a background hum.

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He heard the click, caught the light streaming onto the carpet, and finished scattering cushions on the blanket he’d lain down. Turning to face her, his lungs stammered to a halt at the sight of her. Standing in the doorway, pink cheeks evidence of a thorough cleaning, hair cloaking her nude body, she looked pure and innocent and shy. An overwhelming longing to simply hold her forced his feet into action, and he had his arms wrapped around her lithe, muscled body in seconds. She lifted her face and he kissed her, a quick peck on the lips. “Do you know how precious you are to me, darlin’?” “I am?” Emerald eyes widened, she cupped his jaw and rubbed her thumb over his lower lip. “I feel as if I’ve known you all my life, like there’s nothing I can’t tell you. You make that little hole in my heart stop aching.” He whispered, “Never doubt you’re safe with me, Su-Lin. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. Never again.” “What’re you saying?” “I want you to be extra careful with your food and drink from now on.” She giggled and cupped a hand over her mouth. “What am I, royalty? Are you to be my royal taste tester?” Not wanting to alarm her, he chuckled. “Something like that.” He nuzzled her nape, suckling her flesh, branding her his. Angling his lips, he pressed his tongue into her mouth. She tasted of rich after-dinner chocolate, and he found a dollop of warm sugar and rested on the spot, eating his way to her lower lip. “You snuck a chocolate, didn’t you, darlin’? I’ve seen your secret chocolate stash on the Glory, that little Belgian selection in the bedside table.” “Uncle James gives me a box once a week.” That took him aback, and he schooled his features into neutrality. “Terrence?” She tickled his chin. “Where are you?” “How many people know you’re a chocoholic, besides me?” “Only you and Uncle James.” She fingered a button on his linen shirt. “Why?” “I want to be the only one giving you presents, darlin’.” “That’s easy, because except for my relatives, you’re the only one who’s given me any presents.” Scooping an arm under her knees, he lifted her high against his chest and strode over to the blanket. Laying her on the soft fleece, he slipped a cushion under her head and sat back on his haunches. “You’re so beautiful, Su-Lin, and you’re mine, all mine.” Propping on one elbow, her mouth curved. “You’re the beautiful one, Terrence O’Connor, and if I’m yours, then you’re mine.” She had no idea of the inherent truth in her words. “Ready for dessert?” “Chocolate?” “Of course, chocolate-dipped strawberries and whipped cream.” He reached behind, picked up the two bowls Jean-Michel had given him earlier, and deposited them on her stomach.

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“Cold,” she squeaked and fell back onto the cushions. “Open,” he said, dipping one berry into the cream. “Bite.” Red juice spurted in a thin line down her chin and settled in her dimple. Terry dipped his head and licked her silken skin clean. “You have on too many clothes,” she whispered and nipped his earlobe. “And you’re not wearing enough,” he said, unable to prevent a broad grin from claiming his lips at her raised eyebrows and widening eyes. Reaching under a cushion to the left, he pulled out a box wrapped in soft white paper. Her lips quivered, and she raised glistening green pools, long black lashes fluttering rapidly. “Another present? Why?” He almost didn’t make out her questions, she spoke so softly. “Because,” he said, lifting a shoulder, the lump forming in his throat making swallowing impossible. “Open it.” Shifting the bowls off her belly, he helped Su-Lin into a sitting position. “It’s origami,” she stated, tracing the outlines of a multipetaled crimson rose. “It’s almost too lovely to open.” “I had a hunch you’d want to keep it. Turn the box over. There’s one small piece of Scotch tape right there.” He touched the spot. “Take that off, and the whole thing falls off.” Agonizing minutes passed; Su-Lin removed the paper, smoothed a few slight crinkles caused when she slipped the box from the delicate wrapping. She peeped up at him, dazzling lawn irises brimming, and used one finger to lift the lid. “It’s beautiful.” A lone tear crept down her cheek. “I don’t have anything for you.” “You gave me the greatest gift of all two days ago, darlin’.” Knuckling the curve of her neck, he asked, “Shall I put it on?” “Please.” She lifted her right hand. The delicate clasp of the emerald bracelet almost defeated him, but he finally snapped it shut and clicked the safety catch in place. Angling her wrist left and right, she said, “Look how it catches the light from the fire.” She threw her arms around his neck and sprinkled closemouthed kisses on every inch of his face. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll never take it off.” If only that were true, he thought, and wondered if she’d throw the gifts at him when she found out about Carol-Ann.

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Chapter Fourteen  They arrived in Nice before noon on one of the most surreal Mediterranean days. The sky so blue, so clear, the sea so turquoise, it made her chest ache, and Su-Lin surrendered to temptation and pinched her forearm, hard. She couldn’t stop her mouth from spreading into a foolish grin. Only being cooped up in a car prevented her from doing cartwheels until her lungs gave out. “Penny for them,” Terry said and flashed her one of his wicked smiles. “I was thinking about last night.” He pulled into a parking spot and pulled the hand brake. “Any soreness?” She sighed and shot him a sideways glance. “None. I can’t imagine anything more incredible,” she whispered, ducking her head. “I love the way you feel inside of me. It’s magical. It scares me.” He flicked the keys out of the ignition and flipped both armrests up. Before she knew it, he had her in his lap. “Why?” Two fingers raised her chin. She loved looking into his storm-cloud eyes, trying to learn him inside out. “The Chinese believe for every good there is a corresponding evil. Right now I’m so filled with joy I know a black cloud somewhere has my name on it.” Rubbing her lower lip with his thumb, he met her eyes and stated, “You do know you can rely on me, Su-Lin, that I’ll protect you at all costs.” He’d said almost the exact same words to her last night, in the same growled tone. A quick search of his features revealed the fine lines bracketing his lips, and the fierce slant of his pale eyebrows. Her acknowledgment seemed crucial, so she nodded. “I know.” Stroking away the creases on his forehead, she laid her palm against her breast and continued, “Here.”

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Cupping his hand around her cheek, he brushed his lips across hers, his eyes wide open and so intent, his irises turned to the darkest charcoal. “What’s wrong?” she whispered, smelling the cinnamon in the cappuccino they’d shared on the journey. He kissed the tip of her nose, and his warm breath heated her cheeks. “My past isn’t pretty, Su-Lin. There’s a lot you don’t know.” “Stop.” Her fingers halted his words. “Khalil Gibran wrote, ‘Pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.’ I believe to be good you have to have been bad. To understand you must feel pain. Yin and yang, Terrence, that’s what we are. Your past made you the wonderful man you are today. That’s all that matters.” Their gazes locked and held for what seemed an eternity. Her heart ached at the poignancy of it all, him, her, these precious minutes. A motor scooter rumbled next to the parked SUV. It belched an explosive backfire, and the sound shattered the magic of the moment. Terry’s biceps bunched under her fingers, and without thinking, she kneaded the tight muscles. “Your uncle’s probably been released already, but we’re so close we may as well pay the hospital a visit.” He shifted her into the passenger seat. “Thom and Jean-Michel will meet us there.” “Okay,” she agreed and swiped her front-style purse off the floor. By the time she’d looped it around her neck, Terry had opened the door for her, an old-fashioned gesture he insisted on. His hand more than doubled hers in size, and over the last couple of days, holding hands had morphed into her holding his middle finger. After last night, and this morning, she’d begun to realize all of Terrence’s fingers brought pleasure, even his pinky. The short walk took them past the flower market. A glorious kaleidoscope of color and aromas, lavender, citrus, jasmine, purple, fuchsia, wild orange, morphed reality into her own private fairy tale. Su-Lin laughed aloud; she skipped and dragged Terry over to a small ikebana arrangement. His stubbornness set her teeth on edge when he refused to let her buy it. But somewhere deep inside, joy blossomed, and the sun’s blinding blaze couldn’t match the heat warming her insides. When they arrived at the hospital, the thought of her relatives dimmed her euphoria, and she sobered. Uncle James had already left the small clinic, according to the receptionist. Terry asked to speak to the doctor as Thomas and Jean-Michel entered the lobby. Su-Lin turned to greet them. “Hi, see my bouquet?” She held up the white and green arrangement. “It’s jasmine, with fern fronds.” “Ikebana,” said Thomas. “You know the art?” Then she hoped her surprise hadn’t insulted him. “Know it,” Jean-Michel answered. “Thom is an expert, one of the top masters in the world.” “Oh.” She smelled Terry before he spoke, musky aftershave, orange and cinnamon, and a hint of cigar. The familiar aroma evoked a deep sigh, and his scent cocooned her, like a child’s favorite blanket.

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“James was released this morning. Clean bill of health. Shall we?” He angled his head to the door and turned her in that direction. As soon as they stood in the warm sun, she recognized their location. Su-Lin looked at Thomas. “You should show Jean-Michel the shop where you bought the map. It’s near here, isn’t it?” “Do we have time?” Thomas lifted an eyebrow and addressed his brother. “I know Miche would love to explore the shop.” “Harry’s meeting us at the docks at noon.” Thomas checked his new watch. “We have an hour and a half to kill. I’ll have to drag you out of the bookstore, Miche.” “What’s that little secret smile for?” Terry knuckled her cheek as they wandered about the antique bookshop while Jean-Michel, Thomas, and the proprietor discussed various selections at the farthest end of the room. “They’re so in love, aren’t they?” She inclined her head at his twin and Jean-Michel. “I love the way he calls him Miche when he’s not guarding his feelings. How will your father react?” “It won’t be pleasant.” Terry rubbed a thumb across her lower lip. “Darlin’, let’s grab a cup of coffee. You and I need some alone time. Thom and Miche can meet up with us when they’re finished.” “Are you upset about Thomas’s nickname for Jean-Michel?” He didn’t look annoyed, more puzzled than angry, and his frequent glances at his brother had her thumbs itching to massage away the lines on his forehead. “No. I need a little time and space to adjust. Funny thing, though. I agree with you. They are in love.” He said the words in an offhand manner, as if his thoughts centered on more important issues. Clutching his middle finger, she pulled him into the far corner of the musty-smelling room. “We’re going for a cappuccino. The café we had lunch at’s near here, isn’t it?” Quirking one eyebrow, Thomas replied, “Out the entrance, one block to the right.” Su-Lin picked the same absinthe umbrella table to sit at. “This is where we had lunch, Thomas and I.” She pointed to the canvas. “I saw the words on the umbrella and asked him about absinthe. I need to tell you, I really wanted to try it, because he said it was an aphrodisiac. I wanted to see if I would feel any differently, but I don’t remember tasting it.” “It’s a very distinctive taste. Let me order one. Taste it and see if it triggers any memories.” “Will I hallucinate? Or become drunk?” A chuckle erupted from his full lips. “That’s precisely what I love about you, darlin’, you’re so fricking innocent. I’ll order a shot, and you’ll take a teeny, weensy sip. I promise your mind will be as clear and sober as it is right this moment.” Clear? Sober? That’s precisely what I love about you; the words rang again and again in her brain. Afraid all the hope in her heart showed on her face, she ducked her chin and traced a square on the red and white checkered tablecloth.

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“I see you two haven’t ordered yet.” Blinking, Su-Lin managed a weak smile at a laughing Jean-Michel, carrying a white cylinder in one hand, standing behind Terry’s chair. He winked at Su-Lin and tapped the tube on his thigh in a one, two, one, two, three rhythm. Thomas, bearing a similar tube, planted his solid form on the right. “Should we grab a bite before heading to the Glory?” “I’m not sure if the new chef arrived. I haven’t heard from Harry. Maybe we should order a couple of aperitifs,” Terry mused. “Darlin’?” Shrugging, she answered, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’m not really hungry, but I’ll nibble on something.” The three men entered into a heated discussion about appetizers, and she zoned out. The noonday’s brilliance made Su-Lin’s growing fears about her mental health appear petty and incongruous. She wanted to believe someone had drugged her, but the notion was laughable. She was too insignificant, too ordinary. Only her gymnastic talents separated her from the masses. Terry’s forefinger tilted her chin to him. “Come back to me.” Startled, her eyes widened when he took off her sunglasses. “That’s better. What’s wrong? You look upset.” “Sorry, just thinking.” “Not happy thoughts, obviously.” “Where did Thomas and Miche go?” “Inside. Miche knows the chef, and he decided to speak with him before we order anything.” “He seems to know everybody, doesn’t he?” she said. “What happens when you go to New York for Thomas’s operation?” “You come with me, of course,” he growled. “Is that what you’re worrying about? Damn it, I want to haul you into my lap and kiss you silly. Kiss you and make love to you until you know you’re part of me, and that’s just how it is.” “Oh,” she whispered. “What a pretty bauble,” Jean-Michel commented as he materialized in front of them. “You have good taste, Terrence.” “Don’t do that again,” she ordered, holding a hand to her chest. “You scared the daylights out of me. But it is beautiful, isn’t it?” Su-Lin lifted her wrist to the sun’s rays and let the bracelet flirt and wink like a lush green mountainside washed by raindrops. She touched one ear. “It matches my earrings.” “I see that, chérie. Trés jolie.” “The food’s on the way.” Thomas separated cutlery from napkin as he sat down. “No nitrates, no nuts, all vegetarian.” “Ici, l’absinthe.” Jean-Michel plonked a small, balloon-shaped bottle on the table along with a slotted, pie-shaped spoon and a glass with a bulge at the bottom. Deft fingers uncorked the green liquid in the crystal container; he poured the thick substance into the glass, filling the bulge, and with a graceful flourish, Miche placed the sterling spoon over the mouth of the glass.

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“Here,” he said, pushing the tumbler in her direction. “Traditionally, you put a cube of sugar in the liquid. Add water in about a three-to-one ratio, stir, and drink.” She followed his directions, removing the spoon first. Waving one hand over the glass, she said, “It smells like licorice.” “Fennel and star anise, which are reminiscent of licorice,” Thomas explained. “A lot of people don’t like it, me included. Take a small sip, honey, and don’t be afraid to spit it out.” “Yuck,” she blurted, wiping the back of her hand over her mouth. “There’s no way I would drink this voluntarily. It’s horrible.” She glanced at Terry. “Curiosity is my curse, I know, but I’d never drink more than a sip of this. It’s awful.” Reaching over, he cradled her head in one hand and kissed the stuffing out of her before whispering, “You’re unabashedly curious, darlin’. It’s one of your characteristics I love the most, especially under the sheets.” He waggled an eyebrow, and Su-Lin laughed aloud. Joy made her heart soar and her pulse gallop simply because he loved something about her. Since the umbrella provided shade from the sun, she put her sunglasses into their pouch. “We’ve got an audience,” he stated. “Those perchance aren’t the Gypsies who relieved Thom of his Rolex?” As he spoke, he crossed his eyes left. She followed his gaze and that black cloud she’d been expecting sucked all the oxygen out of the wide-open courtyard. “That’s the girl,” Su-Lin said as she twisted around to stare at the ebony-haired Adria. She leaped out of the seat. Terry’s hand circled her wrist, and he shook his head. “Stay put.” “I need to talk to her, to see if I can find out where she lives.” She jiggled her arm. “You can speak their language. Help me talk to her. Thomas,” she wailed and stamped her foot. “She’s getting away. I can’t spot her anymore. Can you?” Thomas shaded his eyes. “She’s gone, Su-Lin.” Disappointment slumped her shoulders, and she pouted. A breeze rustled through the avenue, tickling leaves into little whirlpools, lifting her long locks, and cooling her heated skin. She knew Adria’s fate entwined hers, knew it with certainty. How to convince Terrence and the others? Right at the top of her jaw-clenching frustration, Thomas spoke. “If Adria’s here, then Casmir can’t be too far away.” He clamped one hand over his new watch and pursed his mouth. “Maybe I should pop this into a safe deposit box.” “Leave it in the Glory’s safe,” Terry suggested. Jean-Michel’s eyebrows arched. He looked at each of them in turn, spending long seconds studying their features. He cast Su-Lin a speculative glance and then shot Thomas an amused one. “There can’t be two Adrias in Nice. Little ragamuffin of a girl, black cloud of hair, on the mud-streaked side?” “Yes,” she replied and had to sit when her knees gave way, her heart beating a single drum in ringing ears, fate, fate, fate. “How do you know her?” “There’s a Gypsy colony at the edge of our estate. Most of the villagers are metal artists, and all of the families sell their artifacts in the perfume museum’s gift shop.” Jean slid his chair

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next to hers. “Casmir and his group are nomads, but they winter in the camp. More curious, though, how do you know the urchins?” “They’re the ones who stole Thom’s watch,” Terry replied. “Specifically, the girl.” “You said you misplaced it, mon amour.” “He’s embarrassed. There was a time when he taught the Gypsies on our land how to steal.” Terry shook his head. “Of course, I was the one blamed when things disappeared from the house.” “Quite the coincidence running into Adria again,” Thomas mused. Su-Lin told Miche about her idea for a gymnastic literacy camp. “You may have something there,” he said and tapped his dimpled chin with a forefinger. “Maybe a combination of dance and gymnastics would lure the younger children into participating. There’s a barn not far from the Roma’s camp. With a little money, we could remodel it, fix the leaking roof.” “Really?” She patted a hand on her chest, as if the gesture could slow the blood chasing through her veins. “I think this is my fate, Miche, to teach the Gypsy children. This is so exciting. I really need to speak to Uncle James about my trust fund. Isn’t this just so absolutely perfect?” “Gypsies are always more trouble than they’re worth. It’s almost noon. We need to head out -- Harry will be waiting.” Terry stood and kneaded the small of his back. Trying to hide her abject dejection at his absolute discounting of her idea, Su-Lin forced her legs into a standing position. He made her crazy. Desperation warred with self-preservation, but she managed to clamp her lips together and not say, Why can’t you support my dream? High-noon sunshine heated the cobblestones. The only relief from the burning canary bowl in the middle of an azure sky found in the scarce shadows darkening tapered alleyways. Su-Lin’s legs pumped faster as she contemplated the Gypsy girl, Adria, Jean-Michel’s offer of a building, and moving in with Terry. “Where’re you sprinting to, darlin’?” He imprisoned her hand in his large one and twined their fingers together. “Where’s your house? Where will we live?” He cupped her shoulders and turned her around. “Over there is Château Hill.” He pointed to rolling hills. “Directly north, the city tapers out, and the landscape’s more rural. I bought a farmhouse a couple of years ago. It needs work, I’ll warn you. But the condo in Monaco is in top shape. We could move in tomorrow.” When they swung back in the direction of the docks, Terry linked their fingers again and kissed the back of her hand. “Are you getting accustomed to the idea of us waking up together every day? Of us cooking dinners, taking long walks?” “Yes yes yes,” she said and did a little skip. “I will have to tell Uncle James and Aunt Emma soon.” “I know, and we’ll start making plans tonight, I promise. Did you put all your belongings into storage? After you sold the house?” “Belongings?” She shook her head. “We sold everything except for things like pictures and knickknacks, and my dad’s collection of antique books. My next-door neighbor’s keeping my boxes in her garage.”

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“What about the money from the sale of the house?” “Uncle James put it into a CD.” She loped along, doing an extra step to every one of his. “The CD’s in both our names.” A sudden suspicion niggled at the corners of her mind. “He couldn’t prevent me from transferring the money here, could he?” “When we get back to the Glory, give me all of your banking information. Financial law is Thom’s specialty. I’ll get him to call your US bank, and we’ll transfer the funds to Nice, to a bank account in your name only.” He halted abruptly and cradled her jaw with one cupped palm. “But don’t breathe a word to your relatives. Let’s assess the situation first. Agreed?” She nodded. “I have my own money for this trip. And I have a couple of credit cards.” “Darlin’, I’m a wealthy man. Money is not going to be an issue for you, no matter what happens.” “I don’t want your money, Terrence. I want to earn my own, be in charge of my destiny.” “I hear you. We’ll work things out. We have all the time in the world.” Do we? She searched his features, hoping for a hint of permanence, a hint of love. A ship’s horn blasted the air, and Su-Lin jumped, both feet leaving the ground at once. “You’re on edge.” “I haven’t done my routine in days. It calms my mind.” Only as she uttered the words did Su-Lin realize how much she missed the physical activity. “Yo, Terry.” The shout came from Harrison, who stood behind the helm of the Boston Whaler. A flamehaired woman who reached his chin and infringed on his personal space seemed to be rubbing against him. “Frick,” Terry growled. “You are about to meet my stepmother.” A sudden unease bunched her shoulder blades. She craned her neck and twisted to get a better view of the woman. Terry pulled her around to face him, but she persisted in glancing over her shoulder. “Su-Lin,” he said, his voice sharp, and cupped her chin so she had to meet his gaze. “Listen to me. Carol-Ann is a vicious bitch. She and I have no love for each other. You need to know what she accused me of.” Su-Lin noticed the slight hesitation in his voice, the way he averted his eyes, before he continued. “Theft, before I left home at sixteen.” “That’s horrible,” Su-Lin blurted, and rage made her scowl. “You were just a boy.” “You also need to know, she’s been having an affair with Harrison, and that’s why she’s sued my father for divorce.” He blinked, and his eyes left hers. Her mouth dropped open, and she searched for words, any words. Crossing her fingers and praying she’d heard wrong, she asked, “Harrison slept with your stepmother?” Without lowering his gaze, he replied, “Yes.” She clutched his forearm, apprehensive because he wouldn’t meet her eyes head-on. “That’s even worse than what your stepmother accused you of. How could Harrison do that to you?”

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“He didn’t know, darlin’. And he’s fricking pissed, and so am I.” Their glances locked, his jaw worked, cheeks hollowing out. “She’s going to try and break us apart. Just hang strong. Avoid being alone with her. And don’t believe a word from her mouth.” Loosening his tight grip on her shoulders, he dragged both hands through his hair and added, “Can you do that for me?” She loathed Carol-Ann on the spot and spun around to get a better view of her new enemy. Terry stalked forward, his stride lengthening, and Su-Lin skipped to reach his side. A quick look upward showed his unblinking focus, Harrison, and the evil stepmother. As they neared the boat, she sucked in her stomach and straightened her spine. The woman proved the epitome of every Dallas Cowboys cheerleader she’d ever loved to hate. Legs to the neck, Playboy centerfold figure, green eyes, and wavy auburn hair. Su-Lin’s fingernails bit into her palms. When they stood inches away from the rolling vessel, Harrison scooted away from CarolAnn and held out a hand to help Su-Lin onto the boat. “Sugar, you’re looking fine.” His natural, slow twang had sped up, and she wanted to scratch the bitch’s eyes out. One hand curled into a tight fist, she clutched Harrison’s hand with the other and stepped onto the boat. Harrison didn’t let go of her hand once she stood safely on board; instead, he intertwined their fingers. She craned her neck to look at him. He cupped one shoulder. “Shake hands with Carol-Ann Gore, sugar.” He flicked a wrist at the woman. “Carol-Ann, my fiancée, Su-Lin Taylor.” His arms encircled her waist, yanking their bodies together. The second Harrison uttered the word “fiancée,” Terrence jumped down beside them, and the boat rocked. Su-Lin’s jaw dropped. Terry moved between them and Carol-Ann, his fists clamped onto lean hips, and he stared Harrison down. She glanced from one to the other and couldn’t read who won what. Deciding to let Terry handle the situation, she pressed her lips together and waited. But Terrence moved aside, although from the tight set of his mouth and his slashed eyebrows, he didn’t like it one iota. His gaze swept to Carol-Ann. “Hi, son,” she drawled. “Long time no see.” And that Texan, down-home, aw-shucks, beauty-queen, throaty voice fired a temper SuLin didn’t know existed. Every muscle in her body contracted and twitched, and her spine morphed into a steel rod. “Not long enough for me,” Terry said. “Carol-Ann, it’s definitely not a pleasure to see you again.” Thomas hopped onto the boat, followed by Jean-Michel. Lips curling into a tight sneer, he launched an attack. “What in bleeding hell do you think to gain from torturing us with your presence? Not even Father wants you anymore. Take the hint and leave.” Jean-Michel sidled closer to Thomas, and he leaned on the ship’s steel railing, hips braced next to his lover.

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Carol-Ann surveyed both men. “The fruit’s out of the cake, I see. Nigel will disown you on the spot. Aren’t family reunions touching? Two ex-lovers, one homo stepson, his slutty queen, and a half-breed from the sticks. I can’t wait for dinner to be served.” “This is what no class looks like,” Thomas stated and flipped his hand up and down in Carol-Ann’s direction. “I’ll take us back. Harry, get the ropes.” Terrence thumbed the ignition switch, and the engines roared into life slicing away any chance of conversation. The perfect day took on a dual-universe sense of reality. Su-Lin concentrated on tensing and relaxing her neck muscles and breathing in and out to the count of four. Halfway there, the bristling wind whipped free her ponytailed hair, licking it onto her bare shoulders, and it stung her cheeks. She gathered the locks into one curled hand. Everyone faced straight ahead. Eyes crossed to the right, Su-Lin studied Carol-Ann Gore. Yin and yang, she thought, and knew in that instant this woman represented the opposite of joy and would be the source of disharmony in her corner of the universe. None too soon, the journey ended. They exited the Whaler in complete silence. “Harry, Thomas, Miche, the library, pronto,” Terry ordered the minute their feet hit the deck. He hooked a thumb over his shoulder and shot Su-Lin a stay-put look. “If you think you’re leaving me with her,” Su-Lin said, her voice low but clear, “you’d better think again.” “Let her come, Ter.” Thomas grasped his twin’s shoulder and shook it. Terry threw his hands up in the air. He gritted, “I don’t need another fricking fire to put out, boyo.” That did it. She pushed between the two men, tiptoed, and jabbed a finger into Terry’s chest. “Now I’m a fire to be put out? Is this what our future’s like? Me not being part of your life?” He grabbed her stabbing forefinger. “Fricking -- have it your way, darlin’.” After he dropped her hand, he spun around and stomped, literally stomped, away. “Give him a little slack, sugar,” Harrison said; he patted the small of her back. “It ain’t exactly a piece of cake having a stepmother who seduces her son’s best friend for roadkill spite.” A firm pressure on her back, he guided her forward. “You think she did it just for that?” Such malice boggled Su-Lin’s mind. “I know it. First thing the bitch boasted about once she set foot on the Glory.” Harrison shuddered. “I haven’t upchucked in decades, but I’ve lost my grub twice in one week.” An image of his green face at the bottle restaurant popped into her head. “You found out the night of the dinner with Suresh.” “Ping.” Harrison touched a finger to his head. Su-Lin remembered Terrence’s strange mood that night, and her hands flexed when she realized that even then he’d excluded her from his life. Would she have to battle for information every step of the way? Her temples throbbed, and she knuckled them, not even knowing when they entered the yacht’s library.

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As soon as the study door shut, Terry rounded on Harrison. “What in fricking hell are you pulling? Telling the bitch you’re marrying Su-Lin? Do you know what will happen when her fricking uncle finds out?” “That bitch almost raped me,” Harrison roared back. “She had her freaking hands down my pants, her mouth on my dick. What the hell else was I supposed to do?” “Shut up, both of you.” Thomas stepped between both shouting men and pushed them apart. “Sit. Now.” “Su-Lin, you sit too.” His tone gentled, and she knew right away something catastrophic loomed. “Ter, we have to speak with Papa. Then you can tell her all the details.” “Tell me what?” she asked and surveyed each man’s expression. Grim didn’t begin to describe their compressed lips, the way they avoided her gaze. The pressure in the small cabin could have popped stuffed eardrums. She waited, staring at Terry, her breath halting when he averted his head. His chest rose and fell. When he looked at her, the sadness in his eyes scared her so much she had to resist leaping off the sofa and fleeing the room. “Thomas is right. I have to speak with my father. Will you wait here for me?” What choice did she have?

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Chapter Fifteen  Terry and Thomas found their father on the second deck sitting in an oversize wicker chair, an open hardcover book on his lap, and a small tumbler containing one ice cube and a neat shot of whiskey in one hand. Glancing up at his two sons, Nigel Gore’s chest rose and fell in an exaggerated inhale. He blew out an audible breath and waved a hand at two chairs opposite his. “I’ve been waiting for this.” The twins exchanged startled glances. Both men sat. Terry, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, thumbs twiddling on his thighs; Thomas, elbows leaning on his knees, a forefinger rubbing his chin. Without preamble, he announced, “Three weeks ago, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor.” Hearing his brother’s bald words made Terry’s stomach curdle; he straightened. “I know,” Nigel said. Thomas bounded to his feet. “How?” “Your physician’s father is my regular bridge partner. He thought I should know.” Nigel shrugged. “Old boy network and all that. Why did you wait so long to tell me?” Pacing a small circle, kneading the back of his neck, Thomas halted and replied, “I had some decisions to make. There’s no easy way of saying this, Papa, so here it is. I’m gay, I’m in love with Jean-Michel, and I want to marry him.” “I see,” Nigel said in an even voice. He steepled his fingers and rested his goateed chin on two forefingers. “Am I invited to the ceremony?” “What?” Terry shot out of the chair. “You…you’re accepting all this?” “Don’t you have something to tell me too, son?” “Yes, no,” Terry muttered. “You old sod, you know already, don’t you? How long have you known?” “Carol-Ann gave me one of your letters before she filed for divorce.” “Jaysus.” He slumped back into the chair.

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“How many did you write?” He swallowed a couple of times before replying, “Two.” “The one I read proclaimed your love. I’m presuming the other is more substantive?” Terry squeezed his eyes shut and tried to forget the words he’d written. “Yes.” “How long have you known about me?” Thomas’s eyebrows hadn’t climbed back down from his hairline. “I’ve been in denial for a very long time. I’m an old man facing my final years, and I’ve made a muck of things. Over the last six months, I’ve had to do a lot of what your generation calls soul searching. I find I much prefer to have a gay, healthy, happy son than a dead one.” “And me?” “What happened between you and Carol-Ann weighs heavily on my conscience, Terrence. I should never have married her, and I regretted it almost from the moment I brought her home.” Nigel took a sip of his drink. “I couldn’t face being on Arran, seeing her there in your mother’s place. I’ve abdicated my responsibility for too many years.” “I won’t be giving you an heir, Papa.” “I know, son. That’s why you wanted me to work with you on the inheritance amendment, isn’t it? So your brother can assume the title?” “You have to initiate the proceedings.” “I know, but before that, your brother needs to agree to everything.” “Jaysus,” Terry mumbled, cradling his face in his hands. “Ter, it’s up to you now.” Thomas cupped his shoulder. “Will you do it?” “What about Carol-Ann?” “Leave my wife to me, Terrence. I didn’t survive forty years in politics without learning a few tricks.” There spoke the earl he knew. The ruthless, determined man who backed down from no enemy. Terry couldn’t prevent a sudden surge of admiration tempered by a need to wound. Wound mortally. “So, we’re one happy family now?” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. “More than a decade of hell and hatred, and now we embrace?” “You know better than that, Terrence. I don’t imagine it will be easy for any of us. Too many words that should never have been uttered lie between the three of us. I suggest we take life in small doses.” Nigel set down his drink and book. “It’s been a very long day. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll retire to my cabin now.” Both men watched him leave in silence. “What the fricking hell just happened?” Thomas shook his head. “Something’s not right. He wasn’t surprised by anything. Not even Jean-Michel. He couldn’t have known. Damn, I didn’t know until Miche forced the issue a few months ago.” “You two haven’t been a long-term thing?” “He’s almost eight years younger than I am, Ter. When he was seventeen, he told me he was in love with me. I ran for the hills. Spent a few years exploring the alternate side of this life,

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the baths, experimented with BDSM, and much more. I found out I’m not cut out for that kind of lifestyle. I want -- I need -- stability, commitment.” Twin circles stained his cheeks a ruddy color. “As of two days ago, only Miche’s family knew about us.” “They approve?” “As hard as this is to believe, yes. They want the best for him. Wait until you meet his mother and you’ll understand. She’s an amazing woman.” “We should head back,” Terry said, rising to his feet. “Right.” Strolling down the corridor, he asked, “When did you start calling him Papa again?” “I never stopped.” Thomas shot him a wry smile. “We didn’t have the contentious relationship you two had, always butting heads, too alike to live together under the same roof.” They reached the study door. “I’m not going to tell her about Carol-Ann yet. She’ll have enough to deal with when we tell her about the relatives.” “Your call, brother.” Taking a deep inhale, Terry twisted the brass knob and pushed the door open to find Harry and Su-Lin sitting in the half dark, each nursing a drink. Behind him, Thomas shut the door and dropped into the lone armchair in the room. “Where’s Miche?” “Ici, mon amour.” Jean’s fingers tapped over a keyboard and the sound of rhythmic clicks punctuated the silence. “Sending Maman an e-mail about the barn. Su-Lin and I used the time to cost out the repairs.” Terry sat on the love seat, dragged Su-Lin close, and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Any calls?” “Geoff, nothing further,” Harrison replied. “What do you have to tell me?” Her features tight, mouth pinched together, her shoulders felt rigid under his touch. Absently, he kneaded the back of her neck. “It’s not good news. A few days ago, I asked Geoff to do a background check on your relatives.” Terry moved to kneel in front of her. He captured both her hands and fastened their gazes. “Your mother did not have a brother. There is a real James and Emma Lockheed living in Hong Kong, but their photographs don’t match the two people who are on the Glory.” For long seconds, she stared into his eyes. “I’m going to be sick to my stomach.” She jumped to her feet and her glance darted around the room. “Head’s through there, darlin’,” Terry said and waved a hand behind her. She whirled around and made it just in time. Through the open door, he watched her washing out her mouth. Su-Lin stumbled out of the bathroom. Terry scooped her up before she could take more than two steps. Eyes bolted to hers, he handed her a glass filled with amber liquid. “Drink all of it. You’re in shock.” She glugged every drop and then coughed until her eyes teared. “Breathe, Su-Lin, breathe. Nice, easy breaths,” Terry said and rubbed her back.

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“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Why would they pretend to be my aunt and uncle?” She fanned her cheeks as the alcohol peppered beads of perspiration near her mouth. “We don’t have all the answers, but here’s what we do know.” During his explanation, she listened, her complexion paling and coloring alternately. Only when Terry winced and unclamped her fingers from their death grip on his hand did she react. “Why didn’t my mother tell me about the money?” She opened her hands and touched the sides of her head. “How could she even afford these bonds? I don’t ever remember us being rich.” “It’ll take time, but we’ll sort everything out, get you some answers,” he promised. “Geoff works with MI5. He’s got people working on it in New York, London, and here.” “And my mother in Columbus without me knowing?” She squeezed her eyes shut and then her lids flew open. She snapped her fingers. “The gym meet in Springfield. Mom had been doing so well on the medication. I only went because I thought she could handle it. She’d cooked dinner for a whole month, had gone grocery shopping with me. I asked my neighbor to keep an eye on her. And when I got home, she was dead.” “Don’t guilt yourself up, sugar.” Harrison’s thumb stroked her fingers. “There’s no freaking way anyone could have suspected this crap.” “He’s right, darlin’,” Terry said and shifted her out of Harrison’s range. “Don’t play the what-if game. No one wins that one, trust me.” “What am I going to do?” Su-Lin traced his collarbone. “First thing we’re going to do is to determine if your mother died a natural death.” Terry gave in to temptation and wound a strand of Su-Lin’s hair around his finger. She sighed and snuggled into his chest. “Geoff’s obtaining a warrant to exhume her body. Can you remember the date you went to Springfield?” She told him, and he punched in a text message on his cell. Hurdles remained, but her quick recovery after vomiting relieved most of his apprehension. Terry’s gut clenched, and he skidded away from even contemplating Su-Lin’s reaction to the truth about him and Carol-Ann. For a few hitched-breath seconds, he considered slipping and sliding around an easy lie of omission. If they married… His mind danced around the notion. If they married in Ireland… He let the notion percolate. The proverbial lightbulb decided in favor of a lie of omission. Divorce in Ireland would be a virtual impossibility if he played his cards right. A self-satisfied smile lifted the corners of his mouth. She pushed off his pectorals. “Uncle James insisted on cremation.” Her lips turned down. “I still can’t grasp this. Nothing makes any sense.” “Sugar, even a big-ass cowboy Rhodes scholar like moi…” Harrison jabbed a finger in the direction of his chest. “Couldn’t have figured this convoluted plot out.” Su-Lin’s sassy little ass polished Terry’s groin, and he shifted so his cock could enjoy the delectable sensation, her pussy riding his needy prick. From worried to hornier than a ram sniffing a female in heat in less than three seconds. He shook his head. “You mentioned you hadn’t met the new lawyer, the one who was taking Mr. Finklestein’s place. Can you remember his name?” Thomas asked.

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“No, but I can phone Mr. Finklestein and find out. You think he’s the one who’s pretending to be my uncle?” She adjusted on his lap, sitting up, and curled one hand on the ridge of his shoulder. Her finger fluttered the side of his neck, and he stifled an ecstatic groan. A quick, strategic revision hit his head. End the interrogation. Get his mouth on her pussy, pronto. He could almost smell her, taste the sweet honey between her thighs. “It makes sense. As your mother’s attorney, Finklestein must have known about the bonds. With the time difference, he should still be in the office. Do you have the number on you?” “Yes, it’s in my purse.” She twisted around, recovered a rectangular black leather purse, and rummaged through it. “Here it is.” She held up a plain white business card. “Why don’t you make the call, Thom, lawyer to lawyer?” he asked his twin. “Will do.” “Darlin’, look at me.” Terry cupped Su-Lin’s jaw. “I didn’t want to tell you, because you don’t hide your feelings well. We can’t let them know we’re on to them, understand? If they killed your mother, you’re in danger.” Her jaw dropped open. “Things like this don’t happen to ordinary people like me. I feel like I’m in a nightmare. You really think they could’ve killed my mother?” “You’ve got to put it out of your mind. They can’t suspect a thing. Understand?” For a few seconds, Su-Lin’s features crumpled. Terry braced himself for waterworks, but she shook her head. Ponytail whipping her shoulders, she clamped her jaw together with an audible snap. “I fooled the whole town for ten years, Terrence. No one knew of my situation at home. You don’t have to worry. They won’t suspect a thing.” Su-Lin gritted her teeth. “Ooh, I’m getting so angry.” She banged a fist on a nearby side table. “I’m tired of people trying to tell me what to do, how to live my life. That money’s mine, and with it, I can be completely independent. Will you help me get it back?” Her words clanged alarm bells. Terry didn’t want her too independent. “We all will, sugar,” Harrison answered. Dimming light set the sensors off, and Terry glanced at the porthole. Dusk; that meant dinner loomed. He dreaded the meal tonight. Being in the same room as Carol-Ann would test his stomach’s resilience. “Anyone seen hide or hair of Austen?” Terry shot Harry a glance. “Been on a bender since we left. I threw him in the shower a while back. He should be sobering up.” Fricking great. Carol-Ann spouting innuendos, Austen skunk drunk, Su-Lin’s scum-of-theearth relatives plotting murder. Terry couldn’t stifle his groan. “I just figured it out,” Thomas said, sitting up straight in the armchair. Jean-Michel ambled to it and sat on the padded leather arm, one hand cupping Thomas’s shoulder. “What did you figure out?” “Papa and her uncle. Your uncle lives in Hong Kong, Papa’s there often on business.” “Uncle, I mean that man, said they were business colleagues.”

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“Darlin’, keep calling him uncle. He’ll notice immediately if you stop,” Terry said, burying his nose in her hair and taking some comfort from the familiar lemon scent. But the world and facts intruded on his moment of peace. “After Papa told me he’d join me on the Glory, he requested we arrive in Nice to attend that cocktail reception in Antibes where we first met.” “And this is important because?” “I’m not sure,” Thomas answered. “Save that attending the reception was important to him.” “I say we ask him why directly. Right now.” “It can wait until morning. Sleep on the situation. You won’t keep a rein on your temper if you confront him now.” “Thomas is right,” Su-Lin mumbled. “Your left eye’s jumping.” “Wiser heads and all that, Terry. Sleeping dogs, you know, yada, yada.” Harry waved a hand in their general direction. “I keep going back to Su-Lin’s drugging in Grasse,” Terry muttered. “I confirmed at the hospital this morning that both James and Emma spent the entire night there. The night nurse had to give him a dose of medication around eleven. If they didn’t drug her, then who did?” “Did you find out anything about the basket, or the chocolates, or the absinthe?” Thomas asked. “Absinthe?” Jean-Michel. “Mon dieu, I knew I’d forgotten something. The Gypsies on our estate brew a private brand we sell at the museum. Can either of you remember the label on the bottle?” “I do. Jinava. To know.” “Ours, Terry,” Jean-Michel stated. “Helluva freaking coincidence,” Harry drawled. “There ain’t no straight line to connect all these dots. These are the Gypsies you want to save, sugar?” “Yes. I refuse to believe that little girl would harm me.” Miche pursed his lips and said, “There are only two ways to buy Jinava. From our museum or directly from the Gypsy camp.” “Jaysus. I’m sick of this.” “We’re spinning tops in mud,” Thomas declared, cricking his neck left and right. “Let’s give this a rest and see what Geoff comes up with. Maybe he’ll have news after dinner.” Terry rolled his eyes. “I hope our new chef is creative. What’s she like, Harry?” “Dunno. She didn’t show. Are you sure she was supposed to be on that flight?” “Fricking Murphy’s law. What in hell are we supposed to do for food tonight? And yes, I’m fricking positive about the flight.” “Austen found a caterer in Nice. He arranged for them to take care of tonight’s meal.” “What time is dinner, Harrison?” Jean-Michel asked. “And has someone told the caterer about Su-Lin’s allergies?” “Caterer and staff arrive at seven. Meal’s scheduled to begin around eightish. Austen should have told them,” Harry answered.

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Thomas checked his watch. “It’s seven forty-five.” “If Austen’s been on a bender, I doubt he remembered to tell the caterers about the bacon and macadamias. I’ll go speak with them.” Terry shifted Su-Lin onto the sofa. “I don’t want her alone for a minute. Why don’t you freshen up, darlin’? Thomas, go with her. There’s a connecting door to her cabin, keep it open and stay with her till I can get away.” “Done.” “Let’s wrap this up, then.” He gave Su-Lin a hasty kiss and shoved off the couch. “Is Thomas going to shower with me too?” She sounded disgruntled and had one of those too-sweet smiles pasted on her face. “I have to go, Su-Lin, but I won’t be long.” Snarling fingers in his hair, he did an aboutface and left the library. Recessed track lighting gave the corridor a soft glow, but Terry never noticed, shifting puzzle pieces in his mind. Nothing clicked, and he stepped into the galley to find a crew of three people bustling about in the small space. Steam billowed from a stainless steel pot bubbling on the black ceramic cooktop, and a spicy scent he couldn’t identify tickled his nose. A tall, thin youth chopped carrots in the far corner, while a stout woman used a wooden spoon to stir the confection on the stove. Another female, wearing a classic maid’s costume, black dress with a frilly white apron tied around the waist, arranged food on a plate. Terry cleared his throat, and the thickset woman whipped around, sending a spray of liquid against the metal backdrop. “Don’t let me interrupt. I’m Terrence O’Connor, the Glory’s captain. What’s the arrangement for tonight?” Austen buzzed through the doorway at that precise moment, eyes bloodshot, dark hair plastered to his scalp. “Hey, boss. Buffet-style meal, served inside. We rearranged the entertainment area. One long table, open seating. Pass muster?” He groaned. “Fricking great. Why not on the deck?” “Eighty percent chance of rain tonight.” “Terrific.” Terry stepped into the hallway and Austen followed. “Did you inform them about Su-Lin’s allergies?” Austen nodded but avoided meeting Terry’s gaze. “Spill it, Austen. What’s wrong now?” “Here, today’s Matin.” The bosun thrust a folded newspaper into Terry’s hands. “This is the only copy on board. The lawyer mentioned in the article? He’s the one who called your father the other day.” Terry knew before he unfolded the newsprint. He read the blurb anyway, a reprint of the article from four weeks ago with a stellar addition, that of his father’s conviction his son was a murderer. “What’s wrong?” He spun around to face his twin. Thomas’s gaze dropped to the unfolded newspaper. “Bleeding hell, not that again.”

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“You knew about it?” “My maman’s brother officiated at your hearing.” Jean-Michel stood next to Thomas. He angled a chin at the paper. “Thomas wanted an impartial judge.” The barometric pressure in the hallway dipped, and each of Terry’s senses intensified. The clinking of cutlery behind him, the smell of onions sautéing, all contrived into a wave of nausea so intense he had to swallow the sourness rising up his throat. “Why? If my own father believes me a murderer, why would you want to prove me innocent?” “I don’t know what happened that night, Terry. I suspect you don’t either. But you’re my other half. I know you’re not capable of murder. The press was screaming for a conviction. They’d already crucified you. I knew you’d get fair treatment if Miche’s uncle conducted the investigation, and I pulled a few strings.” Thomas shrugged. “And for the record, Papa wouldn’t dream of washing dirty linen in public. This story’s a plant.” “It is curious, non, that the newspaper chooses this time to revive old scandals?” Something in Jean-Michel’s tone made Terry narrow his eyes and examine the youth’s features. “You’re not surprised. About the article?” “Non, Terrence. My maman’s cousin works for a rival newspaper. He warned us about the article. The reporter who wrote that” -- he pointed to the newspaper -- “is known to steer just short of libel, and if you notice, there is no direct quote from your papa.” In the soft lighting, Jean-Michel’s features appeared sculpted, angel-like, and radiated purity and innocence. Terry’s stomach cramped; he couldn’t remember ever feeling anything but a soiled specimen of humanity. “Is there new evidence as this implies?” He waved the folded newsprint. “Non, not according to my relative.” “I don’t want Su-Lin to know.” “Is that wise?” Every muscle bunched, his fading control shattered, and he snapped, his voice ringing in the hushed corridor. “I don’t give a fricking leprechaun if it’s wise or not, Thomas. The minute I know she’s safe, I’m taking her to Ireland and we’re getting married.” “No, not that way. Tell her the truth.” The plea in Thomas’s gray eyes begged an answer. “And watch her leave? No fricking way. I’m tying her to me first.” “She’s in love with you. Can’t you see? She’s not going to leave you.” “After I tell her I screwed my own stepmother? After I tell her I betrayed my own father? After she finds out I’m an accused murderer? What sane woman would stick by such a sick, perverted specimen of manhood?” “I guess you’ll never know.” His gut slammed up his throat. Terry stared into green eyes welling with moisture. Hands clenched into tight fists, lower lip caving, Su-Lin stood in the hallway behind Thomas and Jean-Michel, tears streaming down cheeks blanched so white, he feared she would faint. Giving a little shake of her head, she knuckled the liquid off her right cheek, whispered, “How could you?”

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He couldn’t move, couldn’t shake the paralysis that left him immobile, watching her retreating form. “Go after her, Terry.” Thomas’s words careened around his brain. “Why?” The simple question reverberated and sent him into a mechanical trance. One where he appeared to function. One that kept him from drowning in pain. He left hearing Thomas’s warnings but not registering the words, operating on a remote autopilot, knowing he needed space, time. Terry gave Austen orders to head to Monte Carlo, and he penned a quick note to Thomas explaining he would meet him in New York in two weeks’ time. Then he motored the Boston Whaler back to Nice and headed into the city’s slums. The following morning, he woke to a blinding headache and a room littered with empty glasses, half-filled liquor bottles, and a seminude woman lying next to him. Terry squeezed his eyes shut when he recognized the girl from the sex shop. What had he done? Stifling a groan, he edged off the soiled mattress and combined waves of nausea and relief hit him when he realized he was still fully clothed. The fog in his brain lifted when he caught the time on his wristwatch. Three in the afternoon. Jaysus. Terry gunned the Range Rover on the way to the Glory’s Monte Carlo berth. A swath of uniformed French policemen prevented him accessing the dock’s parking lot. Alarm slithered up his spine, and his stomach listed. “I’m the captain of the Glory. I need to get to my ship,” he said to a man with an inspector’s insignia on his shoulder. “Terrence Gore?” “Terrence O’Connor.” “Where have you been, monsieur?” “Why?” “Two women, both your passengers, are missing.” Instant replay of a morning four years earlier kicked in, and a series of images filled his mind, superseded in an inhale by Su-Lin’s sad green eyes. Before Terry could formulate the question he didn’t want to ask, three uniformed men rushed onto the dock and surrounded the inspector. Rapid-fire French bounced back and forth between the four men, the words ebbing and flowing as cars sped by. A custom Harley raced past them and came to an abrupt stop about five feet away. “Yo, Terry. This way.” Harry unstrapped his helmet and slapped it onto the motorcycle’s black leather seat. “Hurry, man.” Adrenaline surged, and it took only three strides to reach Harry’s side.

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“Who’s missing?” “Su-Lin. Carol-Ann.” “Jaysus. Both of them?” “When?” “Sometime last night. After your little show-and-tell performance, Su-Lin locked herself in her room. This morning, the aunt and uncle raised Cain when they couldn’t find her. You should have told me where you were going.” “The relatives called in the police?” “The wannabe uncle did. Had to admire the bastard’s nerve. Cool as a cucumber. Never batted an eyelid.” Harry jammed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “Do you have an alibi for last night?”

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Chapter Sixteen  “Forget my fricking alibi. Where the hell is Su-Lin?” He dragged both hands through his hair and glanced at the flame-emblazoned Harley. “Where were you?” “Hotel de Paris. Trying to find your freaking ass. You’re all over CNN, Terry. That old case is being resurrected. Don’t look now, but the gendarmes are heading our way.” “Let’s ride,” Terry said. He snapped off the spare helmet and strapped it on. “Where to?” Harry asked, buckling his chin strap and settling long legs over the powerful machine. “Nice, my house.” “I called in the troops. Should I let them know to meet us there?” “You drive, I’ll call them.” By the time they made it to the farmhouse, Terry had managed to subdue his panic. He surveyed the three cars parked outside and knew who he’d see inside. Terry dropped the black helmet onto a tiled kitchen counter and surveyed the room. One of the reasons he’d bought the house was this old-fashioned, airy room, its thick stone walls roughened through centuries of living, the large fireplace with an alcove for baking bread. His mother had always made bread, even though they employed a small army of servants. She’d always timed it so the bread popped out of the oven as they raced into the kitchen after a long day at school. Terry scanned the room, noted the full carafe of coffee on the kitchen counter, and the two men seated at the kitchen table. Suresh poured tea from a rustic pot into a matching mug, his eyes dipped briefly to the liquid before he nodded at Terry. Rolan shot him a glance and a grin as he closed the blinds over the windows above the sink. “Thanks for coming, everyone. Sorry to involve you and Sarita in this mess, Rolan. Same goes, Suresh.” “As if I didn’t know from experience you’d do the same for me. Sarita’s staying with Miche’s family in Grasse. Tony’s with her.”

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“I hope your wife keeps that young son of yours away from CNN.” Rolan snorted. “As if that were possible. Tony’s researching your old case on the Net. Last I heard, he’d decided to be both a quarterback and a PI. God knows how much that’s going to cost me in spy gadgets.” A smile teased at Terry’s mouth. “Glad the hellion’s in my corner. I’ll fund the gadgets.” “Gentlemen, we’re wasting time,” Suresh announced. “Let’s start with the basics.” Terry walked over to the fridge, opened it, then grabbed a bottle of water. “From the top. “All present and accounted for at around eight p.m.” Harry drawled, tipping his chair back. “You took off in the Whaler around thirty minutes later after giving orders to head to Monte Carlo. Su-Lin didn’t appear for dinner, which was served around nine. Everyone else was present. Austen played barman. Your father showed up a half an hour into the meal. He could barely stand. He and Carol-Ann got into it shortly after. She threw her plate at him and stormed out.” Terry finished his water, threw the empty bottle into the sink, and reached over to flip a light switch. The shadows at the corners of the room lifted. “Continue. What happened next?” “Austen dropped the caterers back to Nice near midnight. We pulled anchor and headed to Monte Carlo. Around one, the engineer noticed the cooling light flashing and called me. We docked in Antibes.” Harrison cleared his throat. “This morning, after we repaired the engine, we headed to Monte Carlo. En route, we discovered the women were missing.” The kitchen door banged open, and Geoff’s large frame appeared in the doorway. He kicked the door shut and entered without saying a word. Wearing a scowl and carrying a sheaf of papers in one hand, his long legs consumed the distance to the kitchen table. He deposited five pages on the table and shifted them until satisfied with their placement. “Show-and-tell, gentlemen. Let’s play connect the dots.” Terry studied the sheets. “Okay, I give up. I recognize Emma, James, Carol-Ann, and from the color of her eyes, I’m guessing this is, or was, Su-Lin’s mother. Is this her father? He is oriental, but I can’t see much of a resemblance, except maybe about the eyes.” “Look again.” “I hate it when you get like that,” Rolan muttered. “Geoff, get to the point.” “I get it,” Suresh said, onyx eyes flicking from one photo to another. “Watch.” He slid two photographs side by side and used his hands to bracket two pairs of eyes. “Add fifty pounds, a little snip here, and voilà.” “Uncle James.” Terry’s lungs stopped functioning. “Meet Chang Ling, most productive pimp in Thailand. He owns a series of sex shops throughout the Far East.” Geoff slid another photo into the melee. “This is Deshi Ling, Su-Lin’s father.” “The eyes have it,” murmured Suresh. “Su-Lin has the same almond-shaped eyes as her father and uncle, but the slant is her father’s.” “Chang and Deshi were half brothers; each had a different mother. Both were raised in Vietnam. One fought for the communists, the other fought alongside US troops. Their father was a truly nasty piece of work, and he remained in Vietnam after the war. Since Deshi fought for the

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US, he was relocated to San Francisco and given a job in the State department. Five years after his relocation, he met and married Annika Aldersparre, a Swedish foreign-exchange student. Before they married, Deshi legally changed his name to John Wayne Taylor.” “Why the name change?” Thomas asked. “Who knows? But the timing disturbs me,” Geoff replied. “Most immigrants, if they’re going to anglicize their name, do it either on entry into the new mother country or within weeks of immigrating. Not five years later.” Terry stared at the photographs, his sixth sense kicking and screaming something was missing. “What about the bonds?” “Purchased the day the treasury announced they would no longer be printing those denominations. Three weeks after the Taylors moved to Mayo, Ohio.” “We’re still missing something,” Terry muttered. “The lawyer, Finklestein, had a heart attack in his sleep, two weeks ago. No investigation. Body cremated,” Geoff said. All eyes turned to him. “That’s ominous,” Thomas remarked into the stunned silence. “Fricking hell. They’re tying up loose ends.” Terry took a deep breath. Adrenaline scoured his veins. “But why the hell is Carol-Ann missing too?” “There’s something you’re forgetting, Terry.” His head jerked in the direction of his twin’s voice. Outlined by the watery afternoon sunlight pouring through the open doorway, he couldn’t discern his brother’s expression until he stepped into the room and stood to one side. Terry stared into Thomas’s eyes, and he knew. “Papa’s association with Lockheed. Do you have a study in this cottage?” “I assume we’re heading there?” Terry’s senses had gone on alert at the tone of his twin’s voice, the grim set of his mouth. “This way.” Thomas nodded and followed him down a shadowed hallway lit by a lone standing lamp with a tiffany shade. “What is it?” he asked as soon as they reached the privacy of his spare, aka junk, room. “Papa admitted to going to sex clubs in Thailand after Mama died.” “Jaysus.” He slid down into a chair, his movement toward the floor only stopped because his feet ran into a baseboard scarred white by time. “Jaysus.” “A few years ago, he met someone. Someone close to half his age.” All of a sudden the collage of events began to make sense. “A man?” Terry’s tongue slurred on the words. “In his midforties, an ex-mercenary who’d lost his leg in a landmine explosion. Drinking himself to an early grave. Since Papa had been trying to accomplish that for a couple of decades, they started doing the town when he was in the Far East. One thing led to another.” “I can’t wrap my mind around this right now,” he said, not sure he’d ever be able to. “Tell me how it relates to Su-Lin’s disappearance.”

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“Papa met Chang at one of these clubs. Somehow the story about that woman falling overboard four years ago came up. Chang couched the invitation to the cocktail party as a threat.” “Blackmail,” Terry growled. “Basically, Papa thought he was being used to introduce Chang to wealthy marks, and he went along with it. When he found out about Chang chartering the Glory, he decided to do a little investigating.” “I’m not going to like this, am I?” Thomas shook his head. “Emma was Finkelstein’s secretary.” “Jaysus.” The blood drained out of his extremities. “How did Su-Lin not know her? Are they married?” “That’s all we know at this point.” “Chang’s killed her and thrown her overboard. Jaysus. Thomas, what am I going to do?” “Stop panicking, we have no proof of that. Remember, Chang needs her to cash the bonds.” A shudder racked his body. “You’re right on all counts. It’s time to focus. Where do we stand with the authorities?” “You know the French justice system, guilty until proven innocent. They’ve detained Papa for Carol-Ann’s disappearance. They’re looking at you for Su-Lin’s, and perhaps Carol-Ann as well, if Papa doesn’t pan out.” “And where the hell are the Lockheeds in this?” “Offering a hundred-thousand-euro reward for the safe return of their darling niece. They’ve hired a slew of PR experts and lawyers and are holed up in an undisclosed private residence.” “We need to get Geoff’s proof that they’re imposters to the authorities, pronto.” “Miche slipped on board the Glory while I was in with the authorities and Papa. He found this in the kitchen.” Thomas held up the emerald bracelet he’d given Su-Lin in Grasse. “The caterers.” Squeezing his eyes shut, he prayed. Please, please let them have her. His fingers closed over the cool metal. “Exactly.” “We need to get started on them ASAP.” He slipped the bracelet into his pants pocket and flipped open his cell. “Austen will have all the info.” Shooting to his feet, Terry stalked back to the kitchen with Thomas in tow. As he walked, he barked questions into the receiver. “Thom, do me a favor. Bring the others up to date and get Geoff to contact the authorities. I have the address of the caterers. I’m headed there.” “Done. Take a backup. Let Harry ride with you.” Thirty-nine minutes later they arrived at a building on the fringe of the Arabic part of Nice, a slum area frequented by whores and addicts. The address Austen had given him led to the shop where he’d purchased the oils and sex toys days earlier. Dread roiled his empty stomach, and the acidity coating it heated and cramped. A cold sweat bathed his temples. “Something’s very wrong, Harry.”

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“Yeah, they don’t sell food, not unless it’s edible panties.” “I bought stuff here not days ago, and the tart I ended up with last night is the cashier for this place.” “No freaking way. Every hair on my body’s saluting. We’re being played.” “In a major way. Time’s slipping by.” He couldn’t keep the desperation out of his voice and choked back a lump on the last few words. Terry raced the bike back to the farmhouse, his mind tracing the white zipper dividing the narrow mountain road into two lanes. He switched off the ignition and strapped the helmet to its safety catch on the handlebars. Harry and Terry found the others sitting around the dinner table, drinking red wine. Someone had made a halfhearted attempt to find food. About eleven crackers and a saucer of fat green olives lay on a couple of place mats. “Geoff’s gone to deal with the authorities. He’s heading to London from Nice. He’s started a file on Chang and will keep us updated,” Rolan said. “Thomas and Miche brought us up-todate.” “I have an idea.” Terry pulled out a chair, turned it around, and sat facing everyone. “In another remarkable coincidence, the address for the caterer turned out to be the same as a sex shop I visited a few days ago. In addition, the tart I woke up next to this morning is the cashier at said sex shop. She spoke Romany last night.” Jean-Michel whistled. “And the Gypsy camp on Miche’s estate is the only source for the absinthe that poisoned Su-Lin in Grasse,” Thomas said, ticking off an aerial check mark. “On more than one occasion, she was convinced the Gypsies were following her, particularly Adria.” Another check mark. “And seeing this cashier twice, being with her the night the women go missing? It’s a setup.” Suresh coughed. “Sounds like reaching at straws.” Rolan shifted in his seat. “We haven’t any other leads.” An uncomfortable silence reigned for several minutes. Sunlight faded; the room darkened to peering point. Terry rose to his feet, shut the door, and flicked a light switch on the wall. “I can’t sit around and wait for Geoff or the gendarmes’ findings,” Terry stated. “I’m heading back to Jean-Michel’s estate, and I’m going to have a few choice words with the leader of these Gypsies.” “Plus we need a break and some real food.” Suresh flicked an offending cracker. “Agreed,” Rolan interjected. “Grasse is less than an hour away. Sarita texted me thirty minutes ago. She’s barbecuing.” “Let’s take one vehicle,” Terry said. “Everyone can fit in my Hummer,” Suresh offered. “I’ll call ahead and let them know we’re coming.” The lone naked lightbulb on the left side of the farmhouse’s roof overhang didn’t provide much relief from a rural darkness, which limited visibility to no more than three or four feet. An owl hooted and leaves rustled when they passed a graceful oak casting a deeper shadow on the gravel drive. Ahead of him, Harry muttered a curse when his boot failed to gain purchase over a slippery boulder, and his shin bumped the SUV’s exhaust.

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They piled into the vehicle, Suresh turned on the ignition, and the automobile rolled down the winding road. Silence prevailed until they hit the A8. Terry worked through the facts as they climbed into a low range of hills. “Crack the window a notch, Harry. I need some fresh air.” Two windows squeaked down and the scent of fresh pine rolled through the car’s interior. Inhaling, Terry let the aroma soothe and calm nerves so sizzling raw a tic had started under one eye. “Su-Lin ever talk about her mother?” Terry met Suresh’s dark eyes in the rearview mirror. “Not much. She’s actually said more about her father. I know he taught her Mandarin.” “From the little she said to me, her mother wasn’t the stablest of persons mentally. I think the truth about her aunt and uncle hit her hard. That day we had lunch in Nice, she spoke about her neighbors, an Italian family with loads of relatives. She had such a wistful tone.” “She became the parent after her father died, that much I’ve gathered,” Terry said, and an overwhelming protective urge curled his fingers into fists. “That first night at dinner, Emma told me Su-Lin wasn’t stable mentally. That she only imagined she’d made the Olympic team. They’ve been setting up her disappearance from day one.” “Looks like it,” Suresh said. “I wonder if they’re behind the newspaper reports about you?” “Yeah, right. I’m not convinced my father didn’t have a hand in that one. There’s no love lost between us.” “Probably because, aside from our mother, you’re the only functioning heterosexual in the family. Resentment, brother, and an old man’s regrets.” Thomas shook his head. “When I spoke with him, he denied any responsibility for either article.” Terry retreated into his thoughts, images of Su-Lin’s innocent joy as she unwrapped the presents he’d given her, the way she tried to preserve the bow as a keepsake, the way she scrunched her nose, her shy smile when she saw the origami rose, stamping his pupils. Anger banked his blood at the thought of anyone despoiling her sweetness, and he knew he’d become a madman if anyone caused her even one iota of pain. “Turn left ici.” Jean’s soft murmur penetrated his scattered mental ramblings. They rounded a bend onto the familiar tree-lined driveway. At the far end of the long approach, soft illumination painted the graceful curves of the Fragonard Château. Moonlight hit a sparkling roof tiled ivory to match the paint on intricately crafted engravings gracing a double doorway. Six half-circle stone steps merged two curved staircases punctuating either side of the mansion. A slender, scruffy female sat on the fourth step, elbows propped on knees bared by a jagged skirt. Inky smudges streaked one cheekbone, and sable hair haloed her thin face. Long legs stretched three feet below his hips, Rolan’s son sat next to the girl, braced on his elbows. Face pointed to twinkling stars, the boy ignored the sounds of the Hummer gunning up the formal driveway. Before the SUV halted, Terry snapped his seat belt open. He hopped out of the vehicle before the vehicle’s engine died. So did Thomas. “That’s Adria, Ter. That’s the Gypsy girl.” A red haze engulfed his vision, and he cuffed one palm with his hand.

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Grabbing his biceps, Thomas squeezed and said, “Let me. You’re wound too tight.” He was. Terry nodded and clamped his lips together. “Took you long enough.” Tony imitated Harrison’s Texan drawl. “Mom’s almost finished the barbecue.” “Son.” Rolan appeared beside Thomas. “Who’s this charming young lady?” “This is Adria.” Thomas dropped to one knee. Faces level, he asked the girl, “Do you remember me?” She nodded. Terry listened as his twin cajoled the prepubescent female into divulging more information than she realized. His commando training prevailed, and he didn’t interrupt his brother, not even when temptation scuttled his brain. To make her more comfortable, Thomas had switched into the Gypsy dialect. The girl kept her focus on Tony but answered each question his twin threw her way. By the time Thomas paused, Jean-Michel, Suresh, and Harry had joined them. A stiff breeze whipped all the clouds out of the sky, and the moon competed with the soft track lights to polish the outside of the château with fairy iridescence. Terry surreptitiously studied the Gypsy girl, noting the dirt under jagged fingernails and the holes showing in scuffed, muddied sneakers. Her right big toe poked a show-and-tell dance from one such opening. She appeared unnaturally contained for such a young girl. Thomas rose and Terry noted the way he avoided looking in his direction. “Translation?” Thomas shifted so he faced everyone. “From what I can gather, Adria’s brother Casmir locked her up in a cottage on the property. Tony found and rescued her. They’ve hung out together since then. When Rolan left to meet us in Nice, he explained everything to his wife and son. Tony went into PI mode and managed to obtain a picture of Su-Lin. He showed it to Adria about thirty minutes ago. She told him her brother had Su-Lin in the barn. She saw him injecting something into her arm.” A slight hiccup and a Germanic-sounding phrase erupted from Adria’s mouth. “Adria says Su-Lin’s sleepy but okay.” “Well done, son.” Rolan ruffled his son’s hair. “Aw, Dad,” the boy whined, edging out from under his father’s embrace. “Don’t do that. It’s not cool.” “Have you eaten?” “Naw, Mom said we had to wait for you guys. She’s going to adopt Adria.” Rolan’s eyes crossed. “She can’t adopt every stray she bounces into. That woman’s going to be the death of me.” “Adria’s not a stray,” Tony snapped. “And she understands English. Speaks it too.” “Son. You and your mother cannot adopt every wounded dove that comes your way. And you do realize Arnold will have to go to a zoo.” “Arnold?” Jean-Michel interjected. “Zoo?” “Our pet elephant,” Rolan replied.

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Jean-Michel’s lips curled and his navy eyes twinkled. “Mais oui, but of course, everyone has one.” He waved a hand in the air. “You said once I found a way to get rid of his turds, you’d think about letting me keep him.” The boy sprang to his feet. “You did.” “I saw the size of Arnie’s doo-doo,” Harry drawled. “What crazy notion did you come up with, Tony?” “Time’s ticking,” Terry barked. “I’m heading to the fricking barn.” “Don’t be a fool. You know the rules, no SR, no SITREP, no go.” “I am not making nice with anyone, Harry, nor do I intend to waste time with gruel.” “Listen to Harry.” Thomas grasped his forearm. “Whatever those acronyms are, I’m certain they’re crucial.” “US Army terminology for the first two steps before a deployment, Special Reconnaissance, Situation Report,” Harrison explained. “No one’s freaking expecting you to be a social monkey or to swallow food. We’ll go after Su-Lin right away, but after we suss out the situation.” “Let calmer heads prevail, Terry.” Rolan urged. “Come on, let’s go inside.” “Ask the girl if Carol-Ann was in this barn too,” Suresh suggested. The comment stun-gunned Terry’s brain. “Jaysus, I’d completely forgotten about her.” “No, she hasn’t. We saw the other woman on CNN.” Tony raced up the steps and threw open the double doors. “Come on. Everyone’s in the kitchen.” They followed, albeit at a slower pace. A soft musical voice tinkled across the entranceway. “Miche, don’t let your amis linger in the cold. Bring them in.” “Maman,” Jean-Michel stated, kissing his mother’s cheek. “Entrez, everyone.” He waved the group into the room. Nothing registered on his brain. Terry followed Harrison into a square airy room the size of a small department store. Two fireplaces with blazing flames framed glass French doors, which ran ceiling to floor and led to a canopied, slate-tiled terrace. A lithe woman, dressed with the casual, elegant style only a Frenchwoman could muster, in less time than it took to inhale, graced a teak-planked center island bordered on the far end by two retro bar stools. Adria sat on one, grubby hands clamped together at her waist, gaze darting between Rolan’s wife, Sarita, and Michel’s mother. The resemblance between the two Fragonards couldn’t be missed. “Terrence.” The woman’s voice proved even more musical up close. “I haven’t seen you since you were ten years old. I’d forgotten how identical you and Thomas are.” She tiptoed and kissed him twice, first on one cheek and then the other. “Welcome.” “Hi, honey.” Rolan grinned and ate up the distance to his spouse. He circled one arm around her waist and dropped a kiss on her head. “Hello, yourself.” Sarita untied a white apron and deposited it on the island’s wooden counter. Jean-Michel introduced everyone to his mother, Renée Fragonard.

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“Terry, I know you must be anxious and that you need to get to Su-Lin as soon as possible. Everything’s organized. Dinner’s delayed until all of you get back. Adria, Tony, and I scouted the barn and the approach to it. Don’t worry, Rolan.” Sarita rolled her eyes. “We didn’t get close. I took a zoom camera. We took zillions of shots. All the photographs are on the kitchen table. Go for it.” “Thank you,” Terry said, and his words were heartfelt. He approached a side table littered with five-by-seven pictures. Breathing unsteady, fingers shaking, he thumbed through them. Even with the cold air bristling through the open doors, sweat broke out along his hairline and his palms grew damp. Accustomed to complete dominion over all body functions at all times, his reactions unnerved him further. Terry realized he’d started using terrorist tactics to combat anxiety, compartmentalizing the night into tight boxes and focusing on them. Reconnaissance, rescue. His brain shied away from anything faintly futuristic. In the background, he heard the murmur of soft conversation. Terry concentrated on the photographs of the barn and its surroundings. “How far away’s the barn?” “About half an hour’s walk from the château,” Jean Michel replied. “We have three scooters, several bicycles, four or five vehicles, and the horses, of course. Your choice?” “Horses,” Terry stated. “Details.” “Four Arabs, all expertly trained.” “Dad, you have to hear this.” Tony skidded to a halt beside Terry. “Adria says there’s some celebration tonight, and her brother’s at the Gypsy village. He’ll probably be there the whole night. That’ll help, won’t it? I mean, you guys can get going right away?” “It helps oodles, Tony. You’re a great kid. Thanks.” Terry ruffled the boy’s hair. “Aw, what is it with you grown-ups?” Tony complained, ducking away. An argument broke out when Terry stated he and Harry alone would rescue Su-Lin. Thomas and Jean-Michel, furious and adamant, demanded to be included. “Four makes more sense than two, Terry.” Sarita interrupted their quarreling. “I think one of you men should stay here. The others can keep us informed, and if we need to call in the authorities, we can.” “I suppose you’re volunteering me for the stay behind man.” Rolan’s voice sounded sullen. “I think it’ll take both you and me to ensure our son doesn’t follow everyone else.” Rolan let out an audible sigh. “I’d forgotten about that. Tony, let’s teach Adria billiards.” Tony spoke to the girl in her own language. Surprise had her eyebrows climbing to a widow’s-peaked hairline. She set her hands on her hips and grinned, raking Rolan head to toe. “Uh-oh. That look so says I just caught the perfect patsy,” Sarita murmured. “You three head to the pool room. Renée and I will bring in snacks and join the game.” As soon as the room cleared Terry asked, “You carrying, Harry?” “You bet.” He patted his left shoulder. “I can hardly believe it, but I must have left my Ruger behind last night. I don’t have it on me.”

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Within ten minutes, the four men, mounted on powerful stallions, moved down a mudpacked path at a brisk walk. Jean-Michel led the way across a wide meadow toward a thick forest lining a steep ridge. Terry signaled his horse into a trot, keeping the pressure constant with his heel so the animal maintained an even, fast pace. They entered a canopy of green interspersed with tall, narrow pines and thick, spreading oaks. A carpet of papery leaves crunched and cushioned the animal’s hooves. Terry shivered as a frozen northeast gust swept low-hanging boughs and branches, the chill in the air echoing the apprehension feathering each nape hair into a desperate salute. Ahead of him, Jean-Michel eased into a canter as the forest thinned and opened into a narrow clearing. An unsteady stream of moonlight played havoc with solid and phantom shapes. When they neared a line of four sparse pines, Jean held up a palm. “That’s it.” Terry cursed even though he’d been forewarned by Sarita’s photographs. The barn stood in the center of a half a mile of a short-grassed, treeless field. “Harry and I’ll approach on foot. You and Thomas watch our backs. If they spot us, or you notice anything out of the ordinary, charge. If either of you spots a woman, hold all fire. Otherwise, shoot. Try to wound, not kill. Got that?” “You want answers, I understand. No problem, they will be alive.” Terry grunted, his brain already in deploy mode. They waited for the moon to duck behind one of the many clouds dotting the midnight sky. Harry took the left flank, Terry the right. The iciness in the air didn’t prevent perspiration from coating Terry’s forehead. Crawling forward slow inches at a time, senses attuned to any nuances not of nature, he paused ten feet away from the dilapidated building. Peering ahead through dancing green blades, he made out a set of high, square double doors, rusting iron handles held together by a sparkling steel chain and a brand-new padlock. A slight rustle heralded Harry’s arrival at the right of the barn. The moon picked that moment to peek out from under its cloud and Terry cursed and burrowed into the dewy grass. Above his head, brilliant radiance illuminated every detail: a series of footsteps imprinted in moist earth near a listing door, trampled weeds half-hidden where a hard shoe had dug out a clump. He stifled a stream of expletives. Harry’s booted feet disappeared around the opposite side of the stable. Realizing nature had blown his cover, Terry shot to his feet and lunged for the chain. Metal clinking reverberated like an exploding hand grenade in the quiet night. Taking a step back, he pulled out the wire cutters Jean-Michel had provided them with earlier. “Don’t bother. Place is empty. Back door’s open.” “He moved her.” Bile flooded Terry’s mouth.

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Chapter Seventeen  “Wake up.” The coarse-accented whisper penetrated Su-Lin’s fogged mind, but the words seemed faraway and floated around her mind, meaningless. Her head throbbed. Bony hands with jagged nails bit into her flesh. “Vite, vite. Before he comes back. Merde.” The hissed expletive bore the scent of onion. Su-Lin gagged. Her eyelids opened in slow increments. She wet her lips and winced when the light touch stung. “I’m dreaming.” Did that coarse voice belong to her? “Non, non. No dream. Come with me.” The girl’s thin face swam in and out of focus. “Adria. Gypsy. Gym.” Su-Lin wriggled bare toes and tensed, stilling as a thousand pins lanced her flesh. “Up, up,” the girl whispered and darted a glance over one shoulder. She edged one hand under Su-Lin’s armpit and pulled. The movement brought a wave of nausea and shaved returning sharpness from her vision. Su-Lin bit her lip and dug her elbows into cool dirt, leveraging her back off the ground. Something hard dug into her pelvis; she shifted and pushed her hand into her pants pocket. Her fingers closed around cool metal, and she removed the object. “Qu’est-ce que c’est?” “Phone,” she muttered. “One.” The girl crooned, “Up, up.” Her small hand pried Su-Lin’s fingers open, and she took the phone. “Bien, vite, vite.” The girl moved behind her, and using two small palms, she pushed Su-Lin to her feet. As soon as Su-Lin stood, her knees buckled and she fell against a wooden surface. Slivers worked into one hand as she grabbed a rough edge.

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Working one arm around her waist, the girl kept Su-Lin standing. Su-Lin frowned when her eyes grew accustomed to an almost-pitch darkness. She recognized a thatched interior and puzzled over the dirt floor. A loud chorus sung in a lilting rhythm almost drowned the sound of loud laughter, a hearty cackling, and the splintering of glass on glass. Through a hole in the matted leaves and twigs, SuLin glimpsed colorful garments, and…dancing? “Dreaming,” she muttered. “Non, non.” The girl took two steps forward, and Su-Lin stumbled along. In fits and starts, they made it to an opening in the hovel. With each slow inch, Su-Lin’s mind absorbed more sounds. Shots? Screams? A tambourine? As they edged out of the structure, she understood the persistent onion stench. A heap of the rotting vegetables braced a door hanging off one hinge. She held her breath, but that made her head spin, so she breathed through her mouth. “Rapide, rapide,” the Gypsy hissed and broke into a trot. Su-Lin bit her lip to stifle the moans threatening to emerge. She choked in oxygen, gulping cool air into starved lungs. “Please, stop.” She gasped. “I can’t.” “You must. He comes soon.” But she slowed their pace. “Who?” “Mon frère. Vite, vite,” Adria shouted. “He comes. Run, run.” “Phone.” Su-Lin gasped. “Phone. One. Une.” A variety of male voices splintered the forested area. From the thrashing and crashing behind them, Su-Lin knew it wasn’t a single person following them, but several. Had she finally lost her grip on reality? It felt real. Her heart competed with the hammering in her head. Each strangled breath made her dizzier. A bellow sounded from right behind them. Adria urged. “Rapide, tout de suite.” Su-Lin stumbled and fell to her knees. “Non, non. Up. Up.” “Phone, une,” she muttered, squeezing the girl’s fingers. “Une.” “Merde,” Adria muttered, but she flipped open the cell and stabbed one. Shoving the phone into Su-Lin’s hand, the girl thrust her hands under Su-Lin’s armpits and pulled. “Adria.” Su-Lin turned; she recognized the boy from the Cours Saleya. The menace in his flashing black eyes cleared the fog from her brain. Racing toward them, less than a highway’s width behind them. A surge of panic flooded her brain; she broke into a jog and stumbled. “I get knocked down,” accompanied by the pounding bass of a guitar, blasted from the phone’s receiver. Her feet tripped over a gnarled tree root, and Su-Lin hit a tree trunk and wrapped one arm around the rough bark.

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“Su-Lin! Su-Lin, where are you?” “Terrence,” she said, “I don’t like this dream.” The phone fell onto the forest floor. She pushed off the spindly tree and turned around, Casmir stood not two feet away, lips in a snarl baring white teeth. Adria faced him. He raised a hand behind his head. Protective instincts showered adrenaline through Su-Lin’s veins; she jerked between the two Gypsies. Su-Lin glared at the boy and remembered his name. “Casmir.” The boy shouted, “Adria.” The girl stepped in front of her, arms folded across a thin chest, chin jutting. Adria opened her mouth, and a barrage erupted. Startled by the force of her bellow, Su-Lin jumped. These two argued often, she guessed and grew giddy trying to decipher their yells. As she leaned her head against a tree, the aches and pains the adrenaline had blocked surfaced. In the distance, through the thin curtain of leaves swishing in a cool breeze, she saw four men galloping across a meadow. Su-Lin blinked, certain now she’d lost all sanity. Horses? When she spotted Terry’s wheat mane flying in the wind, she surrendered to the white-knight-on-a-horse fantasy and smiled, waiting for his rescue. This dream proved perfect. He never took those wonderful gray eyes off her, not for a second. The sound of pounding hooves added a nice soundtrack to this movie, she decided. Terry brought the black steed to an abrupt halt, threw the reins to one side, and vaulted out of the saddle, every movement powerful, intent, determined. He stalked to her side, drew her into his arms, cradled her face with one hand, and raked her features. “You’re cut. You’ve blood on your right temple. Here.” He touched a thumb to her skin. His voice shook and moisture leaked from one storm-filled eye. “Don’t,” she whispered. “I’m okay. I love you, Terrence O’Connor.” She brushed the tear off his cheek. “This is the best dream I’ve ever had.” He scooped her off her feet and held her tight in his arms. She rested her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes, listening to his heart beating, knowing everything would be all right now. “Round up everyone. I don’t give a fricking damn if any of these men happen to get hurt in the process, especially that piece of vermin.” She opened her eyes to see the vermin, but Terry whirled around and so did everything else. “Get them all to the house. Miche, call a doctor. Have him at the house before I get there. Harry, find a vehicle and drive us back now.” “There are several trucks in the village,” Jean-Michel stated. “I’ll ride ahead and return with one.” “Go, honey,” Thomas said. “I’ll keep my brother from murdering anyone.” “You are going to regret ever touching my woman, Gypsy boy. I’ll make you pay every minute of the rest of your short mongrel life.” “Ter, cut it. Keep a lid. I know you’re near breaking point, but Su-Lin doesn’t need this right now.”

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Hearing Thomas speak her name puzzled Su-Lin. She stroked Terry’s throat, let her finger rest on his strong pulse. “It all feels so real. I should sell my dreams to those adventure parks.” Terry’s eyes narrowed. “Darlin’?” “She’s drugged, Terry. They’ve shot her up with something. Her eyes are glazed.” Harry raised a finger. “Sugar, follow my finger.” “Makes everything spin. Stop, Harry.” She closed her eyes, and their faces stopped acting like blurred carriages on a Ferris wheel. “I’m going to rest my eyes for a few minutes.” “We need to keep her awake, at least until the doc sees her,” Thomas said. “I’ll take care of it. Tie him up,” Terry ordered, angling his chin at Casmir. “Make it hurt.” “Non, you do not hurt mon frère.” Su-Lin opened one eye and peeked in the direction of the girl’s voice. Adria poked a finger into Terry’s jean-clad thigh. She barely reached his waist. Neck craned to meet his eyes, the little girl stamped one foot. “She’s perfect,” Su-Lin said. “She’s going to be a great gymnast. Could we have a daughter soon?” “Whatever you want, darlin’.” “Stop frowning,” she ordered and rubbed away the lines between his eyebrows. “You have to say it back.” “What, darlin’?” “I love you. That’s how it works. The knight rescues the princess. She says I love you. Then he says it back and kisses her. Only don’t kiss me. I think they dropped me in the rotting onions.” “Rotting onions?” “You still have to say it back.” “Cornered, drawn, and quartered,” Harry drawled. Distracted by a loud clanking, Su-Lin glanced in the direction of the noise and saw a most peculiar version of a pickup coming their way. It bounced and weaved on the gravel driveway, sending small pebbles flying and belching sooty smoke from a spout on its roof. The comical vehicle shuddered to a halt in front of them. “It hiccupped,” she said. “I’m afraid you won’t fit in the cab. I borrowed a blanket. Only consolation is the house’s not far away. Ten-minute ride, even in this thing.” Jean-Michel gave that fatalistic, archetypal shrug only the French male had ever mastered. “Oh my,” she muttered when the vehicle reared and jumped before moving forward. “Wrap your arms around my neck, darlin’. Hold on tight.” “How clever,” she said a few minutes later, as Terry wedged his feet into the far corners of the tray. “Thank you.” And then she slept like a baby. The last thing she felt was Terry’s arms and his body spooning her. Only the rays and a familiar scent lured her from sleep. “Tea,” she muttered and sniffed. “Peppermint tea.” She lifted her eyelids with slow caution and stared at a vaguely familiar ceiling.

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“How’re you feeling?” Eyes widening, Su-Lin stared at a vaguely familiar female. “Do you remember me? Sarita Paxton? We met briefly at the masked ball.” “Yes.” Su-Lin slid up the bed’s headboard, and her mind raced, taking in the surroundings. The bright sunshine flooded over a stone terrace through open glass and wood doors. Holding her breath, she hooded her eyes and darted peeks at the far wall, and almost slumped down with relief. “The Goddess room. Jean-Michel’s house.” “That’s right. I’m sure you’re wondering how you got here. I’m guessing the last thing you remember is the Glory.” Closing her eyes, she tried to piece together what happened after hearing Terry’s bald statement about his stepmother. She shuddered as a vision of the redhead with -- No, don’t go there, she thought. How could he think she would blame him? What kind of woman does that to a barely teenage boy? A memory surfaced. “The last thing I remember is Austen bringing a tray of food to my room. I ate a little and then fell asleep. How on earth did I get to the Fragonard Château?” “It’s a long, complicated story.” As she spoke, the woman deposited a tray on the bed next to Su-Lin’s thighs. Turning over a chintz teacup, she picked up a matching pot and said, “Herbal tea, no caffeine. I figured after what your poor stomach’s been through over the last while, we’ll stick to soothing foods. Okay with you?” The peppermint tang of the hot tea washed away the sour taste in Su-Lin’s mouth. “The doctor checked you out yesterday, but I’m sure you hardly remember any of that. You were pretty out of it.” Sarita edged an ornate chair closer to the bed. She waved a hand at the tray. “Two bran muffins with local honey and wild blueberry jam. Now I’m going to sit here and bring you up to date while you eat both.” Su-Lin broke one muffin in half and nibbled on the top while Sarita spoke. As each horrifying detail emerged, her appetite diminished, but she forced the food down. An existentialism settled around her brain, the ugly facts made her shudder. “You’re very pale. Are you feeling okay?” Sarita moved to sit on the edge of the bed. The door burst open. A young boy with a shock of sun-kissed blond hair and the greenest eyes she’d ever seen careened into the room and braked to an abrupt halt directly in front of the two women. “Mom, Dad wants you.” His eyes swung from Sarita to her. “Hi. I’m Anthony Rolan Paxton, but most everyone calls me Tony. Dad said you’re a gymnast, and Harry says you can do a split upside down. Can you show me how?” “Son --” The boy’s energy made her smile, and Su-Lin interrupted his mother. “I’d love to teach you how to do a split. Maybe tomorrow?” It’d be good to concentrate on something physical, tangible. She’d practice her routine tomorrow. Work with Tony. Where was Terrence? “Terry and the others left for Nice right before I brought you breakfast. They spent the morning interrogating Casmir and Adria. Son, ask your father to join us.” “Adria tried to help me. I remember that.” As she twisted the napkin into the shape of a crane Su-Lin’s thoughts sifted through hazy, seemingly unrelated images, Adria’s pale cheeks,

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her brother’s thundering bellows. She only noticed the boy sprinting away when he missed tumbling a chintz vase by an infinitesimal inch. “Why did Terrence go to Nice?” “Your uncle and aunt have vanished. Terry, Thomas, Suresh, and Miche are there because Carol-Ann’s body washed up on the morning tide. Miche’s uncle is overseeing the investigation into the matter. Terry has to testify about his whereabouts that night.” “Where was he?” She held her breath. “In a bar drinking.” Sarita’s voice changed, and Su-Lin studied her features. She wouldn’t make eye contact. “Please tell me,” she whispered as she tore apart the delicate bird napkin. “In a bar drinking,” Rolan Paxton repeated as he strode through the open doorway. “You look much better. How’re you feeling?” “Good.” “Are you up to hearing what we’ve discovered?” “Yes.” Sarita collected the tray and set it on a walnut sideboard on the other side of the room, while Rolan lifted a chair, then set it down with its back to her. He sat and rested his elbows on the frame. “Adria overheard her brother arrange a business transaction with James Lockheed, who we now know is your half uncle, Chang Ling.” “He’s actually related to me? Sarita told me, but he doesn’t look Asian.” “You’re right on that point. From what Geoff uncovered, Chang had eye and nose surgery at some point in the past, to anglicize his features.” “Dad never spoke about his family,” Su-Lin mused. “I can’t believe Emma lived and worked in Mayo and I never saw her or even heard of her.” “I must admit that part is remarkable. And you never saw her at Finklestein’s office?” “I never went to his office. He always came to the house. I think he felt sorry for my mother and me. After Dad died and my mother started having problems, I kept pretty much to myself.” She concentrated on the napkin again, finding comfort in the familiar origami shapes. “Here’s what we’ve pieced together. The treasury bonds were purchased by your father shortly after your parents moved to Mayo.” “Where did he get the money?” “When your dad lived on the West Coast, he received regular parcels from Vietnam.” “There was money in the parcels?” “Yep. His father was smuggling money out. We suspect that around five years after your father moved to the US, his father died. After he married your mother, Deshi Ling disappeared. He applied for a new Social Security number under the name of John Wayne Taylor, married your mother, and moved to Mayo.” “He stole the money,” she asked, frowning. “But if his dad had died, it’s not really stealing, is it?” “His half brother, Chang, didn’t see it that way. Put yourself in Chang’s place. He was earning the money in Vietnam. He obviously felt entitled to it.”

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“How did he find out about the bonds?” “Chang’s been searching for your father for years. He had all the information on your father’s real identity, Social Security numbers, et cetera. Your mother changed her will during the last month of her life. We know this because of papers filed in Mayo. Near as we can guess, somehow your father’s old Social Security number must have popped up.” “And Chang found us from that?” she asked, her mind reeling. “Do you know much about the Internet?” “Not really,” Su-Lin answered. “Why?” “I’ll skip all the technical stuff then. That search your lawyer did reached Chang in Thailand. He contacted Finklestein, told him he was your uncle, and flew to the US. Finklestein ran an identity check on Chang, who’d given him the name of a legitimate Hong Kong businessman. We think he entered the US before your mother died. Somehow, he managed to get her to go the bank and claim that first bond.” “Did my mother have the bond in her possession?” “We don’t know.” “She must have. That’s why he offered to go through my mother’s things,” Su-Lin said, as pieces began to fit together. “He was looking for the bonds. But I still don’t understand how he got her to go with him to the bank before she died.” “We’ll probably never know that either, but my guess is he doped her with the same stuff he had Casmir inject into you.” Rolan lifted a shoulder. “Did Chang give you any documents to sign?” Her stomach did a series of tumbling dives; she squeezed her eyes shut and ducked her head. “I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I? I was so happy to not be alone in the world. It was so wonderful to have someone taking care of me.” She met his gaze. “I signed tons of legal papers.” “We think one of them must have been a will, in which you left everything, including the treasury bonds, to him.” “But I don’t have the bonds.” She knuckled her temple. “That’s the thing, Su-Lin, you must have. At least Chang thinks you know where they are.” “Why this trip? Why this whole elaborate ruse?” She picked up a decorative pillow and squeezed the soft down, needing some sort of contact with things tangible. “This has all been carefully planned, Su-Lin. You didn’t just end up on the Glory.” “I don’t understand.” “Four years ago, a woman fell overboard during a cruise on the Glory.” Su-Lin’s eyes widened. “She washed up later. There was an investigation. Terry was cleared. But since he and the woman had been lovers and had had a public spat the night she disappeared, rumors have always dogged him.” “He chose Terrence deliberately. He was going to kill me and throw me overboard, wasn’t he?” A surge of anger flattened her mouth. “He planned to get rid of you, but not like that,” Rolan replied. “He didn’t want your body found. To cash the bonds, he’d have to prove his identity. If your body washed up, the bank would do a DNA test.”

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“He’s behind my kidnapping, right?” When Rolan nodded, she asked, “Why? How would that help him?” “Casmir’s orders from Chang were to kidnap you, drug you and keep you drugged, and deliver you to the captain of a Hong Kong fishing trawler in Marseilles. The Gypsies have been following you looking for an opportunity to snatch you since you arrived in France.” “Adria too?” Her lungs refused to accept oxygen. “They were all part of it, at first. The two sisters, Gitana and Adria, began to balk after you and Thomas gave them clothes and food.” “Where did he plan to have me shipped?” “Someplace where he could torture the location of the bonds out of you.” Rolan grimaced. “Probably rural Thailand. It’s a pretty lawless area.” “And Emma? How does she fit into all this?” He arched both eyebrows. “That one’s stymieing us. Obviously, she found out who Chang was. How she got him to agree to let her in on the scheme, we haven’t a clue.” “Who drugged me the night of the masked ball?” “Casmir was responsible for the welcome basket. Your uncle supplied it to him. His instructions were to leave it, watch until you’d passed out from the drugged chocolates, and then take you to Marseille.” “Why didn’t he?” “Adria didn’t know about the basket, but she wanted to thank you for the food, so she left the bottle of absinthe for you. She’d overheard you and Thomas talking about it.” “Why didn’t they kidnap me then?” “Terry found you before Casmir returned.” “Thank goodness,” she said. “If they’d kidnapped me that night, no one would ever have found me, would they?” “Probably not.” Another thought occurred to her, and she asked, “What happened to the welcome basket?” “When Casmir did return, he found out you’d been taken to the hospital, so he took the evidence.” “Your uncle and aunt had a solid alibi for that night in Grasse. We’re certain your uncle staged his chest pains.” Su-Lin’s hands curled into fists, and she seethed. “Do you know how guilty I felt about that? It ate me up inside.” “Solid planning. No one could have connected them to you. They had witnesses to prove they were in a hospital in Nice.” “I’ll never understand how a teenage boy could be so cold and calculating,” Sarita said. “That boy’s headed for prison.” “What teenage boy?” “Casmir,” Sarita replied.

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“Let me finish, honey.” Rolan lips curved as he shot his wife an amused glance. “She tends to be a tad on the overprotective side. Adria and Gitana decided not to go along with Casmir’s and Chang’s plans once they realized you’d probably be killed. But they dared not tell him that.” “That Gypsy boy’s damned lucky. I really thought Terry would beat him within an inch of his life.” Sarita quirked one corner of her mouth. “I guess Adria got to him. What a feisty child.” “You haven’t heard the latest, honey. Terry gave Casmir a choice -- jail or the Royal Marines. He’s signing up as we speak. Geoff and Terry have it all arranged.” Rolan chuckled. “Talk about being scared straight.” “Where is Adria?” “With Renée.” Seeing Su-Lin’s puckered forehead, Sarita added, “Jean-Michel’s mother. I gather you have plans for the girl?” “I think so. I mean, I guess it depends upon the bonds. Is she all alone in the world now?” “According to Casmir, their parents died a while back. They’ve been virtually homeless. You do have to give him some credit, honey. He’s kept Adria and Gitana alive and safe, and I’m convinced whatever he did, it was with those two goals in mind.” “Hmmh.” Sarita snorted. “I don’t care what you say, Rolan Paxton, I don’t want that boy around our son. And I’m sure Su-Lin will agree he’s not a good influence for the girl. Tell her the rest.” “I’m not sure if you knew, but the Glory’s been chefless since Sarita quit when she and I got married. Sarita hired a replacement who was supposed to arrive a couple of days ago, but the woman failed to show. Long story short, this was all planned so that Casmir and two of his colleagues would, on Chang’s recommendation, cater dinner that night.” “Austen should have known better. Since when does a caterer bring a trunk as part and parcel of their cooking equipment?” Sarita interjected with a huff. “At least Lolita had a fabulous time at the Cap.” “Lolita? A trunk?” she asked and rubbed one temple absently, trying to alleviate a sudden throbbing. “My replacement,” Sarita answered. “Some guy met her at the airport, told her the Glory was in dry dock, and took her to the Cap, all expenses paid.” “Oh. And the trunk?” “No one would suspect you were in it.” Even though a steady breeze played with the cream chiffon drapes fronting the open French doors, oxygen seemed to have evaporated from the room. “What we haven’t figured out as yet is Carol-Ann’s role in all of this.” “Is she really dead?” Although Su-Lin hadn’t like the woman one iota, she wouldn’t have wished such an untimely end on anyone. “Did she fall overboard?” “No. She was shot. With Terry’s gun.” “What?” Su-Lin scrambled off the bed. “I don’t believe it. He wouldn’t do that. I know it.” She searched the room for any sign of her luggage. “I have to go to him.” “Calm down, Su-Lin. Terry has an airtight alibi for that night.” “Oh,” she said and patted her chest, as if that would slow her racing heart. “All the people in the bar. Thank God.”

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“Actually, he spent the night in a motel room with Gitana. She should clear Terry this afternoon.” So many thoughts crowded and jumbled Su-Lin’s brain, she had to fight not to spout each one as it occurred. Then a refrain played in head. He spent the night in a motel room, over and over, until she wanted to plug her ears with her fingers. “He’s crazy about you, Su-Lin. And was probably devastated that night. Terry’s never really forgiven himself for what happened between him and Carol-Ann when he was a teenager.” Sarita’s light brown eyes glistened with sincerity. She gave Su-Lin’s shoulder a little squeeze. “Give him the benefit of the doubt. Harry talked to the girl. Nothing happened. And she is providing a solid alibi for Terry. That was her intention the whole while.” “According to Harry, her exact words were, ‘With that old man?’” Rolan said, his lips curving into a wide grin. “Then she added, ‘He’s even older than you.’ Harry’s mortified.” She couldn’t help but return Rolan’s infectious grin and concentrated on forcing the niggle of remaining doubt out of her mind. “It all seems so surreal. I mean, this kind of thing happens to other people, not to me. What happens next?” “The inquest, or whatever the French version is, will last the rest of today and part of tomorrow. Thomas will call us with an update,” Rolan replied. “I see.” She fiddled with the green top sheet. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to have a shower.” “Of course we don’t mind. We’ll leave you now.” An hour later, Su-Lin set out to find the swimming pool. The house proved a formidable adversary in that task, but she found the basement and an exit. Walking the perimeter, she discovered the familiar French doors standing open and heard splashing. Tony waved. “Hey, Su-Lin. Coming for a swim? It’s great, and it’s heated. See the steam?” He pointed at the far end of the pool where wisps of steam curled and floated above the still aquamarine water. “I don’t have a suit,” she answered and made her way to the tiled pool edge. “They’ve tons in the changing room over there.” Her thoughts tangential, careening from Terry to her uncle and aunt to the bonds, she entered the changing room and picked up the first one-piece, which looked to be about her size. This didn’t happen to people like her, an insignificant girl from Mayo, Ohio. Half the time certain she had dreamed everything thus far, the other half afraid she had descended into madness. “Come on in,” Tony called, his green eyes glinting. “Wanna race?” “Let me warm up first,” she answered, his boyish grin and exuberance infectious, and her lips crooked. She swam thirty laps to warm up. Tony joined her until he tired, chattering nonstop between strokes. “You’re good. I can only do twenty. But I’ll practice. Bet after a week I’ll be able to do forty.” Her mouth curved as she recognized a competitive spirit that matched hers.

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His green eyes narrowed when she won their race, and he suggested an underwater challenge. “Not today, Tony. Maybe another time.” She stood in the shallow end of the pool and squeezed the water out of her long hair. “I’m going to the Gypsy village. The fire-eater’s teaching me how to do it. Wanna come?” Tony asked as they toweled off. “Yes,” she replied, her heart skipping a few beats. Glad for the distraction, Su-Lin followed Tony’s lead through the rambling grounds. The heavy scent of pine filled her nose and lungs, and she inhaled, eyes closed, head tilted to let the sun warm her cheeks. Tony prattled the entire walk, jumping from one unrelated topic to another until her mind reeled. The boy’s determined optimistic view of the world, his unshaken doubt he could overcome any obstacle, buoyed her spirits. Possessed of a mischievous incorrigible wit, Tony had her laughing aloud in no time. She surrendered to the sheer joy of simply being alive and vitality thronged through her. She did a cartwheel. Tony did two. A front somersault. He fell on his backside attempting to imitate her actions. They progressed forward at a slow pace and entered the Gypsy village walking on their hands. When she saw the burns and blisters on the fire-eater’s mouth, Su-Lin refused to let Tony even contemplate imitating the man or learning the skill, and demanded the boy obtain his mother’s permission. Bickering about safety versus skill, they trudged back to the mansion. She managed to appease the insult to his masculinity by teaching him how to do a forward somersault. “Good to see you feeling better, sugar.” At the sound of Harry’s deep drawl, Su-Lin raised her eyes and shouted, “Harry, woo hoo!” Hooking a finger at his chest, Tony boasted, “I taught her that.” She ran forward and hugged him around the waist. “Are you okay? How’s Terry? What’s happening?” “Slow down, sugar. Everything’s fine. Terry’s tied up until tomorrow. Things don’t look good for his father, but Terry’s been cleared. He has a solid alibi for that night. Adria and Gitana are tight, and she stayed with Terry the whole night. Even made a show of getting the motel’s owner up to the room, so he’s a witness too.” “Thank goodness,” she said and breathed a little easier. “Who shot Carol-Ann then?”

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Chapter Eighteen  “I reckon James or Emma.” Harry dropped a kiss on her hair and let his arms fall away. “Although at the moment, Terry’s old man is the one the authorities suspect.” “You grown-ups always get so mushy,” Tony huffed. “I wish Mom had named me Indiana. I’m gonna find Adria and shoot some pool.” Su-Lin and Harry watched him sprint in the direction of the manor. “That boy is all energy,” he drawled and tipped his Stetson a tad lower. “Do you ever take off that thing?” she asked, pointing at his brown leather hat. “Showers, that’s it. Might be I don’t fool around with my boots on, but sure as a hen dips snuff, I do the dirty with my hat on my head.” “Was that English?” “No, sugar, that was Texan,” he replied, his mouth curving into a wide grin. “It translates to I even make love with it on.” “Sure, I believe you.” “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He had that familiar aw-shucks expression on his face. “Is the earl going to be arrested?” “Thomas is doing his damnedest to make sure he’s not. Geoff’s helping from the UK. He’s trying to get temporary diplomatic status for him.” A strong breeze ruffled his shirt collar, and he added, “Chances are Terry won’t be back tonight, sugar.” “I won’t fall apart without him, Harry. I’ll be okay. What about you and your daddy’s will? Any progress?” “Looks like I’ll go the classified-ad way using high-end society magazines. Geoff’s going to look after the legalities.” “A classified ad,” she said, scrunching her nose. “I can’t imagine what kind of female you’ll end up with.” Tiptoeing, she kissed his cheek. “You have everyone fooled, don’t you? With this big bad-boy facade? You’re a sensitive softie deep inside. You know the one thing I like the most about you? You’re kind to a fault.”

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She couldn’t help laughing out loud at the deep blush staining his face. “And that awshucks look is pure seduction. I’ll help you choose her, Harry. I have good instincts about people.” “Terry’s one lucky SOB,” he murmured and kissed her forehead. “Come on,” she said and captured his hand. “Race you back to the villa.” The rest of the day passed in a blur. Terry didn’t call, but Jean-Michel returned to the château before they sat down to dinner, and he joined them, taking the chair next to Su-Lin’s. “How do things stand?” “The coroner’s report came in before I left,” he answered. “Carol-Ann didn’t die from the bullet wound, Su-Lin. She died from an overdose of sleeping pills. There was no water in her lungs.” “I don’t understand,” she muttered. “She was found in the water, right?” “Oui, but she was dead before she fell or was thrown overboard.” “But the gunshot?” “The bullet’s definitely from Terry’s gun, but he has a solid alibi, and he wasn’t on board the Glory.” “And his father? Is he under arrest?” “No, chérie,” he replied, caging her hand with both of his. “I arranged for a hotel suite, ordered room service for Terry, Thom, and their papa, including cigars and scotch, and then I left. I did not want to be the fifth wheel tonight. The brothers and their papa need to come to some sort of understanding. I doubt we’ll see them before noon tomorrow. I predict aching heads and guilty consciences.” “I guess so. Do you think it’ll work out?” “It’s a start, n’est-ce pas? After all these years, they’re talking.” “And Carol-Ann’s not standing between them anymore. What she did was evil, JeanMichel, not just to Terry, but to Thomas, to his father, even to you and me. She made all of them feel like lesser men. Now they can start to heal.” “Healing will take some time, I think,” Miche said, and his sea-storm eyes took on a faraway film. “I remember the first time I told Thom I loved him. He said, ‘No you don’t, you can’t, no one could love a man like me. Find someone who’s good inside and love them.’” His gaze averted from hers; she saw him swallow a couple of times, and then he turned to her. “It broke my heart to see the pain in his eyes. He really believed what he’d said. But I agree with you, chérie. In time, they will both heal.” “I hope so.” Some unspoken agreement made them both turn to lighter topics for the rest of the meal. Of course, Tony’s boisterous attempts to be the center of attention also alleviated the slight tension in the air. A natural ham, the boy had the most astonishing repertoire of knock-knock jokes, and he soon had everyone holding their sides. Brushing her teeth later, she did a little happy twirl and prayed for similar dinners from now on. An unending supply of happy meals with loads of conversation and unexpected but welcome visitors.

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She fell asleep the minute her head hit the pillow. Sunlight warmed her cheeks, and a cool breeze nipped at one exposed shoulder. Su-Lin squeezed her eyes together and snuggled lower under the covers, curling her toes into the soft cotton oversheet. Something blew on the tip of her nose, tickling the spot. She twisted her nose left to right, sighed, and burrowed further under the warm down comforter. A lock of hair feathered her earlobe, and she rubbed it on her collarbone, frowning a little as the movement chased away the image of stroking Terrence’s groin, teasing him so he angled his wondrous weapon to her palms, but she kept them out of his reach. A soft brush on her nape made her eyelids flicker open, and her lips curved, because she caught a hint of cinnamon and orange. “Terrence,” she said, as strong arms encircled her waist and dragged her close. She wriggled her backside into his groin. “You’re a hard woman to wake, darlin’,” he whispered, and his soft breath fluttered up her neck. “I’ve been tickling your nose and cheeks for at least ten minutes.” Turning a little, she met his gray gaze and sighed. “I don’t believe that for a second, Terrence O’Connor. I happen to be a very light sleeper.” “Hah! How many mornings have I left you sleeping like a log without even stirring while I showered and dressed?” He nuzzled her neck and slipped her borrowed nightgown off one shoulder. “Miche thought you guys wouldn’t make it here before noon,” she said and tried to turn to face him. “What time is it, anyway?” “Uh-uh,” he growled. “This is my show.” “How did it go with your father last night?” His busy hand, which had slipped under the open scoop of her gown and found her breast, hesitated. He sighed, nipped and licked across her shoulder blade, and rose on one elbow. Rolling onto her back, she studied his face, the somber turn of his mouth. “Not good?” “Uncomfortable, awkward, very strange.” Three words, three buttons undone, as his fingers shifted the old-fashioned nightie so the white material framed her breasts. “So pretty,” he said and drew the tip of one into his mouth, tonguing it taut and stiff. Moaning, she arched closer, tangling her hand in his hair and closing her eyes as his teeth grazed her flesh, the sharp bite reflected in the sudden burning between her thighs. Her other hand met bare flesh, and her lids flew up. “You’re naked,” she said, smiling her approval. “This is what I was dreaming about while you were tickling my nose.” “Rubbing my chest?” he asked, his hot mouth covering her right breast while his left hand kneaded and caressed the other. “You were dreaming about rubbing my chest, darlin’?” He peeked up at her, and the wicked playfulness in his charcoal irises made her heart stammer. “No,” she retorted, squirming and tugging until the nightgown slipped past her thighs. “Rubbing this.” Her hand closed around the rigid length of him, and he thrust into her firm grip and groaned. Seeking fingers crept across her folds, and he muttered, “Perfect, creamy. See how easily I can do this?” Two fingers slid into her warmth, and her hold on his cock loosened, slithering up to the head.

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“You’re creamy too,” she whispered, feathering kisses on his shoulder, unable to gain access to more of him as his mouth and hand were still locked on to her breasts. “I…can’t…reach…you…anymore.” The words came out as a stuttered wail because another finger joined the happy two inside her. He began a slow, insistent plunge, withdraw, plunder, retreat that had her whimpering in Mandarin and English and some combination of both languages. Thrusting hips forward, she ground onto his thick, impaling digits. Switching breasts and hands, he suckled her, his tongue and teeth greedy to constrict the tip to exploding, while rolling the other nipple between his fingers, drawing rigid with small pinches. Tiny spasms hit her sheath; he drove in deeper, the calluses on the pad of his thumb igniting her hooded nubbin. Breathing fractured, she cried out and clenched and tightened around his fingers, hips arching off the bed, heels digging into the mattress. One knee nudged her thighs apart; the nightgown bunched at her ankles, and she kicked it off, desperate to have him inside her. The sheets tangled one calf, and she growled, “Damn it, get off.” Chuckling, he reached down and flicked the sheet off them, spread her legs wide, and positioned himself at folds so needy they wept for him. Leaning on one elbow, he met her eyes and ordered, “Tell me if it hurts.” That first feel of the head of his cock, thick and stretching, sent her wild. “All at once, please, please, it’s so delicious,” she babbled, trying to remember English, not Mandarin. “Are you sure, darlin’?” In answer, she grabbed the back of his head, slanted her mouth over his, and plunged her tongue into his mouth. The angle drove him a bit deeper, and she locked her legs around his waist and drove off the mattress to take all of him, grinding until they were skin to skin and he filled her, filled her. He grasped her hip and pounded into her over and over; her climax started and went on and on, a series of convulsions and explosions. Her mind went into suspense, body reacting and relishing, and every time she thought she couldn’t, she orgasmed yet again. His cadence increased, his grip on her pelvis almost painful, and he roared, his shouts echoing the succession of fierce, deep thrusts, which sent her internal muscles into cataclysmic contractions. Tiny snatches of reality intruded on her catlike torpor: birds whistling in the distance, the smell of bread, no, chocolate cookies baking, and her stomach growled. Terry started to rise, and she tightened her leg over his hip. Skin met and slid over the thin sheen of moisture coating both their bodies. She licked his shoulder. “I like the way you taste and smell after.” “I’m too heavy for you,” he said, stopped nuzzling her neck, and raised his head to meet her gaze. “Never.” “Trust me,” he ordered. “This will be better.” He rolled over and arranged her on top of him, legs straddling his hips. Reaching down, he toed the sheet up to one hand and covered her shoulders, tucking the ends under. One arm held her waist firmly; the other stroked her back. “Are you hurting?”

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“Silly man. I’m in ecstasy, not pain.” She kissed the center of his chest. “Terry?” Tracing a figure eight around his nipple, she met his gaze. “Do you think everyone will be nice enough to pretend they didn’t hear you just now?” He laughed so hard he slipped out of her, and she cuffed his right biceps. “That’s not funny.” “Considering you were almost as vocal as I was.” She clamped a hand over his mouth. “Was not.” He nodded, his eyes glistening, mouth twitching against her palm. “You don’t understand. I wasn’t, or else we won’t ever do it again unless I know the room’s soundproof.” Gray eyes shifted left to right; he licked the center of her hand, and she heard a muffled, “done.” When she removed her hand, the mirth left his storm-cloud eyes, the pupils dilating until she became convinced light couldn’t penetrate their darkness. “What’s wrong?” “We need to talk.” She could have sworn the ceiling lowered by five feet, bearing down on her chest. Chewing the inside of her mouth, Su-Lin squared her shoulders and said, “I know.” “Not here. You’re hungry. Let’s go get something to eat.” “If it’s bad news, I want to know now.” She stared at an irregular whorl in the paisley wallpaper. “We need to talk about what happened between Carol-Ann and me, Su-Lin. And I don’t want the magic of what just happened between us to be tainted by discussing it here.” “Okay.” “I’ll meet you downstairs in…” He checked his watch and added, “Fifteen minutes?” “You’re not staying with me?” she blurted, knowing a horrified expression had crossed her face. “Not from not wanting to, darlin’,” he replied, knuckling the side of her face. “You need to know everything first, and then you can decide if you still want to be with me.” “Terrence --” “Shh,” he whispered, placing a finger over her lips. “We do this my way. You have to hear everything first.” Terry took her back to La Bastide Saint-Antoine, the site of the masked ball. According to Jean-Michel, the boutique hotel served a scrumptious brunch. A waiter showed them to a secluded round table located on the outside balcony. While showering and dressing, Su-Lin had envisioned at least three dozen variations of what he wanted to discuss. Carol-Ann she’d already resolved in her mind. Terrence had been an impressionable adolescent who’d just lost his beloved mother. Carol-Ann had been the adult. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why he felt guilty. Well, maybe she did understand, a bit. “I can’t eat,” she stated. “Can we walk and talk first?” “Your stomach growled,” he objected.

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“It’s hungry, I’m not.” She stood and placed her napkin on the seat. A terraced, manicured expanse of lawn faced the balcony. Terry and Su-Lin walked to a curved staircase and moved onto a stone path leading a circuitous path through the gardens. “I was a little over fourteen when Father…” Terry said, cleared his throat, and continued, “Papa married Carol-Ann. Mama had died the Christmas before, and Fath -- Papa -- disappeared on a business trip a few days after the funeral. He stayed away for three months. After he came back the first time, he holed up in his study drinking until he passed out. It became a pattern for about a year.” “He left you and Thomas alone, two fourteen-year-olds?” “We had tutors, servants. We were never alone, per se, but we might as well have been. Thom had always loved reading and painting, and his tutor and he would spend hours in the attic with their damned canvases. Or he’d have his nose in a book.” “While you wanted to be outside.” She swept him a sideways glance. His posture remained rigid, hands locked behind his back, spine straight, shoulders broad and squared under a black sweater. “Yes, but with no one to ride with me, or play football, I found something that made everything a bit rosier. Father’s scotch. By the time Carol-Ann arrived on the scene, I was drinking regularly, daily.” “Oh, Terry, how lonely you must have been,” she said and grabbed his middle finger. For a second she thought he wouldn’t allow the contact, but then he twined their hands together. “She was fun, loved to ride, and indulged my every whim. And she was every boy’s wet dream. I had a crush on her from the start. Honestly, I still can’t pinpoint the subtleties of how everything began to change, although Thom claims her seduction attempts started almost immediately. Father was gone that whole summer, though he was supposed to come back and we were to have a short vacation together at the end of August. Suffice to say -- somehow she manipulated events so she and I went to Scotland for a two-week holiday.” “Terrence, I don’t --” He grabbed her wrist and shook his head. Clamping her lips together, she waited. “If it had happened once, maybe I could have forgiven myself, but it went on for a period of over four months. From that September until Christmas, when Father threw me out.” Terry halted and dragged one hand through his hair. “He wants me to call him Papa, which is what we called him as boys. I’m not sure I’ll ever manage it naturally.” “Are you finished?” She faced him. “No. That Christmas day, Thomas told me he was gay. I got roaring drunk and beat him up. Father and Carol-Ann had been at some event and came home in the middle of our fight. The rest, I think you know.” “Now can I speak?” Although she had planned what she intended to say, wanted to say it, fear rose up her gullet making the words feel like balloons blowing up. Placing a hand on his forearm, she looked into his beautiful gray eyes and said, “I love you. I think I’ll always love you. Carol-Ann was an

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evil woman who made you feel less than you are. You are all I’ll ever want in a friend, a lover, a companion.” She had more to say, but his mouth, hungry and desperate over hers, stopped all words. Powerful arms held her tight against his chest, no inches, no millimeters between them. His tongue swept into hers, and he tasted like Terrence, smoke and brandy and him. He broke the kiss, one arm snug around her waist, the other holding her head to his chest. The cashmere sweater he wore smelled of cigars and aftershave. “Say it again,” he growled. “I love you.” To her surprise, he dropped to one knee. “Su-Lin Taylor, will you do me the honor of marrying me?” Her knees buckled, and she grabbed his shoulders for support. Her dropped jaw just couldn’t seem to work back into place. Dark globes wove in and out of the morning sunlight and seemed to merge with poufy spots that blurred her vision. “Darlin’, you’re not going to faint or anything are you? Su-Lin?” The alarm in his voice escalated. He scooped her into his arms and peered down at her face. “Say something.” “I never faint,” she said and promptly passed out. “Su-Lin.” Two fingers tapped her cheek, softly at first, but grew more insistent in pressure. “Can you stop that please?” She tried to straighten, but Terrence’s arms formed a brick wall around her torso. Snatching at his patting hand, she caged it and muttered, “Any more of that and I’ll have a black and blue mark.” “I can’t believe you fainted,” he said, his tone quite definitely amused. “That’s because I didn’t,” she retorted. “I…don’t…faint.” His lips twitched. “Is this like the way you don’t bellow when you come?” If steam could come out of a human’s ears, it would have come out of hers; she knew it. Narrowing her eyes, she poked him in the chest and enunciated very slowly, “Precisely, and if any of our children ever think differently, you’ll rue the day.” “Darlin’, you have to answer the question before said children can be born.” He reached into a pants pocket. “I bought a couple of days after I bought the earrings.” He handed her a little black box. She flipped the lid up, peeped up at him, and exclaimed, “It’s a matching set. Will you put it on?” She noticed his fingers trembled as he slipped the ring onto her finger. “You knew, even back then?” “I knew that first moment in the steam room, darlin’. I knew I wouldn’t be letting you go. When Harry started talking crazy about marrying you for his daddy’s fortune, that was it for me.” “I knew then too, but I didn’t think men thought like that. I figured having a small part of you was better than having none at all. And you’re so worldly and so perfect, and I’m no one from nowhere.” “Never, darlin’, never. You’re the most precious gift I’ve ever had, and if I live to be a century, I’ll never have another treasure like you.” He brushed his lips over hers, a light delicate cherishing. Her stomach didn’t growl; it roared.

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Terry burst into laughter. “Do you know I’ve laughed more in the last few days than I’ve laughed in the last ten years? I don’t remember ever laughing after Mama died.” “Does that mean we’re actually going to eat?” “Come on,” he said, setting her on the bench. “Thomas said they do a marvelous champagne brunch, and” -- he winked -- “we can rent a room afterward and have champagne and dessert sent up.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Chocolate-dipped strawberries. What do you think, Ms. Taylor?” “Done,” she said, holding out her hand. “Darlin’, I’m never shaking on a deal with you,” he whispered, then added, licking the whorls of her ear between words, “I’ll make love on it, but never, ever shake on it.” Over brunch, Terry told her he’d already started preparations for semiadopting Adria. Semi because she adamantly insisted Casmir should be her guardian. Gitana, who would turn sixteen on her next birthday, they both decided needed to be in school. Su-Lin insisted on a quick marriage so they could be with Thomas and Jean-Michel for the operation and recovery period. Suresh had agreed they would share administrative expenses and procedures for their charity organizations, but Su-Lin’s and Terry’s would be headquartered in the old barn on the Fragonard estate. “Will you invite your father to our wedding?” she asked. “What do you think?” “You should.” “I’m not guaranteeing anything there, Su-Lin. It’ll be one day at a time.” He swallowed another bite of a Belgian waffle. “I forgot to ask. Do you think you could get used to the idea of being a countess? Thomas and” -- he took a deep breath and continued -- “Papa have agreed that the earldom is to pass to me. Thomas has no intention of producing an heir. He wants to marry Jean-Michel.” “Me, a countess?” She knew she wore a silly grin. “Me? The little nobody from Mayo? But it really won’t change anything, will it?” “Not really. It may mean spending more time with Father.” “I wouldn’t mind that, Terrence. It’d be wonderful if we could all be a family. JeanMichel’s seems so close.” “Family is very important to you, isn’t it?” Across the table their fingertips met, stroked. “In a way we’re both stunted creatures, having never had a family to grown up in. But maybe, between the two of us, we can make each other whole, form our own family.” She blinked and blinked but couldn’t hold back the tears. “That is probably the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever said to me, Terrence O’Connor.”

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Epilogue  “Will you stop pacing? You’re driving me crazy.” Terry dragged his hands through his hair. “And don’t do that -- your hair looks like you’ve been in a tornado as it is.” He glared at his twin. “What are you so worried about?” “How the fricking hell am I supposed to know? It’s not every day a man gets married.” “It’s not as if she won’t turn up. We’re in the middle of the Mediterranean, Ter, and your future wife is on board.” “When did you last see Su-Lin?” “When I checked on her, at your request two minutes ago, she told me that if I interrupted her one more time, she was going have Harry throw me overboard.” The door opened, and Jean-Michel strode into the room wearing a jaunty grin. “Honey, you’re not supposed to be here.” “I’m not a bride, mon amour. I came to let you know we’re ready to start the ceremony.” Jean-Michel fiddled with a delicate spray of baby’s breath decorating Thomas’s suit lapel. “She’s there?” Terry croaked, his heart thundering erratic jumps and stutters. “My stomach’s in knots. Jaysus. Anyone else seeing black spots?” “If you faint, Harry will never let you hear the end of it.” Rolan pushed his way into the Glory’s library. “And for Christ’s sake, don’t let Tony see you like this, man. He thinks you’re macho.” “He’s a freaking bundle of nerves. His hands shook so much he couldn’t get the blasted tie knotted,” Harry drawled. “Sarita will kill me if I ruin her meal. Time to get this show on the road.” “Too right, boyo,” Terry agreed and cuffed Rolan’s shoulder. “Well, brother,” Thomas stated. “Let’s get married.”

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“Oui, let’s,” Jean-Michel agreed as he slipped his hand into Thomas’s. Terry had grown accustomed to the Frenchman’s affectionate nature over the last couple of days. His initial impression of the man, frivolous, not around for the long haul, had morphed into a grudging recognition of Jean-Michel’s inherent old-soul wisdom. That he had managed to persuade Thom to wed proved nothing short of remarkable. That he and his brother were about to marry similar characters fazed him. Discombobulated when Su-Lin suggested the double ceremony, it had taken him a couple of hours to agree to the suggestion. Lost in thought, Terry strode down the Glory’s corridor on autopilot. As they reached the second deck, he caught a whiff of ginger. Since Sarita had told the new chef, Lolita, to take the week off, she had insisted on cooking the wedding dinner scheduled right after the ceremony. Terry searched the deck, his hands balling into fists when he couldn’t find Su-Lin. Fighting the urge to break into a sprint, he stalked to the railing and looked down. No sign of her. Fingers tangling in knotted hair, he spun about, and his vision collided with Irish spring eyes, lips curved in a smile so sweet; his heart butted his rib cage. An unbearable ache blistered his chest. She carried a small brass urn. He frowned. Su-Lin glided to him without a whisper of a sound as if her feet never made purchase with the teak deck. “While we were dressing, Sarita suggested I scatter my mother’s ashes before we begin. Is that too morbid?” He shook his head. Cradled her face with clumsy hands. “One kiss, darlin’. I need your taste.” Beneath his mouth, her lips opened to his. He sighed at the comfort and love her tongue wrought, at the peace she smoothed over the jagged parts of his soul. The strains of a guitar seeped into his mind. Terry broke the kiss and turned his head to the sound. Behind Harry, seated on a wicker chair, one foot propped on a coffee table, stood all the people in the world who mattered most to them. Thomas, Jean-Michel leaning into the curve of his twin’s arm, stood to the right of a round table on which stood a three-tiered, chocolate-iced cake, decorated with yellow and white rosebuds curled between ribbons of the same colors. On the other side of the table, Rolan held Sarita in front of him, hands looped around her waist. Geoff, Austen, Gitana, Renée, and her husband, Martin, and Nigel Gore formed a semicircle behind the table. Off to the side, slouching on the Glory’s railing, a sullen Casmir squinted in their direction. Tony, one hand tugging at his tie, followed Adria, who carried a delicate basket in one hand and scattered yellow and white rose petals before her with the other, walking directly to the two of them.

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“Doesn’t she look beautiful?” Su-Lin whispered. “I can’t believe the change.” Transformed into an elfin creature with navy-tinged ringlets hanging to her waist, the thirteen-year-old Gypsy girl strode to the edge of the deck and turned around to face the assembled wedding parties. “What’s this?” Terry fingered a gold locket resting below the hollow of Su-Lin’s collarbone. “You didn’t want to wear the necklace?” “This is my something old. You know, something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue,” she answered. “It’s the only thing I have left of my mother.” “Mama had one of these. She had photos of the two of us on the inside. Does this have one of your mother?” “Yes. Go ahead, open it.” His big fingers fumbled with the latch, and because the metal proved stiff from disuse, it took a minute to pry the locket open. A slip of paper fell onto his palm. “What’s that?” Su-Lin asked, her brow furrowing. At first he didn’t understand what the letters on the onionskin paper meant. Peering closer, he chuckled. “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle. Your mother couldn’t have been too strained mentally, darlin’. If I’m not mistaken, this is the number and pass code for a safety deposit box.” “Can I see?” she asked and took the paper when he offered it. “I think we just found the missing two bonds.” His lips curved.

Jianne Carlo Jianne Carlo knows multi-cultural romance. Born to an Indian father and a Hispanic mother intent on becoming a nun, she met and married her Dutch-bred immigrant husband in her last year at college. Their children check off the majority of the boxes under the category, Ethnic Origin. Add to this the fact Jianne grew up on a sixty by forty Caribbean island where the population mixture represents the world's religious, cultural, and ethnic diversity (and some mixtures no one's dreamed up) and you have a multi-cultural woman who believes the word 'Mutt' represents the best of human nature. For the factually inclined, Jianne has a Bachelor's Degree in English and Sociology, and a Master's in Management Science with three areas of concentration, Computers, Finance, and Statistics. She's lived and worked in Canada (Ontario, Vancouver), the United States (San Francisco, various small cities in southern California, Miami, and Parkland) and the Caribbean (Trinidad and Tobago, Jamaica, Barbados, Puerto Rico, Dominican Republic, Tortola) and South America (Guyana). Her passions in life center around her proudest achievements, a happy marriage (measure of happiness varies with level of irritation), and three grown sons of the finest caliber she's proud to call friends, although they're never allowed to forget the mom factor. Other areas of interest include, traveling, meeting new people, reading, dressage, all animals, cooking eclectic food, eating said food, and sipping good wine, while hanging out, ('liming' in Trini-speak) with friends. Jianne's proud to announce the only carbonated beverage she drinks is champagne. Who needs Coke? And you never want to be in the same room if she picks up a dart and aims for the target. Run for your life. Her colleagues do. Her family hides such instruments.