Hot Fantasies In Bed

An evidently unsatisfied lady curled into her boyfriend's arm and tried really hard not to allow the disappointment to wash over her.

Her lover's soft, even breathing filled the room even as he gathered her closer to his chest. His hand curled into her hair, stroking the back of her neck.

She pressed her cheek further against him and tried to relax. Tried to find some measure of contentment in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

"Did you enjoy it?" he whispered.

"Yes," she lied. Well, it wasn't really a lie. She'd certainly had worse, and John was a considerate lover. But he was extremely passive.

She sighed and rolled over on her back and stared up at the ceiling. What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she find satisfaction? Why was she so afraid to push for more?

"Baby, I've been thinking."

She turned her head back to him. Panic hit her square in the chest. Surely nothing good ever came of a man saying he'd been thinking. Men just didn't think, and they certainly weren't prone to expressing those thoughts over pillow talk.

He drew close to her and lay on his side, directly facing her.

"I've been thinking too, John," she blurted.

He raised his eyebrow. "Really? Okay then, you first."

She rose up on her elbow and stared nervously down at him. Her mind raced to come up with a coherent way to put what she wanted to say.

"You should plan our date tomorrow night. You will decide what we'll do, where to eat. And maybe afterwards we could come back here, and you could...I don't know, tie me up, or do something nasty. Whatever you want to do. It's your choice."

Could she have stated it any more awkwardly? She bit her lip as she waited for his response.

His eyes was wide opened. Was that surprise or was it excitement?

"Hmm, I don't get it" he said uneasily.

Definitely not excitement.

"I want you to take charge," she said softly.

He sat up in bed and rubbed his head. "Faith, where on earth did this come from?"

Her cheeks burned, and she swallowed. God, she felt stupid. Nothing like sending a man running in the opposite direction.

"Are you unhappy with the way things are? Is that what you're trying to say?" he asked.

She thought about lying and backtracking. It's what she'd done in the last relationship. And the one before that. But that wasn't getting her anywhere.

"I wouldn't say unhappy. Exactly."

"Then what would you say?" he prompted.

"I'm not satisfied," she said quietly.

"You mean sexually?"

She looked up to see him staring intently at her, irritation lighting his eyes.

"No. It's not just about the sex, John. If it was, maybe I could deal with it. It's more than that. I want...I want a man who can take charge. Make decisions. Be...in control. And not just in the bedroom."

"And I'm not that man."

She twisted her fingers together, bending and squeezing. "You haven't been."

He cursed softly under his breath. "You want me to change?"

She gazed sadly at him. "No. That's not fair. To you or me. I guess...I guess I just hoped maybe you could be that man."

"Damn it, Faith, you make it sound like it's over between us. What is this? Some fantasy you want me to act out? I can do that. I mean if you mean role playing, but it doesn't sound like you want a temporary situation."

She shook her head. "No, I don't. I want-no, I need this. And that's the thing. There have been men who would be more than willing to spend a night playing the dominant male, but it ends there. I don't want it to end." She leaned forward, willing him to understand. "Does that make sense?"

He scrubbed a hand over his face and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Yeah, it makes sense."

She reached out to touch him, and he flinched away from her. "I don't know what to say. Are you angry?"

A harsh sound escaped his lips as he blew his breath out in a rush. "No. Yes. Hell, I don't know. I feel like you dropped a damn anvil on my head."

He reached out and cupped her chin in his hand. He stroked his thumb over her cheek as he stared into her eyes. "I knew...I knew something wasn't right between us. I didn't expect this, but I knew you weren't as happy as you could be. Or should be. I want you to be happy, Faith. Hell, I want me to be happy. And I guess we just don't do it for each other."

He quirked one corner of his mouth up in a semblance of a grin, and she relaxed.

"You weren't satisfied either," she accused.

His smile turned into a rueful grin. "I guess I won't get into trouble for saying no then."

She flopped back onto the bed and let out a giggle. "Don't we make a good pair. Lying here naked after sex, breaking up."

He leaned over her, his expression serious. "You're a terrific woman, Faith. I'd hoped for more between us, and I admire the guts it took for you to tell me what you wanted."

"So you don't think I'm a perverted sicko?"

"No, but I want you to promise me you'll be careful. A lot of men out there would take advantage of the type of situation you want. They wouldn't have your pleasure or best interests at heart."

"Thanks, John," she said softly as she reached up to touch his face.

He bent and kissed her cheek before sliding out of bed to get dressed.

Faith sat behind her desk at Malone and Sons Security and nibbled absently at her pencil. The office was quiet today. Pop and the others were out on a job bid with the new guy, and she was left to ponder alone. Never a good thing.

John had left the night before instead of staying over as he usually would. But then breaking up had a way of pushing a man out of bed. She could console herself with the fact that apparently, he'd been as unsatisfied with her as she had with him, so she doubted he was suffering a broken heart.

She, on the other hand, was well on her way to major funkdom. Maybe she had been too subtle. Too afraid. Too ashamed of her needs and desires. It certainly wasn't something she'd ever discuss with her girlfriends, not that she had many. They'd probably vote to kick her out of the league of women upon hearing just what it was Faith wanted in a man.

Last night had been the first time she'd actually voiced the dark desires floating around in her head. Not that she'd gone into any great detail. Just the brief mention had made her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

But that had to end. Now.

Subtlety was not her friend. It wasn't getting her anywhere with the men she'd been involved with. Hinting and hoping wasn't the way. No, she had to be more proactive. More forceful. If she didn't make it clear what she wanted, then how could she ever expect to get it?

The ringing phone interrupted her melancholy train of thought, and she reached gratefully for it.

"Malone and Sons," she greeted.

"Hi sweetie, it's Mom."

Faith's heart plummeted. A sick curl began swelling in her stomach, and she had to physically restrain the urge to hang the phone back up. God, it had been a year since she'd heard from her mother. A year of no hysterics, no martyr acts, no lame excuses.

"Mom," she said faintly. "How are you?" Stupid question. Her mother was never all right. Always some crisis.

"I'm in trouble, Faith. I need your help."

Faith closed her eyes and bit down on her lip. Through the receiver, she heard a sound like cars passing on a highway. Was her mother at a pay phone? It wasn't likely Celia could afford a cell phone.

Don't ask, Faith. No questions. You don't want to know anyway.

"Faith, are you there?"

"I'm here," Faith whispered. If only she hadn't answered the phone.

"I need to borrow some money, baby. Just a little to tide me over until I get another job and a place to live."

Faith swallowed back the stark disappointment and closed her eyes to call back the sting of tears. As dumb as it was to hope that one day Celia Martin would get her act together, Faith clung to it nonetheless.

Why couldn't she have a mother? A real mother. Someone not so bent on screwing up everything in her path who could have a real relationship with her daughter.

"Faith, I really need it this time, honey. I'll pay you back, of course."

Of course. What a laugh. Faith's hand squeezed the receiver of the phone until a sharp pain snaked up her arm.

"Not this time, Mom," Faith said, surprising herself with her refusal.

The long, silent pause that settled over the line told Faith that her mother was just as surprised.

"But honey, I need the money to get by." Desperation edged Celia's voice. She became more forceful. "I told you I'd pay you back. I have to find a place to live, buy gas and food. As soon as I get settled and find another job, I'll be okay."

"That's what you say every time," Faith said quietly. "Only it never ends. I can't continue to bail you out. It's time you took some responsibility for yourself."

Before Celia could respond, Faith gently replaced the phone on the receiver. Her hands shook as she pushed away from the desk.

"Is everything okay?"

She jerked her head up as she heard the strange voice. Leaning on the doorframe of her office door was a man. And not just any man. He took up the entire doorway.

"C-can I help you?"

He stood upright and walked the remaining distance to her desk. He stuck out his hand to her. "Gray Montgomery. The new guy."

Her mouth rounded to an O. She slid her hand into his and instead of shaking it, he merely held on and squeezed gently.

"I'm Faith Malone."

He smiled, and his blue eyes twinkled at her. "I know."

She blew out her breath. "Of course, you know. I'm the only woman who works here, so I couldn't be anyone else."

"Am I interrupting anything?" he asked as he let go of her hand and gestured to the phone. "You seemed upset."

She shook her head and continued to stare up at him. Lordy, but he was an intimidating sort. "It was nothing. Was there something you wanted?"

The phone rang, and she jumped about a foot. The sick feeling in her stomach returned with a vengeance. It was probably her mother. She continued to stare at the phone, unwilling to pick it up, not wanting to deal with an overwrought mother who manipulated her at every turn.

A large hand covered the receiver and yanked it up.

"Malone's," Gray bit out. There was a long pause, and he looked up at Faith with that searing gaze. "I'm sorry, but she stepped out for a moment. Can I take a message?"

Please, please don't leave a message. She couldn't take some hysterical spiel from her mother. Not to a complete stranger.

Gray put the phone back down.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"No problem. Are you okay? I got the impression you definitely didn't want to talk to whoever was on the phone before."

She shivered as he continued to stare at her with those intense blue eyes. "I'm fine. Really. Now, was there something you wanted?" she asked again.

The corners of his mouth quirked up in an amused smile. "You trying to get rid of me?"

She flushed. "Sorry, of course not. I'm very glad to meet you. I've heard a lot about you from Pop and Connor. Are you settling in well? I haven't seen you around the office."

Shut up, Faith. She wanted to drop her head on her desk. She sounded like a complete airhead.

He cleared his throat. "I'm glad to meet you as well. I've also heard a lot about you from Pop and Connor. I'm moved into the apartment just fine, and this is my first time in to the office."

His eyes twinkled as he continued to regard her with a smile. Beautiful eyes too. Deep, rich blue. He wore his hair short, spiked slightly on top. Probably didn't have to do much more than rub a towel over it, wave a comb in the general direction and go.

"I was hoping you could direct me to my office?"

She blinked and yanked herself from her slow perusal of his attributes. She stood up, knocking her knee against the desk. Pain shot up her thigh, and she grimaced.

He raised a brow but didn't comment. She opened her top desk drawer and rummaged around a few seconds before pulling out a set of keys.

"These are the keys to your office and to the building. I'm sure Pop has given you all the security codes, but if not, I'll write them down for you."

She thrust them toward him, and his hand closed around hers once more. A warm tingle skittered across her skin as his thumb brushed across her knuckles. She yanked her hand back and walked around the desk toward the door. When she reached the hallway, she turned back to see him still watching her. She was pretty sure he'd been eyeballing her ass, but as soon as she'd turned around, his gaze shot upward.

"If you'll follow me, I'll show you your office."

He pushed off from where he'd leaned his butt on her desk and started toward her. She swiveled back around and walked three doors down to the vacant office that had been assigned to him.

She opened the door but didn't go in. She gestured inside with her hand. "Here you are. If you need anything, let me know."

"I'll do that," he said in a low voice as he walked by her.

Gray felt her gaze, knew she was watching him as he moved inside the doorway. They'd both done their share of looking. When Mick had given him details on Faith Malone, Gray hadn't expected her to be so beautiful. Or so innocent looking.

"I, uhm, I'll get back to my office now. I'll see you around. If you need anything, just holler."

He turned to see her back from his office and hightail it down the hall. He shook his head and smiled to himself. He made her nervous. She'd been on edge ever since he walked into her office.

Once he was sure she was gone, he backtracked to shut the door then pulled out his cell phone to call Mick.

"I finally met Faith Malone," he said as soon as Mick answered.

"And?"

"Not what I expected," Gray confessed.

"What do you mean?"

Gray paused and once again conjured up the image of her sitting in her office, her face a mask of upset. Her distress bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

"She's young. Pretty. Seems nice. Very wholesome looking. According to Pop she's extremely intelligent and as good-hearted as they come."

He heard Mick's sigh of impatience. "Have you gotten anywhere with the phone taps? Do you know if her mother's called?"

"I only just got access to the office today. I'll tap her phone here and at her apartment as soon as I can get in to do it. And I think her mother may have called today."

Mick's breathing ratcheted up, echoing over the phone line. "Are you sure? What was said?"

"I have no idea. I came in when she was on the phone, and she said very little. But she was visibly upset. She hung up at one point, and when the phone rang again, she refused to answer it. I picked it up, and a woman asked for her by name but refused to leave a message when I told her Faith wasn't available."

"Why the hell didn't you put Faith on?" Mick asked in exasperation.

"Because she wouldn't have done it," Gray replied. "Be patient, Mick. I'll get to the bottom of this. I promise. Give me a few days to get the taps in place. These guys aren't slouches. I'm going to have to be careful."

"Let me know when you find out something," Mick said.

"I will."

They rang off, and Gray shoved the phone back into his pocket. He stood there for a moment, pondering all that he needed to do. To his surprise, a sense of guilt nagged at him. Chewed on his ass like a pit bull.

He liked Pop. Liked the job, even if it was gained under false pretenses. He fit in well with Pop's team. Connor, Micah and Nathan were all his age, and they all had a lot in common. For the first time, he wondered if going back to the police force was really what he wanted. It wouldn't be the same without Alex.

Alex.

The one word that filtered across his mind brought a surge of pain, one he'd tried to block ever since the funeral, but lately he'd been unsuccessful.

Gray closed his eyes. The idea of Alex's killer out there. Free. Escaping from justice. Gray had seen enough of the bad guys winning in the sorry-ass neighborhood he'd grown up in. He wasn't going to let it happen again. This time it was personal.

"Uh, Gray?"

He looked up to see Faith standing in the doorway of his office. His gaze flickered down her long legs sheathed in tight-fitting jeans. The thin turtleneck she wore clung to her curves in all the right places.

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and he chased images of her body from his mind.

"What's up?" he asked, hoping he sounded casual enough.

"Pop called. He and Connor, Nathan and Micah are going to eat and want you to meet them for lunch at Cattleman's."

Gray shoved his hand in his pocket, reaching for his keys. "Thanks. I'll head over now. Want me to bring you something back?"

She shook her head and looked away, her cheeks stained pink. God, she looked so soft and feminine. He was half-tempted to reach out and touch a strand of her long blond hair. See if it was as silky as it looked. As silky as her skin must be.

He forced himself to look away, but then he heard her walk out of his office, and he glanced up to watch her shapely ass bob down the hallway.

He was attracted to her. Hell, what red-blooded man wouldn't be? But she was wrong in so many different ways he couldn't even stop to count. She sure as hell wasn't a girl a man played with. No, she had keeper written all over her, and he wasn't in a position to walk into that kind of situation. He'd scare her silly anyway.

With a shake of his head, he tossed his keys from one hand to the other and headed out to his truck. He'd need to find a time later when everyone was out of the office so he could tap the main line. If it had been Faith's mother calling today, she obviously hadn't gotten whatever it was she wanted. Which meant she'd call back.

******

Gray leaned against the brick of the apartment complex and watched as Faith struggled to heave two large grocery bags out of her backseat then nudge the door shut with her hip.

He started forward, reaching for the bags when he was close enough. Wide, startled green eyes flashed up at him as she took in his presence.

"Here, let me help you with that," he said.

She relinquished them, still staring at him in surprise. Though they both lived here-Pop owned the apartment complex and Connor, Nathan and Micah also lived here-he and Faith hadn't yet crossed paths since he'd moved in.

He made his way to her door and turned back, waiting for her to unlock it. She cocked her head to the side.

"How did you know which apartment was mine?"

"Your brother told me," he said with a shrug.

She frowned. "Connor's usually so tight-lipped. I'm amazed he'd tell you for fear you'd break in and murder me in my sleep."

Gray chuckled. "Is that your way of saying he's a little protective of you?"

"No, he's just cautious," she said as she slid the key into the lock. "And private. Very, very private. It's not like him to offer personal information." She opened the door and gestured for him to go inside.

"Does it bother you that he told me your apartment number?" he asked as he shouldered by her. "I merely offered to keep an eye out since my unit is so close by."

She followed him in and shut the door. "No, it doesn't bother me."

"Well, then, now that we've settled that, where do you want the groceries?"

She pointed toward the kitchen. "On the bar, please. I'll put them away later."

He took his time walking across the living room, glancing around at the interior of her apartment. From the impression he'd formed of her, he'd expected pink, maybe yellow, lighter pastels. Girly colors and decor. Frilly shit draped from one end to the other. He couldn't have been more mistaken.

The apartment was decorated in rich, dark earth tones. There was a decidedly masculine feel to the furnishings. Burgundies, dark blue, greens. The couch and love seat were dark brown leather, and they actually looked comfortable, like they were sat in and not used solely for decoration. She was an interesting contradiction. One that intrigued him greatly.

He set the groceries down and glanced over at the telephone. Looked like a standard land line. Easy enough to tap, only he'd have to get into her apartment when she wasn't around and make damn sure she never found out about it.

He'd gleaned enough information from Micah and Nathan to know that she was fairly routine in her comings and goings. Most weeknights she stayed home. Friday and Saturday nights she spent out with the guy she was currently dating, and Sundays she usually went over to Pop's. She occasionally spent time over at her brother's or at Nathan's or Micah's place, but for the most part, she appeared to be a loner.

When he turned back around to face her, he found her studying him, her eyes hooded and wary. There was a subtle curiosity in her gaze, despite her reserve. Like she couldn't quite figure him out. Join the club, babe. He hadn't exactly been able to figure her out either in the short time they'd been acquainted.

Her arms were crossed, folded protectively over her midsection. They inadvertently plumped her breasts, pushing them upward until they strained against her shirt. He could just see the outline of her nipples, pressing gently outward.

"Would you like something to drink?" she asked politely, though her body language told a different story. She wasn't comfortable with him here. In her space.

He smiled. "Thanks, but I have to go. I'm meeting Micah for drinks."

She pulled a face. "I know what that means."

He arched his brow. "Oh?"

She laughed huskily. "If it's Micah, it'll involve lots of gorgeous women, usually brainless gorgeous women, okay, make that half-dressed, brainless, gorgeous women."

"Sounds like my kind of guy," he drawled.

She flushed again. "I didn't take you for the brainless type."

The corner of his mouth went up. So she'd been analyzing him. Very interesting. And she didn't take him for the brainless type. Good observation, though it could have been a lucky guess. Frankly, he'd rather suffer a case of blue balls before getting his dick wet in a chick with more dead space than a black hole.

"I like the half-dressed part," he said with a grin.

Faith rolled her eyes. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

Ah, dismissed. He retreated. No sense spazzing her out. He'd meet Micah, throw back a few, then he'd head over to the office to tap her phone. He'd wait until she was at work to get into her apartment.

As he walked toward the door, her soft voice brushed over his ears.

"Thanks for the help."

He turned his head. "Anytime."

Faith watched him go with an odd hitch in her breath. She hadn't expected to see him again so soon after their first encounter, but then she imagined they'd be bumping into each other a lot, given they worked together and lived in the same apartment complex.

She knew from Connor that Gray was a Dallas cop on leave after his partner had been killed in the line of duty. According to Nathan, Gray wasn't much of a talker. He and Connor should get along famously then, because Connor was as tight-lipped as they came.

Micah and Nathan on the other hand...they more than made up for Connor's seriousness with their antics. Fun loving. Not a serious bone in their body.

Faith grinned. Just where Gray would fit into the eclectic mix was anyone's guess.

She turned to put away all the groceries, and when she was done, she poured herself a tall glass of tea before heading to her computer.

Setting her drink to the side, she slid into the chair and moved the mouse to bring up the screen. She opened her browser and typed in the address for Google.

Now, what to search. She sat there a long moment, staring at the empty search field. What was she looking for? Did it have a name, this nebulous craving twisting inside her?

Maybe she should be Googling what to do when you lost your ever-loving mind. Finally she opted to type in a variety of words. Maybe by narrowing her choices a bit, she wouldn't be inundated with superfluous information, and if she were really lucky, she'd actually get one or two sites that weren't porn.

Dominance. Control. Hmmm. What else? Oh wait, back up. Male Dominance. Control. Submission? No, that just sounded wrong. Okay, so she'd just go with Male Dominance and Control for now.

Oh, geez. Research statistics. Was this actually a research topic? Maybe she could find a hunky professor willing to bend her over and...ohhh the possibilities. She started scrolling faster, trying to outrun the erotic images swimming in her head.

Spanking. Tied hand and foot. A man having complete power over her. Bending her, making her submit.

Taking care of her.

And there was the biggest attractant of all.

She sighed as she clicked through countless useless pages. Impatient, she typed in another series of search words.

Dominance. Control. Bondage.

At least these looked more promising. She scanned the topics and clicked on a few of the offerings. Her brow furrowed as she began reading about female submission.

Honestly, she'd never considered herself a submissive person. Yeah, she wanted a strong man. Someone who didn't have to ask. Who was confidant enough to act. But did that make her submissive?

She wrinkled her nose. Well, it wouldn't hurt to read up on it. At least then she'd have a better idea of how to find this elusive creature: the dominant male.

God, she made it sound like an endangered species. But in today's world, she supposed they were. A dying breed. Emasculated by a politically correct society.

Great. Now that she'd figured out what she wanted in a man, she was going to discover there was no such animal.

She clicked until her finger was numb. Read well into the night, her eyes glued to both the fascinating and the downright bizarre. Honestly, she had no idea there were so many people out there who shared her desires, and certainly not so many women. But strangely, it didn't make her feel any less isolated.

She heaved a sigh as her tired eyes perused yet another listing. Just as she was ready to give it up for the night, an ad on one of the pages caught her eyes.

She leaned closer. Houston. The address was Houston. For an exclusive, private, members-only club. "Specializing in themes of dominance, bondage and a variety of fetishes guaranteed to satisfy even the most discerning palate."

One of her eyebrows went higher. Thought highly of themselves, apparently.

Intrigued, she clicked on the ad and was transferred to a surprisingly sophisticated website. Not your average trashy porn site high on shock value.

It was discreet, a website that could host a variety of different businesses. Subdued colors. Easy on the eyes. No pop-ups or flashing little boxes screaming that you just won an iPod.

Her pulse fluttered as she read on. Membership was exclusive and only open to a limited number each year. Security was a high priority, and the "club" wasn't a flashy, neon-sign-bearing business in the heart of Houston's downtown. Instead, it was a stately home in the northern outskirts of the city. Big wrought-iron gates. High security fences. No sign advertising what went on behind closed doors. Basically a meeting place for like-minded individuals.

She shivered. Could it be that easy? Somehow she doubted it. But where else was she going to start her search? Her cursor hovered over the telephone number listed on the site. She reached for the cordless phone she kept by the computer and punched the On button.

For several long seconds, she listened to the dial tone. When it started its obnoxious loud beeping to let her know it was still on and she wasn't dialing, she turned it off and stared at the computer monitor.

Then she turned the phone back on. And off. And on. Cripes. What could possibly be so bad about calling the place? It wasn't like they could reach through the phone, snatch her bald and leave her tied up and naked on the floor. Though, if the guy were hot enough, she might be up for it.

She touched the phone to her forehead and closed her eyes. Just do it, Faith. You just want information. They don't even have to know your name.

Taking a deep breath, she punched the On button and quickly dialed the series of numbers. She put the phone to her ear and squeezed her eyes shut in dread. Maybe they wouldn't answer.

Her stomach gave a painful lurch when a smooth male voice offered a greeting.

"Hello?" he said again when she didn't respond right away.

"Uh, hello," she offered, barely able to squeeze the words from her lips. "I was calling for some information. I mean, I saw your club, er uh, your establishment on the internet."

"What's your name?" the man asked cheerfully.

Damn. She guessed they would know her name after all.

"It's Faith," she said, not volunteering her last.

"Hi, Faith. My name is Damon, and I'll be happy to answer whatever questions you may have."

She relaxed a teeny bit. "Well, the thing is, you see, I'm not sure what questions to ask."

"Ah. Okay then let me ask you a question."

"Oh. Okay. I guess."

"What is it you hope to find at our establishment?"

"Not much of a loaded question," she muttered.

Damon chuckled. "Don't be shy, Faith. There isn't anything you could possibly say that would shock me. Or make me judge you. I can't help you if you aren't honest with me."

Her mouth went dry. Moment of truth. How to tell a complete stranger what it was she was looking for when she wasn't completely sure herself?

"I want..." She sucked in another deep breath and started over. "I want a man to take control. Take. Not ask. In all aspects. Not just sexually." She broke off, but still Damon waited, as if sensing she wasn't yet done. "I want to be taken care of," she finished softly.

"You want to be dominated."

The word still made her uncomfortable, but in essence, that was precisely what she wanted. So she muttered a low agreement.

"There's no reason to feel shame for your desires," Damon said gently. "A woman who knows who she is and what she wants is the most beautiful of creatures."

The compliment brought a delighted smile to her face until she realized she was giddy over a phone call with a stranger who, for all she knew, could be getting his rocks off while listening to her fantasies.

She cringed at that mental image.

"Membership is very exclusive here and offered sparingly. If you like, you can set up an appointment time to come and tour our facility. Once you've seen what we have to offer, then you can make a decision as to whether you'd like to pursue membership within our confines."

She swallowed the knot growing in her throat. "I'd like that."

"Fair warning. If you come, you should know what you're getting into. This won't be a trip through the halls of the manor where you'll look at empty rooms and unused furniture. You'll come at our busiest time. And you'll see all."

Her eyes widened, and she wondered just what all she would see. Her heart did a strange pitter-patter, and she realized she was excited. Looking forward to the tour.

"When can we set it up?" she asked.

"I can show you around Friday starting at 11 P.M. Things tend to get started late around here. If you give me your e-mail address, I'll send you detailed directions and the address."

Faith supplied him her e-mail, and they confirmed her appointment time. She thanked him for the information, and they rang off. She dropped the phone on the desk and leaned back, puffing her cheeks out and blowing a long, hard breath.

Friday. Eleven o'clock. She let out a small groan. She had all week to do nothing but wonder about what she'd see.

She licked her lips nervously then smoothed a hand over her bubbling stomach. What the hell had she gotten herself into? And worse, she couldn't wait to find out.

******

"Hey, baby doll," Micah Hudson said as he rounded the corner into Faith's office.

She smiled as she put down the phone. "Hey, yourself."

He flopped into the chair across from her desk, his long legs sprawling in front of him. Arching his hips up, he fished in his pocket before pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. Seconds later, he shoved one end of the cigarette in his mouth and flicked his lighter.

She emitted a sigh just as he inhaled like a man drawing his last breath.

"Micah, what have I told you about smoking in my office?"

He flashed her a sexy grin and exhaled a long plume of smoke. "Come on, Faith. You know I'm trying to quit. Down to just a couple a day. Pop gives me hell, so I can't smoke around him anymore. You're my only safe haven."

She rolled her eyes. "So because I'm a softy, I get to die from secondhand smoke inhalation." She rummaged in her drawer for one of the old plastic ashtrays she kept on hand and shoved it across the desk at him. "At least use this so you don't get ashes everywhere."

He grinned at her and blew her a kiss as he reached for the ashtray. She shook her head. It should be a sin for any one man to be so damn sexy. Micah was a man clearly unused to being told no over anything, and with good reason. What woman could possibly stand her ground against his wicked charm?

"You're the best."

He tapped his cigarette against the ashtray then looked back up at her, his warm brown eyes questioning. Still holding his cigarette between his fingers, he reached up and tucked his unruly hair behind his ear. His diamond stud earring glittered as it was exposed to her view.

A lock of hair, upset by his impatient shove, fell forward over his brow. He thrust his free hand through his hair above his forehead, pulling it tight against his head in a backward motion. When he let it go, the loose curls flopped over his head once more. She grinned at the disheveled image he presented. Somehow he just made it work. Messy was sexy on him.

"What you got going on today? Have you met Gray Montgomery yet?"

She cursed the rush of heat that flooded her cheeks and hoped like hell her fair skin, so prone to blushing, hadn't just given her away.

"Yeah, I met him yesterday. Showed him to his office."

"And?"

"And what?" she asked, arching a brow at him.

"What did you think?"

"Uh, I didn't think anything. He seems nice. Quiet. Maybe a little brooding. He should fit in well around here. He and Connor could be best friends forever."

Micah burst out laughing. "Just what we need. One more brooding bastard."

"Well, someone has to even things out. You and Nathan give poor Connor so much shit."

"Well hell, someone has to. Nobody should be that serious."

Faith cracked a small smile. Finally she started giggling and raised a hand to cover her mouth. "Okay, so he's a little uptight."

Micah snuffed his cigarette. "A little? You could bounce a quarter off his ass."

"Whose ass are we talking about?" Nathan asked as he sauntered in.

"Uh, well, Micah seems to have developed a fetish over Connor's ass," Faith said innocently.

Micah flipped her the bird.

"Jesus, man, you been smoking again?" Nathan asked as he wrinkled his nose. "It smells like a damn bar in here."

Faith heaved a sigh of exasperation and reached into her drawer for the air freshener. Both men coughed as she sprayed a cloud of the floral-scented spray.

"I wish you guys would get off my ass," Micah grumbled. "I'm doing my best."

"Yes, you are," Faith said loyally. "But in the future, I wish you'd do your best outside my office."

Nathan chuckled and shoved his hands into his pockets. His shaggy, light brown hair curled outward over his ears and flipped rebelliously at his neck. A goatee framed his mouth and chin. It was in need of a good trim. Green eyes, full of mirth, rested underneath a set of ridiculously long lashes. Lashes that Faith would kill to have. It was so not fair that eyes that gorgeous were wasted on a man.

"When are you going to get a haircut?" she asked.

Micah snickered.

Nathan ran a hand through his hair and looked at her in surprise. "What's wrong with my hair? You don't bug Micah about getting a haircut, and his is longer than mine."

"Because he looks good with long hair. You don't."

"Ouch," he grumbled, shooting Micah a resentful glare.

She shook her head. "I swear you both need a woman to keep you in line. And I wish you'd hurry up and find one so I can stop babysitting your asses."

"Or you could just volunteer for the job full time," Micah said, shooting her another sexy look. Damn the man.

"I don't think John would appreciate you propositioning his woman," Nathan said dryly.

Faith tensed for a minute and sat back in her chair. "Uh, about John."

Two sets of curious gazes focused intently on her.

"Is something wrong, Faith?" Micah asked. All the teasing had dropped from his voice, and now he sat forward, his face drawn into complete and utter seriousness.

She'd forgotten how protective they could be. That was usually Connor's job. As much as Micah and Nathan liked to tease, they still watched over her like a hawk.

"No, nothing's wrong," she said, injecting the right amount of lightness into her voice. "It's just that John and I won't be seeing each other anymore."

Nathan raised his brow in silent question.

"Relax. It was my decision," she said. "It just wasn't working. And don't you go interrogating him."

Another blush worked its way up her neck. The last thing she wanted was John to share the reasons for their breakup with Micah and Nathan.

"And for God's sake don't tell Connor," she muttered.

They both hooted with laughter.

"I'll make you a deal," Micah said, an evil gleam in his eye. "I won't rat you out if you don't rat me out for smoking."

She blew out her breath in annoyance. "You're such a manipulator."

He grinned. "But you love me."

She smiled. She couldn't help it. "Yes, I love you. Now get out of my office. I've got work to do. And so do you two clowns." She checked her watch. "Pop's going to have a coronary if he finds out you're both here and not out on the job."

The phone rang, and her stomach fell. She reached over to pick up the receiver but hesitated, willing the sick nervousness to abate. When she noticed Micah and Nathan looking suspiciously at her, she swallowed and yanked up the phone.

"Malone's."

Pop's gravelly voice barreled through the line. "Faith, tell those two lug nuts to get their asses out of your office and out to the job they're supposed to be doing."

She burst out laughing, her relief nearly overwhelming. "Good morning to you too."

He chuckled in her ear. "Good morning. Things going okay at the office?"