A Dangerous Attraction

Lisa Renee Jones

© 2003

A Dangerous Attraction

Lisa Renee Jones

Published 2003

ISBN 1-931761-71-8

Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 6280

Crittenden Ave, Indianapolis, Indiana. Copyright © 2003, Lisa Renee Jones. All rights
reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise,
without the prior written permission of the author.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Liquid Silver Books

http://www.liquidsilverbooks.com

Email:

[e-mail]

Cover Art

by Ariana Overton

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are

of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual
events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Chapter One

She felt his presence before she actually saw him.
The instant Meagan Tippan stepped off the elevator and directly into the

executive offices of Morrison Records, awareness danced across her nerve endings, warm
and alive. Her skin tingled as if being watched. Any other time, she would have
recognized its cause.

Known it was him.
But she was late to an appointment with her boss.
The control freak side of her personality didn't deal with that well. As she stepped

off the elevator, and crossed the expanse of the executive offices, she took a deep breath.
Her recent promotion to lead Choreographer for new talent meant she had high
expectations to meet. She didn't want to disappoint. This wasn't a good start.

Stopping in front of the receptionist desk, Meagan stood before June, secretary

extraordinaire, jack of all trades—altogether a nice person.

June smiled a welcome. "Morning Meagan."
Meagan tried to return the smile, but she didn't quite pull it off. Pushing a piece of

light brown hair behind her ear she said, "I have a nine o'clock with Sabrina."

A deep, masculine voice rumbled behind Meagan. "It's ten after nine. You're late."
Meagan froze. The tingling sensation identified. She knew that voice all too well.

Few people could rattle her nerves like the man who now stood behind her. Actually, she
didn't know of anyone else in the world who managed to have that power over her.

Slowly, she turned to meet the piercing blue eyes of Sam Kellar, head of security

for Morrison, and a sexy as sin, blond Adonis look alike. Once again, as always, she felt
like he saw a little too far below her surface, beyond what she allowed others to see.

It made her shy away from Sam, keeping him at a distance. She was a very private

person, especially where men were concerned. Meagan had seen her mother destroyed by
her father's dominating personality, and high-handed methods of control. Meagan
preferred to keep life sweet and simple. She didn't need or want a man to complicate her
plan.

She kept her relationships physical, not emotional. Something about Sam said he

was an all or nothing kind of guy.

In other words, not her type.
Her lips pursed as she met his gaze squarely and then offered her response with

sickening sweetness. "Thanks for the time update. Do you do weather as well?"

Delivered with precise sarcasm. Point for her.
She knew she picked fights with Sam. It was something she couldn't seem to

control. It was the only way she seemed to know how to deal with him. The man made
her feel conflicted, both infuriated and well, aroused.

It was quite irritating.
He stood in front of her, all six feet three inches of beautiful muscles, and smiled.

Not the least bit irritated, damn him. "I don't do weather, but there are a great number of
things I do quite well. I'd be happy to demonstrate."

He was taunting her, intentionally irritating her, yet her body screamed with

awareness. Their attraction to one another was always in the air between them, waiting,
wanting, and trying to control her. Fighting with him seemed her only avenue for keeping
him at a distance. But even that had stopped working. Still, she tried.

She might not be able to stop wanting him, but she damn sure wasn't about to find

out she liked him.

Meagan glared at Sam, her green eyes throwing daggers. "Yes, well, pardon me if

I pass. I'm sure with an ego like yours, the supposed list is far too long for my limited
schedule." With that said, she turned on her heels and marched towards a waiting room
chair.

As she sat down, he tilted his head back and laughed deep in his brawny, perfect

chest. His eyes were fixed on her, following her movements. She didn't have to look at
him to know.

She felt them, hot and heavy.
She cursed her attraction to the man. Lord only knew she had tried to ignore him.

Something about Sam always got to her. And it went beyond the sexy way his jeans
molded those really nice, strong legs. The ones she was avoiding looking at right now.

With an arrogant strut she knew came natural to him, he moved across the room

claiming the chair directly in front of hers. "You are no fun today, Meg. You're too easy
to get in a huff. Usually, you make me work for it."

She hated when he called her Meg. He made it sound like a lover's endearment. It

rolled off his tongue with a husky, seductive quality. "My name is Meagan, not Meg. M-
e-a-g-a-n, not M-e-g-a-n or M-e-g?"

He just laughed. He always just laughed. "Okay, Meg." He winked, and damn if

that sexy little action didn't make her stomach flip-flop with desire instead of agitation.

Trying to seem unaffected, she rolled her eyes. "Are you waiting on Sabrina?"
He leaned back against the chair and smiled. "I also have a nine o'clock with

Sabrina."

"Why would she book us together?" she said half to herself. Then she eyed Sam.

"Do you know what's going on? I hate surprises."

He chuckled again. "I have never met anyone as obsessed with control as you."
She frowned. How did he know that about her? "And you have to be the most

irritating, arrogant man I have ever met." She took a moment to glower. "Now that we
have finished with the pleasantries, what do you know about this meeting?"

He shook his head from side to side, a smile threatening his lips. "As I've already

told you, not a thing."

Meagan tried to relax, but he kept watching her. She wanted to look at him, but

she resisted. What was it about Sam that made her feel so, so ... so what?

He was very confusing. No, her reaction to him was what confused. One minute

she wanted to hit him, and the next she wanted, well, she wanted to get him naked.

She sighed inwardly.
Admittedly, there was something about Sam, dangerous and dark, yet quite

alluring. The flicker of intensity between them grabbed her like nothing else ever had.
Too strong, too intense, and too damn dangerous in some odd way she couldn't quite put
her finger on. It went far deeper than just physical attraction.

He kept his eyes on her face, as if he was trying to read her mind. It made her

nervous, and she never got nervous. "Do I pass inspection, Sam?"

He grinned devilishly. "Ah, Meg," he said in that damn sexy little way again, "you

always pass inspection. It has never been your looks that I have issue with."

Her eyes went wide. "What exactly do you have issue with?"
Suddenly, she had second thoughts about hearing his answer. She held up a

staying hand. "Don't answer that. I don't want to know. I might have to hurt you right
here in the lobby and that wouldn't be good."

Sam started laughing again. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees,

his eyes dancing with mischief. His voice was so very soft, and discreet as he said, "I
have issue with how you tuck your tail and run from me."

Her pulse jumped. Sam had never been as direct about their attraction. It was just

there, untouched, and unspoken. Her eyes went to his, searching, seeking. "We're like oil
and water."

He gave her a measuring stare, his eyes flashing with something she didn't quite

understand. "Is that what we are Meg? Oil and Water? I was thinking of something much
different."

His eyes held hers, drawing her into their depths like the deep blue sea. It was like

looking into miles and miles of pure, deep temptation. Ripples of awareness dashed
through her body.

Meagan opened her mouth to speak, not even sure what she was going to say, but

was saved when Sabrina opened her door. Waving them towards her office, she said,
"Come in you two. So sorry I'm running so late. Would either of you like coffee?"

Meagan was glad for the interruption. She smiled sincerely at Sabrina, who was

the best boss anyone could hope for. For two years now, Meagan had been
choreographing for some of the top names in the recording business, all thanks to
Sabrina's belief in her abilities.

"None for me," Sam said as he pushed to his feet.
"I would love some coffee," Meagan said, mostly to contradict Sam as she too

pushed to her feet.

Sabrina turned to June. "Would you mind grabbing Meagan and me some

coffee?"

"No, not at all," June said with a perky smile.
For some reason that smile irritated Meagan. How could anyone be that happy all

the time? Refocusing on Sabrina, Meagan realized that she too was pretty much the same
way, only she was blond and gorgeous as well.

Meagan sighed. She was just more intense about life than the two of them. She

couldn't help it.

Meagan found herself seated between Sabrina and Sam at a small, round

conference table. "I assume you are both curious as to why I invited you here today?"
Sabrina said, placing her entwined hands in front of her.

Meagan nodded. Sam didn't. See, Meagan thought, oil and water.
Sabrina fixed her gaze on Meagan. "Look, Meagan, I know you don't want me to

bring this up, but I feel I have no option. I believe you are in danger."

Meagan felt panic flare. It had never occurred to her Sabrina would bring up her

recent problems with an ex-employee. It should have. But it hadn't. She didn't want Sam
involved in this. "No, please. This is a private matter, Sabrina."

Sabrina's expression was grim. "You can't ignore these threats any longer.

Unfortunately, anyone near you could be in danger as well. I have no choice but to get
help. I've asked Sam here today to get his advice."

Sam's eyes narrowed as they darted to Meagan's face. "What are you two talking

about?" He spoke to Meagan, not Sabrina.

Meagan looked at Sabrina. "It's nothing."
"Nothing?" Sabrina demanded though her voice stayed steady, calm. "You have a

stalker, Meagan," Sabrina turned to Sam. "I've told her to go to the police, but she
refuses."

Sam held up a hand. "Back up. Who is this stalker?" He looked at Meagan. "Do

you know this person?"

Sabrina answered. "One of the dancers she had on a video shoot has become

obsessed with her. We fired him, but he's still won't leave her alone. He calls her, sends
her gifts, and even follows her."

Sam didn't like the sound of this. The guy sounded like a nutcase. He was

sincerely worried about Meagan. He had good instincts about things and something felt
bad about this.

He kept his voice low and quiet as he addressed Meagan directly, willing her to

look at him. "How long has this gone on, Meagan?"

Meagan looked up at him, hesitating, and then saying, "Two months."
His brows drew together. "And you haven't called the police?"
Meagan flicked a quick look at Sabrina and then refocused on Sam. "Actually, I

did. Last week."

"And?" Sam prodded gently, glad Sabrina was staying quiet. He wanted to keep

Meagan talking.

Meagan's voice shook ever so slightly. "I took out a restraining order, but he still

keeps showing up. At the store, at the gym, anywhere I am. He just keeps a distance, but
makes sure I see him."

Sam eyed her a moment, trying to gage how serious the situation was, and how

much she was holding back. Meagan was tough. But he could tell she was also scared.

The look in her eyes and the slight tremble of her hands were dead giveaways.

"You need protection."

"No," Meagan said immediately, lips pursed. "I'm fine."
Sabrina interjected. "I have to insist you let Sam help with this Meagan. Everyone

you are working with will be in danger along with you."

Meagan looked at Sam, a plea in her eyes. "This is crazy. What can you do that

the police haven't already?"

"Plenty," he said without hesitation. "Namely, give you around the clock

protection."

"I can't live my life under lock and key," she argued.
He understood how captive she felt. Still, there was no other option. Not until he

had time to do some checking on this guy. "I'll figure out how to get rid of this guy,
Meagan. You have my word."

She stared at him a long moment, and then nodded, her eyes seeming to soften a

bit.

Sam looked at Sabrina. "I need this guy's Human Resources file. What's his

name?"

Sabrina answered. "Nathan Carrington."
Sam looked at Meagan. "What's your schedule today?"
She responded reluctantly. "I'm at the west end dance studio the rest of the day."
Sam nodded. "I'll have a guard posted there. We will need to meet later in the day

to discuss a larger scale plan. I'll stop by the studio."

Meagan didn't think the meeting would ever end. The minute she stepped out of

Sabrina's office, and Sam turned to speak to Sabrina, she stepped towards the elevator.

"Meagan, wait."
She heard Sam calling her, from not far behind, but she ignored him. Damn him,

he could go to hell. The last person she wanted running her life was Sam Kellar.

All this time avoiding him and now she had been handed over to him, at his beck

and call. She hit the elevator button feeling a rush of relief as the door opened
immediately. Stepping inside the car, she watched as the door shut in Sam's face. She
caught a quick glimpse of his scowl.

She didn't care. Let him fume.
She needed some space to figure out how to deal with him. Anxiously, she

watched the elevator lower through the floors, cursing her predicament the entire ride.

She made her way to her car, already feeling the dampness of perspiration on her

skin, compliments of the scorching Los Angeles sun. She was reaching for the door
handle when she felt his hand on her arm.

Sam's voice held a hint of authority, and a ton of determination. "Not so fast,

Meagan."

He used her full name. Couldn't be a good sign.
He turned her to face him, hands on her shoulders, branding her with their heat.

He was close. Too close for comfort.

As their eyes locked, sparks danced between them, shocking her with their

intensity. What passed between them had nothing to do with anger, and everything to do
with the close proximity of their bodies.

At that moment, Meagan knew Sam was the biggest threat she had to face. He

was a warrior of sorts, tearing down her carefully placed shields, and making her want
him.

Damn the man.

Chapter Two

Meagan stared into Sam's too blue eyes, feeling spellbound in his gaze. She could

feel the heat of his hands even through her clothes. Desperate for distance, she tried to
shrug off his hands. He held her firmly, yet his touch was surprisingly gentle as well.

"Let me go, Sam," she whispered. "I need some space right now." Damn, she

might cry. It was so unlike her. She didn't get all weak and wet eyed.

Sam's voice was oddly tender. "I'm worried about you."
"Worried about me?" she challenged in disbelief, trying to grab hold of anger so

she could fight the tears. "Why? Why would you of all people worry about me?"

He stared at her a long moment, his eyes dark and intense. "Meagan," he softly

said. Again, he used her full name, but he didn't seem angry at all. It took her off guard.
"We both know there's something between us. I am worried about you. It's past time that
we talk. Have dinner with me tonight. In the meantime, I'll dig up everything I can on this
guy bothering you."

She needed to deny his words even though she knew they were true. This thing

between them, whatever it was, was too intense, too deep. "There's nothing between us,
Sam," she said softly, trying to convince herself, not him.

A muscle tensed in his jaw. "Nothing between us?" he demanded in a deep,

dangerously quiet voice. His eyes were darker now, probing her face.

She met his gaze, but she didn't answer.
Before she knew his intent, he pulled her into the circle of his arms. One of his

hands slid to her back, pressing her soft curves against his hard body.

He dipped his head, letting his lips linger just above hers, so close she could feel

his breath mingle with her own. Intimate. Hot. Tempting. Her hands rested on his chest
and she meant to push him away, but she didn't. No, she couldn't.

His voice was seductive and husky, as his breath brushed her lips, warm and

inviting. "There is something between us, Meg."

Her lashes fluttered to her cheeks, as his lips brushed hers in a whisper of a touch.

A sigh escaped her mouth of its own accord. He did something to her, this man. So
intense was her reaction to the mere brush of his lips, that she couldn't fathom what it
would be like to make love to him.

He was like fire racing through her veins. She felt the rush all the way to her toes.

Not only did she want him, she was wet with want.

It was almost embarrassing.
He slanted his mouth over hers and she felt his tongue dip in her mouth, barely

there, but oh, so arousing. She tried to keep herself from responding, but she couldn't
resist touching her tongue to his. All it did was make her want more.

As if he read her mind, he pulled her that much closer, kissing her with such

delicious thoroughness her head was swimming. When he lifted his lips from hers,
passion etched his features. "There is something between us."

Meagan dropped her head to his chest trying to gather her composure, but not

wanting to break the contact with him. His hand slid down the back of her head, gently
stroking her hair, making their intimacy seem that much more intense.

Slowly, she raised her head and looked up at him, her stomach and nerves in

knots. "You are confusing the hell out of me, Sam. One minute I want to hit you and the
next..."

He smiled softly while trailing his fingertips down her cheek. "I know the feeling.

You do the same thing to me." He paused seeming to contemplate his words.

"Look," he said finally, "I'll come by rehearsals later and we'll talk about dinner,

all right?"

Her mind told her to say no. No, it wasn't all right. Instead, she nodded in

agreement, unable to find her voice.

He released her, taking a step back, and Meagan wished he hadn't. Her mouth was

swollen from his kisses, making her run her tongue across her bottom lip.

His eyes followed the action, and she could almost feel the searing heat of his

thoughts. He stood there, watching her, unmoving for far too long. Then, without another
word, he turned and walked back towards the building. Meagan leaned against her car,
and let out a long breath she didn't even realize she'd been holding, as she watched his
sexy gait across the parking lot.

Sam Kellar was temptation and trouble, wrapped together in one sinfully hard to

resist package.

* * * *

It was just past the noon hour when Sam pulled into the parking lot of the west

side studio. Meagan had been on his mind all morning. Kissing her had left him more
shaken than he could ever have imagined. She was like a jolt of lightening searing his
nerve endings. He could still taste her, sweet as honey.

He wished like hell he didn't work with Meagan. It complicated things, made

them potentially messy. He didn't like messy. Never had, never would.

Years in the Special Forces had taught him messy was dangerous. Just one of the

reasons he had stayed away from Meagan, even intentionally agitated her. It was easier to
have her angry than soft and sexy. Then again, lately, even angry turned him on.

After kissing her today, no way in hell was he about to go without having her. He

was hard just thinking about having her sweet little tongue in his mouth.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
No. No way could he pass on Meagan any longer. He had to have her. Naked,

beneath him, and soon.

Walking across the parking lot, he contemplated what it was about Meagan that

made her so intriguing. He liked her toughness, but even more, he liked what he knew
was a soft side hidden just beneath the surface.

She was a complex puzzle he found alluring, almost addictive.
Stopping at the door of the studio, he said a few words to the guard, one of his

employees. Then, he pulled open the door, stepping into the large, box style room. His
boots scraped soundless on the wooden floors, muffled by the loud music filling the air.

Meagan stood in front of a group of dancers shouting directions. She didn't act as

if she knew he was there. Not good. It was clear she was focused on her task, not aware
of her surroundings. Anyone could have walked in and she wouldn't have known.

He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms in front of his body, watching her

efforts with interest that went far beyond the professional realm. Everything about
Meagan turned him on.

When she finally called for a break, Sam watched as she turned. He knew the

exact moment she spotted him, could see the flash of her eyes. The awareness between
them was like a live charge. Their eyes locked and held for long moments.

"Lunch Break," Meagan yelled to the group without looking away from Sam.
Then, abruptly, she averted her gaze, released her hair from a clasp and grabbed a

towel. He pushed off the wall, and walked towards her, pleased to see the other dancers
heading towards the door.

He wanted her alone.
The towel moved across her damp skin drawing his eyes like a magnet. The tiny

droplets of liquid clinging to her skin mesmerized him. She wore snug fitting exercise
shorts and a small second skin tank top. The outfit left little to the imagination.

His eyes went to her legs, dancer's legs, slender yet defined. He wanted to run his

hands down them, taste them. She tipped a bottle of water back, drinking. When she
looked at him, a few droplets were left on her lip, tempting him to run his tongue across
it.

He stepped to her, close, settling for running his thumb across her bottom lip,

feeling her shock and pleasure in her small intake of breath.

God, he wanted to kiss her, but he forced himself to resist. It was bad enough that

he had half accosted her in the Morrison parking lot. "Hey," he said softly.

She was looking at him, quietly assessing his features. She seemed unsure where

she stood with him, or maybe not. She never seemed unsure. Maybe it was his
imagination. He smiled at her and she seemed to relax a bit.

Her voice was soft. "Hey."
He didn't step away from her, liking the feel of her nearness, so close he could

lean forward and feel her soft curves against his body. She didn't make a move either, as
if she was feeling the same thing.

"How are rehearsals going?"
She half smiled, and delicately cleared her throat as if she was having trouble

finding her voice, "Rough. This group is shooting a video in a couple of days, and they're
not ready."

"You'll get them there," he said with confidence. Meagan was known to be the

best of the best.

Something flashed in her eyes. "I don't know if you've ever given me a

compliment."

He didn't deny what was the truth. He had expended all his efforts to resisting her.

"I guess I have lost time to make up for, then, don't I?" He didn't give her time to
respond. "Have dinner with me tonight," he said softly.

She hesitated, and then said, "I won't even be done here until around nine

o'clock."

Not a no. That was good. "Nine works. I'll pick you up here."

She sucked in a shaky breath. "I don't think that's such a good idea."
He let her see what was in his eyes, letting her view his desire fully. "Probably

not, but I don't care anymore."

Confusion darted through her eyes. "Why now, Sam?"
He gave her a half smile, showing his dimple, and then lightly running his fingers

down a strand of her hair. His fingers traced her cheek, lingering on her skin.

"I'm tired of pretending I don't want you," he said honestly.
"Sam..."
His hand went to her waist. "Just say yes, Meagan."
She shut her eyes. "This is such a bad idea."
Again, not a no. Encouraged, he leaned down so that his mouth was right next to

her ear. "I have a feeling bad is going to feel real good. Say yes."

She nodded, not saying a word, but it was enough. He pulled back and looked at

her. "I'll be here at nine."

"I have my car. I can just meet you."
"I'd feel better if I at least follow you. I don't like the idea of you leaving here that

late with all you have going on right now." He hesitated, not wanting to frighten her or
make her feel he was ordering her around. Both were bad things with Meagan. "It's a red
flag to me that this guy knows you went to the police, but hasn't backed off."

She stared at him a moment, then she laughed, surprising him. It was the last

reaction he expected from her. His brow inched up in question. "I'm not going to argue.
Doesn't that strike you a bit funny?" She didn't expect him to answer because she
continued. "I always argue with you."

He smiled. "What makes me so lucky today?"
Her smile disappeared as if it had never existed. "As much as I hate to admit it,

this guy is getting to me."

His smile faded just as quickly. It took a lot for her to admit that to him. "It'll be

fine. You have protection now. I don't like guys who harass women. He'll have to go
through me to get to you."

Then, as if she had forced herself to push the fear away, she grinned, her shields

back up. "Maybe I think I need your protection. But I do wonder who will protect you
from me?"

"Oh, sweetheart," he said softly, "give me all you got. I promise I can handle it."

* * * *

When Sam arrived at the studio later that evening it was exactly nine o'clock.

Meagan stood with the security guard, waiting on him and fighting a case of nerves. Only
Sam did that to her. She'd never understand it.

She walked towards his car, workout bag over her shoulder, meeting him in the

parking lot rather than making him come to her. He stepped out of his car, looking like
sin incarnate, in faded jeans, and a black t-shirt.

Pulled tight across his multitude of muscles, a simple t-shirt never looked so

good. He smiled at her as he reached for her bag, clearly intending to take it off her
shoulder.

His smell, warm and masculine, wrapped around her, making the temptation of

the evening feel all the more alive. "Thanks," she murmured as his hand slid the strap
over her shoulder, and then fleetingly brushed her breast.

Meagan sucked in a surprised breath as her nipple ached and pebbled. His hand

froze on her arm his eyes dropped to where he had touched. She didn't have to look to
know the thin pink t-shirt she wore made her body's reaction more than evident.

Slowly his eyes lifted to hers, smoldering. She couldn't help but think about what

it would be like to have him truly touch her breasts. Was he thinking the same thing?

He glanced over his shoulder towards the security guard. Apparently satisfied

they wouldn't be seen, he dipped his head, bringing his lips to hers. It was a touch as light
as a whisper, but oh so tantalizing. It promised soft sighs, tender caresses, and as much
pleasure as she could handle.

He let his mouth linger above hers, as if he really wanted to kiss her again. She

could feel the heat and tension in his body. She wanted him to kiss her again, to taste him
more fully.

After several heartbeats, he leaned back slightly, looking her in the eyes. "I think

we should go to your place, and order dinner in."

The ache between her thighs intensified. She was going to have sex with Sam

Kellar. She knew it. He knew it. They both wanted it.

"Okay," she said because nothing else seemed to form on her lips.
A silent agreement passed between them, keeping their eyes locked for long

moments. They both knew what was going to happen at her place. It had been inevitable
from the day they met. It was an absolute tonight.

He tossed her bag over his shoulder as she turned towards her car using her key

clicker to unlock the doors. Meagan opened the driver's door, and blinked. There, in the
seat, was a single red rose. She reached for it assuming Sam had put it there, a slight
smile playing on her lips.

As soon as she lifted it, her eyes went wide. The bottom side of the rose had been

burned. She dropped it, taking an instinctive step backwards, and right into Sam's arms.
He held her close, offering the much needed reassurance, silently telling her he was there
for her, and she was safe.

He'd seen the rose, she knew he had, because of the way he held her, strong and

secure. He pressed his lips to her temple for a whisper of a moment. "Here's what we're
going to do, Meg." His voice was calm and in control, and for once she was happy to
have someone else to lean on. He turned her to face him, his hands on her shoulders. "I'm
going to call and get someone out here to check for prints. Then we are taking my car and
getting the hell out of here. Okay? I have a friend at the police department that will make
this fast and painless."

* * * *

It was an hour later when Meagan handed Sam the keys to unlock her little

beachfront cottage. She lived in a rather secluded area outside of the city, which had
never seemed a problem.

Until now.

Now, secluded seemed dangerous. There was something to be said for having

close neighbors when you were being stalked by a crazy man.

She had filed a police report and watched as they dusted for prints. The chances

they would find any, per the police, was zero to none. There wasn't much they could do.
Thanks for the boost of confidence officer, she had said. No wonder Sabrina thought she
needed help outside of the police.

Sam disappeared inside the house, making her wait just inside the entranceway.

He didn't want to leave her outside alone, but he wouldn't let her past the foyer until he
checked things out.

When he returned, he walked up to her and pulled her into his arms. She had

never had anyone look out for her before. It felt strange, and oddly nice. "All clear," he
told her.

"Thanks for checking it out." She rested her balled up hands on his chest, resisting

the urge to flatten her palms and feel the ripple of muscle beneath his shirt.

Fear should have killed her sex drive. Instead, she found herself wanting to get

lost in something that would make her forget. Sam was that something.

"Hungry?" he asked.
"Not for food," she whispered looking into his eyes.
Surprise registered in his gaze. "I thought..."
"Wrong," she finished for him. Once she decided to do something, she did it. He

wasn't going to be an exception. "I just want to forget about that damn rose. Make me
forget Sam."

His features were etched with seriousness, but as she pressed closer to him she

could feel his arousal press against her stomach. He wanted this too, but he focused on
her safety rather than his desire. "You can't Meg. This guy is dangerous."

It touched her that despite her obvious offer, he didn't just accept. He was worried

about her. That dreaded feeling of actually liking him started to grow.

"So are you," she whispered as her fingers walked up his chest so she could wrap

her arms around his neck, "but I don't seem to care anymore."

Chapter Three

Sam stared down at Meagan, her soft curves pressed against his body. His hands

sat motionless on her waist. "This has been a rough night for you, Meg. I don't want
regrets."

She pushed to her tiptoes and brought her mouth so close to his, he could

practically taste her. "No regrets, Sam. I want you."

Still he hesitated, fighting the awareness and need spiraling through his body like

a raging storm. The last thing he wanted was for her to fall into his arms for the wrong
reasons. He'd waited this long. He'd wait a little longer.

It might half kill him, but he would wait. "Just this morning you weren't sure."
"Sam," she said and then brushed her lips across his, threatening his restraint. "I

wanted you then. I want you now. I don't know how else to convince you."

He was a man. No more, no less. Very human. Very hard. Very out of questions.

His arms slid around her back, pulling her closer as his mouth claimed hers. He kissed
her wildly, with ravenous hunger that had built for far too long.

His hands slid down her skimpy white shorts.
The ones that had given him a hard on in the parking lot. The ones that had drawn

his attention to her long legs, making him ache to have them wrapped around him.

His hands cupped the perfect roundness of her butt. Damn, he had wanted to do

that for a long time. He trailed his mouth down her jaw, to her neck, and behind her ear.

She moaned softly, making him smile against her skin. "Do you have any idea

how long I've wanted to touch you like this, to hear you make soft little sounds like that?"

She moved slightly, fixing him in her gaze. "Come to the bedroom."
Slowly, he let his hands slip from her body, only to have her take one of them in

her own. She looked at him, all sexy eyed, and brought his hand to her mouth. Her lips
brushed one of his knuckles, gentle, seductive, warm and wet.

It was a promise of so much more, and his body understood the message. It made

him hotter and harder.

She smiled softly as if she knew what he was feeling. Maybe she did. He hoped

she did. He wanted her to know what she did to him. He had every intention of giving
back every bit of pleasure she gave him, and then some.

He wanted to please her, to make her come as she called out his name. Pleasing

his partners had always been important to him. With Meagan, it was more essential he
please her, than be pleased. Why, he didn't know. It just was. And right now he was
beyond figuring out two plus two, let along what he felt beyond desire.

She motioned towards the other room while sliding her hand into his. He

followed, more than willing to be led, as long as it resulted in her naked and in his arms.

* * * *

She didn't turn on the lights and he didn't ask her to. He wanted to see her, but if

she needed the shield of shadows he would give it to her.

This time.
He could still see her, which was all that mattered. The curtains were open, letting

the full moon shine through the window, keeping them from total darkness.

They stood mere inches apart beside the bed, facing each other, the air charged

with sexual tension.

His first instinct was to take control, to pull her to him and guide her pleasure. But

this was Meagan. She was unique, and needed special care. She would want to feel in
control.

Even if it was an illusion.
The easiest way to give that to her, he decided, was to be the first to take off an

article of clothing. Decision made, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed to the
floor.

He stood in front of her, watching her eyes soak in his naked torso. "Oh, Sam,"

she said a bit hoarsely. "You really are too sexy for your own good." She stepped towards
him, closing the distance between them, her finger tracing one of his flat, dark nipples.
"No, for my own good."

Everything in him screamed to touch her. Yet, he knew it was too soon. He didn't

want to make her withdraw. He didn't speak, hardly even moved. Utterly still, he let her
explore his body. Her hands flattened on his chest, moving down his sides as if she was
sculpting a work of art, teasing his senses with her touch.

Her hand dipped low on his stomach, as her fingers dipped into the top of his

waistband. His stomach trembled making her eyes go to his. "I'm trying to have restraint
her, sweetheart, but I'm on a short leash. I've wanted you a very long time."

"I've wanted you too, Sam. I just didn't want to want you." She laughed a bit

nervously. "At this very moment, I can't think why that was."

She stepped back from him then, and pulled her t-shirt over her head, tossing it to

the floor as he had, telling him it was his turn.

Thank you.
She stood in front of him in a sheer black bra. It was all that covered her breasts,

making it easy for him to see the imprint of her pebbled nipples. This time he was the one
who stepped forward, closing the distance between them. He took his index finger and
traced one of her nipples through the fabric, repeating her actions.

Her eyes fell shut as a tiny little moan filled the silence.
His hands covered her breasts, feeling the soft swell of her nipples against his

palms, as he gently kneaded. He moved his thumbs under the fabric, running them across
her nipples before sliding his hands around her back and unhooking her bra.

She let it drop from her shoulders. Her teeth found her bottom lip, as she watched

him looking at her breasts. Full and high, they were perfect. Her plump red nipples were
made for a man's mouth.

His mouth.
He slid his hands down her waist, pulling her tight against his body before lacing

one hand into her hair. "You absolutely take my breath away," he told her just before he
kissed her.

It was a kiss that started with restraint, but as she clung to him, pressing her naked

breasts against his naked chest and running her tongue along his, he turned wild.

He tasted her with hunger as his hands cupped her butt, tugging her tight against

his arousal. His mind and his body were one with the desire to be inside her, to know
what she felt like wrapped around him, wet and willing.

Her hands moved down his back, across his butt, and thighs. She was touching

him greedily, making his mouth devour hers all the more. He couldn't get enough of her
flavor, or those soft lips pressed against his.

Breathless, she pulled her mouth from his, and slid her hand down the front of his

jeans. He sucked in a breath at her touch. Her fingers traced the ridge of his erection,
making him swallow back a moan.

Suddenly, her mouth was on his chest, kissing and licking. Her teeth scraped his

nipple and this time he couldn't hold back the moan.

Before he knew what she was doing, she began running her tongue down the

center of his stomach, starting at the middle of his ribs, and going down, and down, all
the way down. Tempting and teasing, and then dipping into the top of his waistband.

Holy Shit.
The woman was killing him, but damn, if he had to die, he wanted to do it like

this.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her naked breast against his

stomach and then slowly slid down the length of his body. When her breasts were pressed
directly against his pelvis, he really wondered why he had waited so long to take Meagan
to bed.

She lingered there, and then slid down his thighs to kneel at his feet. Unlacing his

boots, she left him standing there, staring down at her, aching with his need to feel those
breasts pressed against him again.

Now.
But she took her time with the laces. Unable to stand it a minute longer, he knelt

down in front of her and took over. She smiled, a knowing little tease of a smile, and
started to work on her own tennis shoes.

Seconds later, which felt like an eternity, they were both shoeless and standing.

She reached for the snap on his jeans. He let her. They were back in the region he had on
his mind.

Moments later, she slipped her hands into his pants and released his throbbing

length. She wrapped her hand around him and then looked up at him. "I can't believe I'm
actually here, touching you like this."

She was lightly stroking the underside of his length in just the right way. Speech

was difficult, but somehow he managed. "Me neither, sweetheart, me neither."

Reaching around his waist, she tried to push his pants down his hips, and then

said, "Get rid of these."

He looked at her, eyes half lidded with desire and through giving up control.

They'd have to share it. "I'll take mine off, if you take yours off."

Not hesitating, she stepped backwards and unsnapped her shorts. Not wanting to

miss a moment of her undressing, he shoved his underwear and pants down in a quick
movement, and kicked them aside.

He was naked by the time she had unzipped herself. She stopped moving, going

utterly still, staring at him. He motioned to her shorts. "Off sweetheart. I want you
naked."

She nodded, and slipped her shorts down her hips. His mouth went dry. "You're

not wearing underwear," he said staring down at the tantalizing triangle of brown hair
between those gorgeous legs.

She nodded. "I'm not a big fan of underwear."
His voice was hoarse. "Damn good thing I didn't know that earlier or I might have

taken you in the parking lot."

She smiled and dropped to her knees in front of him. Her hand went to his sacks,

gently cupping them. Her mouth was so near his tip, he could feel the trickle of her warm
breath. Had he died and gone to heaven, and someone forgot to inform him?

"So, do you like this?" she asked, as she gently filled her hand with the weight of

him.

"Ah, yeah," he said, but just barely. His body was pretty much demanding all his

energy. There was none left for talking.

Her tongue lapped at the tip of his penis, soft and wet, and so damn good. His

hands found their way into her hair. He didn't remember moving them, but obviously he
had. She was licking him like an ice cream cone, long strokes of her tongue, up and down
his length.

He wanted her to take him in her mouth, to suck him. But the teasing, the

wanting, was pretty damn good. Then she gave him what he wanted. She took half of him
in her mouth, and just sucked.

Oh, man.
His head fell back, his body arching towards her. He didn't mean to say it out

loud, but he did, "Take it all, Baby."

And she did.
His body ached in that perfect way it does when building up to orgasm. He had to

stop her. This wasn't how he wanted to come tonight. He grabbed her shoulders. "Stop.
You have to stop."

She didn't stop.
His body throbbed, wanting to enjoy what she offered. Forcing restraint, he pulled

away from her, bending down and lifting her to the edge of the bed.

"Sam!" she protested. "Why'd you stop me?"
His hands were on her knees gently spreading them. "My turn," he said as he

leaned forward, across her body, and suckled one of her nipples.

"So sweet," he murmured against the tip, before lapping at it with his tongue. He

switched sides, nipping and licking as she squirmed and made soft sounds of pleasure.

Oh yes, he liked those sounds.
Sliding down her body, he knelt between her legs and ran his tongue up the length

of one thigh, and then the next. His teeth nipped at the sensitive skin on her inner knee,
making her suck in a breath and he felt the goose bumps form on her skin.

He blew on her skin, trailing the air all the way to her center and across her

delicate little nub. His tongue gently stroked it before he took it in his mouth and gently
suckled. He lifted first one leg and then the other over his shoulders, giving him better
access to please.

His fingers found her wetness, silky and plentiful. Oh, yeah, so wet, so ready.

This was going to be so good. He slipped his finger inside her as his mouth continued to

tease. Her stomach trembled as he slipped a second finger in, caressing her inner walls
and looking for that secret spot he knew existed.

Her body tensed, and he knew he had found that special place. Her hands moved

from the bed to his hair, as if she was afraid he would stop. He wasn't going to stop until
she called his name in the midst of orgasm.

She arched her back and moaned, as the muscles around his fingers tensed and

released. When he heard her call out his name, satisfaction welled. That was what he was
looking for.

He gently brought her down, lightening his touch with both his fingers and his

mouth, and then feathered kisses on his way up her body to her mouth. "I want inside
you, Meagan."

Then he kissed her, long and deep and hot. "Condom," he said against her mouth.
She stiffened. "Please tell me you have one."
He smiled. "More than one."
She smiled back at him. "Then what are you waiting for?"
He laughed despite the throbbing of his body, and slid off her to grab his pants.

He ripped the wrapper open and was about to roll it on when her hand covered his. "Let
me."

"Be my guest," he said letting her take it, and shut his eyes as he waited for the

touch of those soft little hands. Instead, the warmth of her tongue wrapped his tip, tracing
the ridge.

His eyes opened and met hers. "Sorry," she said rolling the condom down his

length. "I couldn't resist."

"No apology needed."
There was nothing keeping him from sinking into her now. The moment of truth

had arrived. With a low growl he hauled her against him, and slid them both onto the bed.

He pressed her thighs apart, and settled his hard length between her legs. Staring

down into her eyes, he ran his penis up and down her warm, wet heat, teasing them both
with how close he was to penetration.

"Do you want me inside you, Meagan?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Say it," he said, forgetting about letting her have control.
She stared at him, hesitating only a fraction of a second. "I want you inside me,

Sam."

He liked Meagan more every minute. Damn, hearing her say that made him throb.
He watched her face as he positioned his penis above her, then sinking deep into

her body. She gasped softly as pleasure, vivid and arousing, washed over her features.

"Yes," he said against her ear. "You feel so good Meagan." He didn't wait for an

answer. His body demanded he move, so he did, pulling out and sinking back inside her.

His hands slid underneath her butt, cupping it, and moving her hips to take him

deeper. Oh, and she did.

Deliciously.
They both moaned together as he sunk farther and harder. It drove him to increase

the rhythm, still wanting it faster, and harder. She met him stroke for stroke, clinging to
his shoulders, and arching her hips.

He felt her tense, and call his name, and then she was milking him, inch by inch,

as her muscles closed down on him, making him come with a potent explosion that made
him shudder for long moments.

When his body calmed, he kissed her. It was a long, tender kiss. A kiss that said

this was the first of many times for them.

The woman really was addictive.

* * * *

Meagan broke out of a deep sleep with a dull noise vibrating in her head. She

pried her eyes open. A telephone. She wasn't answering it. Her eyes fluttered shut.

A spicy scent filled her nose.
Sam.
His arms surrounded her, protective and comfortable. She sighed and snuggled up

closer to his side, her head on his shoulder, her hand nuzzled in the hair on his chest. Her
mind replayed the night before. They had made love all night, well, at least until the
condom supply ran out.

It had been amazing. Too good. Scary good. But she didn't want to think about

that right now. Later.

The phone rang again. She better answer it or she'd never get peace. It was on

Sam's side of the bed, on the nightstand. She leaned across him, waking him. He wrapped
his arm around her, blinked through sleepy eyes. "Don't go."

"I'm not," she said smiling. "I'm answering the phone."
He loosened his grip as if in approval, and she grabbed the receiver, pulling the

cord across Sam's chest. "Hello."

"You bitch, you think you can cheat on me and get away with it? You'll be sorry,"

a raspy voice full of hatred blurted before the line went dead.

Chapter Four

Sam felt Meagan tense. He leaned up on his elbows, studying her expression. Her

skin had gone sheet white, her bottom lip trembled.

He brushed his knuckles across her cheek hoping to calm her. "Meagan?"
She swallowed so hard he could see the muscles in her throat move. Abruptly,

catching him off guard, she flung the phone out of her hand. It bounced off the mattress,
banged against the dresser, and then dangled by the cord to the floor.

She stared at the phone as he did, seeming stunned by her own actions.
He reached for her, planning to pull her into his arms. Before he could stop her,

she scurried out of reach, to the side of the bed. Snatching up his shirt from the floor, she
pulled it over her head.

"Meagan, tell me what's going on?" Sam asked urgently. Not waiting for an

answer, he stood up, reaching for his jeans. He shoved his legs in them as he watched her,
waiting for an answer.

Meagan tugged the shirt down over her hips as she pushed to her feet. "He's here,

Sam."

She didn't look at him, but he could hear her distress in her trembling voice.

Without further explanation she took off running across the room. Sam was on her heels,
barely having time to zip his pants, clearly knowing the he she referenced was Nathan
Carrington.

In other words, trouble.
Sam came up behind Meagan as she flung open the front door. Damn. So much

for discretion.

She stood with her hands clenched by her sides, and whispered, "That's him."
Sam rested his hands on her shoulders, reassuring her that he was there for her

and she was safe. A quick glance over her shoulder told him all he needed to know—
Meagan's stalker was getting bolder by the minute.

He could see the man—tall and lanky with spiky black hair—leaning, arms

crossed, against the driver's side of a black mustang. He simply stared at the house,
boldly, defiance in his eyes, with no fear of being caught.

Just past the restraining orders limits, where the police couldn't touch him.
The man needed to be taught a lesson.
"Oh, God," Meagan said in a shaky voice. She spoke without turning, staring at

Nathan, like she was afraid to let him out of her sight. "What do I do?"

"You're going to let me handle this." Running a gentle hand down the side of her

hair, he said, "Stay put."

He dropped a kiss on her temple before digging his keys out of his pocket.

Sidestepping Meagan, he moved to the front porch. Nathan didn't move. He just watched,
as if Sam was no threat whatsoever. Sam grimaced. Nathan Carrington was about to get a
reality check.

"I'll get your ass moving," Sam mumbled under his breath, as he opened the

passenger door of his car, flipped open the glove box and pulled out his gun. He left the

door open, too focused on his goal. He was going to scare the hell out of Nathan
Carrington.

He pivoted around, gun aimed at Nathan, ignoring the crunch of rock under his

bare feet. With serious intent in the hard rigidity of his body, he moved steadily towards
the mustang. He didn't run, he walked. Slow, precise, focused.

Sam watched Nathan's eyes go wide, his arms drop to the side of his body,

readying himself to move. Then, as Sam expected, Nathan turned, urgency in his
movements, yanking his door open, and sliding inside.

Running like the chicken shit he was, picking on innocent women.
He cranked his engine just as Sam reached his trunk. The tires spun, squealing,

throwing dust and gravel, as Sam slammed his fist into the metal.

"Run, you bastard," Sam yelled at the car. Then softer to himself, he said, "But

you can't hide. I'm going to get you."

* * * *

Meagan stood frozen, watching Sam in mute astonishment as he retraced his

steps, kicking his car door shut, but bringing his gun along with him.

His protectiveness touched her, made her warm inside, even as fear threatened her

composure. She would never have thought having someone take care of her was
appealing. Turned out, it was. There was no denying she really liked Sam's presence, his
concern.

Even needed him.
That thought scared her, making her hug herself. She didn't want to be so

emotionally exposed. Not with Sam, not with anyone. Her mother had taught her that.

Nathan was hard enough to deal with. She didn't need to complicate things by

falling for Sam. Yet, the way he had acted without hesitation, so brave, so protective, was
unbelievable. It got to her.

Made her respect him.
It was as if his instincts kicked in, or perhaps, hers just took a vacation. She had

acted rashly, out of pure freak-out mode. So Sam had stepped in, taking control. And she
had been glad. Even relieved. She didn't give up control to the men in her life, but she did
to Sam. In more ways than one.

What was happening to her? Suddenly, a wave of emotion threatened. She had a

crazy man stalking her, and she was quite possibly falling in love with a man who was far
too much like her father. It felt like too much to deal with.

Her eyes burned with unshed tears. Her chest felt tight.
Sam walked up the porch, stuffing the gun in the back of his waistband before

stopping directly in front of her. He stared down at her, his pupils so dark they hid much
of the blue she loved so much. She should have looked away, hiding her emotions, but
that thought came too late.

She felt vulnerable with her new found realization about Sam, as if he could read

her expression, see her feelings. Deep down she knew Sam saw nothing more than he had
before, but logic didn't seem to apply in her current state of mind. What if she was
transparent about her feelings? Sam was observant. It made her feel exposed, and

compounded the fear she was experiencing. Holding back the tears seemed almost
impossible, but she tried.

Tried and failed.
Two salty drops of wetness leaked down her cheeks.
Sam wrapped his arms around her, holding her close for several long moments,

making her feel sheltered and safe, and far too dependant on him. She clung, burying her
head in his shoulder, needing his strength more than she would have ever thought
possible.

Even his voice was warm and comforting. "It's okay, sweetheart. I'll take care of

this guy."

He stroked her hair. He was always touching her hair. She liked it, found it oddly

moving. Sam maneuvered her backwards into the house, never letting her go, and kicking
the door shut behind him.

Before she knew what was happening, Sam scooped her up in his arms. Her hand

settled on his bare chest, her head on his shoulder. She was still fighting the tears, but
they came anyway. Slowly, but they lived in a much more turbulent form very near the
surface. He carried her to the living room, sitting down with her in his lap.

Reaching behind him, he pulled his gun from his pants and sat it on the coffee

table, shuffling her as he did, before wrapping his arms around her. She didn't look at the
gun. Didn't want to. It represented danger, and reminded her of the defiant way Nathan
had stood across from her house.

Her safety zone.
Would she ever feel as safe as she once had here?
Sam cradled her like she was cherished. It had been so long since she had felt that

way. Since her mother died, actually. It was a strange comparison, she knew, but it was
what came to mind. Thinking of her mother was the final blow. The tears flowed, not
little drops, but big, full blown tears that fell one after another, rocking her body.

Sam held her close, his body a solid rock of reassurance. His voice, soft and

soothing murmured understanding words. Time seemed to stop. It could have been
minutes, or an hour. She didn't know. When she finally calmed, she rested her head
against his shoulder, absorbing his smell, his presence.

Finally, when she felt fairly composed, she wiped at her eyes, sniffed, and looked

up at Sam. "I'm sorry. I never cry." She laughed, embarrassed. "I can't believe I broke
down like that."

He ran his finger across a wayward drop of wetness on her cheek. Tender. Soft.

Caring. She sucked in a breath. He was such a contradiction. Powerful, arrogant, bossy,
yet he was also so sweet and gentle.

As if he could read her mind, he said the perfect thing. "There is no reason to

apologize." His tone was that of complete, utter understanding. "Something like this
would shake up the strongest of people. And you..." he paused for emphasis, "Meagan
Tippan, are one hell of a strong woman."

She just stared at him for several seconds. Deep down she had always known Sam

Kellar would take all that she was, and more. He would make her want things she didn't
want to want, things she had long ago suppressed and forgotten. Because she didn't
believe in love or happy ever after.

But Sam made her want to believe.

Damn him, she couldn't seem to want him to go away. In fact, she was so touched

by his words, his actions, she found herself reaching out to him.

Her hand slid to his jaw. "Thank you, Sam. I, um, really do appreciate this."
He brushed a lock of her hair out of her eyes, letting his fingers linger on her

forehead. "I don't need to be thanked. Not by you. There are other things I want from you.
But not thanks."

She searched his face. "Meaning what?"
He smiled. "Meaning I want to spend time with you. I want a chance to get to

know you."

Her mouth felt dry. "We'll fight."
He winked. "Making up will be fun."
She sighed. "You're trouble Sam Kellar," she paused, "but I have to admit, you

seem to be my kind of trouble." Her voice softened, "And, whether you want to hear it or
not, thanks for getting rid of Nathan."

His arms tightened around her, his expression turning serious. "What did he say to

you?"

Her eyes shut as she thought back to the phone call. "That ... that I cheated on

him. He called me a bitch."

Sam's hand tightened on her leg. "How well did you know this guy?"
She looked at him, her body tensing. "What do you mean by that?" she asked a bit

defensively.

"Wow, sweetheart, don't get upset. I think you took that differently than I meant

it. Did you supervise him daily, did you fire him yourself? That kind of thing."

"Oh," she said softly, letting her body relax again. "I guess I am a little on edge.

Sorry." She let out a long breath. "I supervised him on a video shoot. You probably know
this, but I do a lot of choreographing of first videos for new musicians. I'm with that
particular group of dancers for a short window of time."

"In his case how long?"
"A month max. We were going to use him for another video, but he wouldn't

leave me alone. I went to Sabrina and she had Human Resources term him for me."

"Wouldn't leave you alone, like how?"
"At first, it was a little flirtation, but he got more and more direct. He started

asking me out. When I declined, he started getting aggressive, following me to my car,
stuff like that."

Sam's expression was thoughtful. "I may pay him a little visit myself."
Meagan tensed again. "Sam, he's dangerous. I know he is. I feel it. Please don't go

alone."

Sam grinned. "I'm a much meaner son-of-a-bitch than he is." His voice softened,

"Besides, when did you start worrying about me?"

"I'm not exactly." His smile widened. "Okay, I am."
Sam shifted, sliding Meagan to her back. He rested above her, on his elbows.

"Nothing is going to happen to me."

Meagan looked up at him, searching his face, wondering why he made her so

crazy. Well, besides the facts, like he was gorgeous, kissed like a god, and knew just how
to make the big O a big yes.

God, she was in trouble.

He shifted slightly, making them fit together more snugly, increasing her

awareness of their half naked bodies.

"I'm late for rehearsals," she said, trying to fight for sanity.
"Yes," he said lowering his mouth towards hers, and smiling, "you are." He

nipped at her bottom lip with his teeth. "Should I let you up?"

"You should," she said in a voice hoarse with growing desire.
"But I don't want to," he whispered, just before he ran his tongue across her

bottom lip. "No," he said with certainty. "I really don't want to."

She made a little sound of pleasure, brought on by the sweet ache of response

pressing through her body. "I should go to work."

He brushed his lips over hers, once, twice, three times. "I agree ... just not yet."
How could she be thinking about sex when she had just been so frightened? Yet,

she most definitely did want him. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "I guess I can
be a little late."

"You know, Meg," he said softly, "I always knew how addictive you would be."

And then he kissed her before she could respond, dipping his tongue into her mouth with
slow perfection, making love to her with his mouth.

Sam was obviously no rookie when it came to women. He knew exactly how to

entice. She sank into the kiss, her tongue stroking his, her body feeling the touch clear to
her toes. His hand slid up her bare thigh, where he lightly trailed his fingers.

"Sam," she said as he trailed kisses down her neck.
"Mmmm?"
"I still don't like you," she said, desperate to get some form of control.
He laughed, soft and deep. Sexy. And so damn arousing. His teeth scraped her

neck, erotic, enticing, and really distracting to the whole control issue. Clearly undeterred
by her words, his hand went to one of her breasts, kneading before pinching the nipple.

She moaned.
He demanded in a low voice, "Still don't like me?"
He brought his mouth over hers, so close their breath mingled, fingers still teasing

her nipple. "Still don't like me?" he challenged.

She wanted to dislike him. "You're still the most arrogant, controlling man I have

ever known."

He tasted her lips, a soft caress. "But you like me," he said with confidence.
"No," she whispered.
"Yes, you do. You like me." His hands slid under her t-shirt.
No, his shirt.
She liked the intimacy of wearing his shirt much more than she would have

expected and loved the way it smelled like him. His hands slid over her breasts, a brief
tease of a touch, before sliding the shirt over her head. His eyes slipped down to her
breasts as he brought his index fingers to her nipples. "You have amazing nipples,
sweetheart."

They pebbled under his touch, aching with the heat of his gaze. She had

prominent nipples, more so than most women. It was awkward sometimes. Men
commented. Ones she didn't even sleep with.

Something about Sam made her feel so much more exposed than with other men.

It was a good and bad thing. "You're embarrassing me, Sam."

His eyes went to hers. He leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. "Don't be

embarrassed. I love your body."

She sighed into his mouth. "You confuse me, Sam. I don't like it."
He laced his fingers into the side of her hair. "I don't mean to, but I'm done

fighting this thing that's between us, Meg. I wish you would be too."

His mouth closed down over hers, hungry, demanding, keeping her from

responding, as if he didn't want to hear her answer.

Chapter Five

Sam wanted to hear Meagan admit she liked him. It was ridiculous, of course. She

liked him.

He knew it.
She knew it.
But he wanted to hear it.
He was going to have to get her to talk about whatever made her so afraid to trust,

something his gut said wasn't going to come easily. For now, he'd settle for a simple, I
like you, Sam.

Even if he had to make her come, over and over, to do it. Slowly he kissed his

way down her chin, to her neck, lingering along the way. She made soft little noises in
response. He loved those noises, and the way her hands slid into his hair. She even tilted
her head to give him better access.

She liked him, damn it.
He filled his hands with her breasts. God he loved her breasts. Full, firm, with the

best damn nipples he had ever seen. He licked one of them, lapped at it, circling the tip
with his tongue.

"Sam," Meagan said in a hoarse voice.
He looked up at her, his hands still on her breasts, a question in his eyes. Holding

her gaze, he suckled one nipple, then the next. As she squirmed, he licked, tasted,
savored.

She seemed to forget what she was going to say, letting her head drop back on the

couch cushion. A green couch. He noticed because was almost the same color as her
eyes. Funny, he had hardly noticed the inside of her home. He had been too focused on
her.

Still was.
The couch could have been polka dotted and he wouldn't care. He just wanted

Meagan. Here, anywhere, now, later, all the time.

His hands slid down her ribs, skimming the dip at her waist. He kissed a path

down the middle of her chest, straying to the sides of her breasts, lingering and licking
the soft curve of each mound.

Flattening one palm across her stomach, he marveled at how completely his hand

covered her. She was small, but strong and defined. Sliding his hands around her hips, he
dipped his tongue into her navel, a deep, round circle. Very sexy.

Surprising him, she pressed her palms against the sides of his head, making him

look at her. Her eyes were hazed with desire, her pupils dilated. "I've never liked being
naked alone."

An invitation he hated to decline, but had no choice. "We used up all the condoms

last night. I better leave the pants on."

She pushed up to a sitting position pressing her palms against his shoulders,

urging him to his knees as she followed.

Once they were face to face, on their knees, she reached for his zipper. His hand

closed over hers. "Meg, seriously, sweetheart, I am better off with the pants on."

She pressed her lips to his for a brief kiss. "I'm better off with them off," she

insisted.

As if he wasn't already battling temptation, she slid the fingers of her free hand

down the front of his pants, brushing the tip of his erection. It was pure torture.

He sucked in a breath. "My restraint is a thin line, Meg. Play fair."
Her hands wrapped around his waist, pressing her breast against his bare chest, as

her head tilted up, her lips parted. An obvious invitation.

"I'm on the pill," she said softly. "Promise me you've practiced safe sex, and we

won't use anything."

He let out a breath. Thank you.
"Always," he said, sliding one hand around her neck as his eyes went to the

temptation of her lips.

She surprised him by adding, "I've never done it without a condom." She let the

words linger in the air, and then added, "Ever."

He looked at her. Surprised. The implication of trust was heavy in the air. But, she

wouldn't say she liked him. These mind games were killing him. "But you will with me?"

She nodded, her eyes dark with passion. "Yes," she said and then dropped her

voice a notch, "I will with you." The words danced between them for several heartbeats
before she added, "You're not the kind of man who makes stupid decisions, even when it
comes to dropping his pants."

Her words were a vote of confidence in his direction, a positive opinion of his

character. She might not realize it, but he did. He lowered his head until his mouth
lingered a mere inch above hers.

"Meagan," he whispered, intending to say more, but nothing else formed on his

lips. Yet the one word was spoken with a load of meaning, and laced with emotion,
passion, hunger.

His mouth slanted over hers. Their lips lingered for long moments, pressed

together in a tantalizing caress, not giving her his tongue. The kiss, a mere brush of the
lips, was loaded with heat, slowly rising, burning between them. They clung to one
another.

There was something happening, here, now, between them. He dipped his tongue

into her mouth, brushing it against hers ever so lightly, a mere flicker. He drew back,
flicking his tongue across her bottom lip, drawing it between his teeth, sucking it lightly
in his mouth.

She made a soft noise. "You make me crazy," she whispered, her voice a bit

tormented.

"The feeling is mutual, sweetheart." The last word was said into her mouth, barely

a word, swallowed by their kiss.

She pushed her hand between them, reaching for his zipper, and pulling it down.

She broke away from the kiss, moving so she could get to his chest. She pressed her lips
against one of his dark, flat nipples as her hands slid up and down his sides.

Her touch was like throwing gasoline on a fire already burning. His hands went to

her hair, touching it, touching her. Even as she trailed kisses across his chest, her hands
slipped inside his pants making him tense, anticipate, yearn. Her hand closed around his

pulsing erection, and he moaned. She slid those delicate little fingers down his length,
making him ache in ways that were impossible to disguise.

And what an ache it was.
He hadn't meant to give her control. She took it with her actions, her touch, even

her taste.

Her voice was hoarse. "Take off your pants, Sam."
Gently he teased her, "Demanding, aren't you?"
She stroked him again, giving him a wicked little smile. "I'll make it worth your

while."

He looked down. "You'll have to let go, because no way am I moving while

you're touching me. It feels too damn good."

She smiled at that, her eyes going to his. "Sam," she said in a sigh, and a hint of

shyness. She let her hand slide away from his erection. Before he could move, she
planted both hands on his shoulders, pressed her breasts against his chest, as she nipped
at his bottom lip.

"Hurry," she whispered.
Sam didn't need to be asked twice. He moved, making quick work of discarding

his pants. No condom needed. The thought set him on fire, made him harder.

Him, inside her, wet, hot, now.
Yes.
He stood in front of her, hard and ready, while she stayed on her knees, staring.

She licked her lips. He got harder. If that was even possible. He was so damn hard and
ready, he could barely stand it. Slowly, her eyes trailed up his body, to his eyes. "I'm
having a love affair with your body, Sam."

He laughed, sitting down as he did, and pulling her against his side. "Feel free,"

he whispered, pressing his hand to the back of her head, and urging her lips towards his,
"because I am most definitely having one with yours. Climb on top, sweetheart." His lips
brushed hers. "I want to see you."

She pulled back and looked at him, brushing her fingers down his cheek before

nibbling at his ear, then his neck, with her lips, tongue, and teeth.

Sam felt the heat well up, a tidal wave of need threatening. Something about her

touch made him burn in a way that was consuming.

When he couldn't take it any longer, he wrapped his arms around her. "Ride me,

Meagan. I really need to be inside you."

She slid around onto his lap, straddling him, letting him hold her up, as she took

his erection in her hand. The instant she positioned his tip against her wetness, he
groaned. No condom, inside Meagan.

Heaven.
Slowly, she slid down his length, until she had fully absorbed him. Her hands

settled on his chest. He took them in his hands and moved them to her sides. "Let me
look at you a minute."

"Sam," she whispered as if it was a plea.
He slid his hand around her back pressing her body against his, brushing his lips

across hers. Against her lips, he said, "You're beautiful sweetheart. I can't help wanting to
see you."

"I've never been shy, but you..."

He brushed his cheek against hers. "I, what?"
She buried her face in his neck, her warm breath against his skin making the urge

to move almost impossible to fight. Then she said, "Your eyes get so hot. I feel
overwhelmed."

"Right now, a lot more than my eyes are hot." Slowly he started moving, not even

trying to get her to sit back so he could see her. Feeling was enough. For now.

Warm, wet, and all Meagan, her body was wrapped around him, pulling him into

oblivion. He kept the rhythm slow, tantalizing, stroke by stroke, pulling her out of her
shyness. He framed her face with his hands, kissing her. It was a passionate kiss, tongue
to tongue, making love to her with his mouth as he was with his body.

She kissed him back, her own desire clearly winning over her out-of-character

shyness. Her arms were around his neck as she leaned back, her eyes meeting his,
watching him as she moved against him, with him, all around him.

He didn't try to resist the urge to see her breasts bouncing with the movement.

There was no reason for her to be shy. He wanted her to get over whatever strange hang-
up she had about him watching her.

To get her used to it.
This wasn't going to be the last time he had her.
Not by far.
Her breasts swayed with the slow movement, her nipples red and tight, and so

damn sexy. His eyes went back to her face. "Put your hands behind you, on my knees."

She bit her bottom lip, fretting, but she did it. The angle took him deeper, made

her breasts rise high for his viewing, and sent him over the edge.

He gripped her waist, anchoring her, guiding the rhythm to a faster, harder pace.

She moaned, soft, seductive, arching her back to press him deeper.

"Oh, yes, just like that, Sweetheart, just like that."
Her hips moved, sultry, perfect, making him ache, and want. Faster and faster he

thrust, pulling her with him into the deep haze of complete need.

Then he felt her stiffen, her body squeezing his erection just before she cried out.

Hard little ripples sucked him into her pleasure, made him push her down his length as he
surged to her core.

And exploded.

* * * *

Sam held Meagan, his arms wrapped tightly around her. They had been holding

each other for a long while. How long he didn't know. It felt too good for him to want it
to end. That he did know. This is why he had avoided her. He was falling in love with
her. There was no doubt about it.

But there was no turning back now. It simply was. He knew when to fight. It

wasn't now. But it sure wasn't going to be easy to convince her they were good for each
other.

She didn't even like him. Or so she said. Even in the midst of orgasm, he hadn't

gotten her to admit differently. He nuzzled her neck, soaking in the soft smell that was
her. She made a little sound of satisfaction. He smiled against her skin. She liked him. She
was just scared.

"Meg, sweetheart," he said in a low voice, next to her ear.
She leaned back and looked at him, her eyes filled with satisfaction. He loved

knowing he had given her that look. "What do I have to do to get you to like me?"

She ran her hand down his cheek, lingering on his jaw. "You're really sexy with a

one day beard."

He grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing it. "You didn't answer

my question."

She was slow to answer. "Damn you, I do like you," she said in a soft, angry

voice.

He frowned. "Why is that such a problem?"
She tried to push away from him but he kept his arm around her. "I have to get to

rehearsals."

"Answer me, Meagan," he said insistently.
"This is why," she said with heat in her tone, as she pressed her hands to his chest.

"I don't want someone who will be demanding and bossy."

Their bodies were still intimately locked, and she was already getting mad at him.

What she didn't seem to realize was—if she kept squirming—he was going to get hard
again. Shit. He was getting hard again.

Her eyes went wide. "Sam?"
"Yeah, I want you again. Is that a problem?"
A slow smile slid onto her lips. "It's very hard to be mad at you when you do this,

you know?"

He grinned as his body began to move beneath hers. "A new battle strategy, we

both win."

"There is that," she said moving with him, her eyes starting to fall shut, desire

seeping into her expression.

He reached for her leg. "We're going to do this a little different this time," he told

her as he slid her leg over his shoulder.

Her voice was high as she grabbed for balance. "Sam."
He held her securely. "Trust me," he said as he reached for the other leg, one hand

behind her back to hold her up. "You'll like it."

He slid both arms underneath her, hands on her back, holding her steady, and

guiding her as he started to move. "See how deep I am?" His eyes shut. "Very nice."

She was biting her lip. "Um, you, oh m..."
He cut her off as he pulled her hard onto his now throbbing erection. She clung to

his neck, meeting him as they came together, arching into the stroke.

The sound of their breathing filled the room as they met each other stroke for

stroke, harder and deeper, with every move until the room seemed to disappear in the
midst of the raw passion. His release came suddenly, no warning, making him call out her
name, as his eyes fell shut with the powerful shuddering of his body.

To his relief, Meagan followed, as if his release had pulled her along. He would

have gone nuts if he had come without making sure she did. Her soft sighs of pleasure
told him he had nothing to worry about. When she finally settled, sated and exhausted,
she released his neck and fell back, palms against his legs. He pulled one of her legs off
his shoulder kissing her ankle as he did, and then repeating the action with the next.

She leaned forward, collapsing on top of him, his arms wrapping around her.

He sighed, part with pure sexual satisfaction, the other with the certainty that life

had just gotten a little more complicated.

But Meagan was worth it.

Chapter Six

Meagan put her forehead against Sam's, completely sated after a second orgasm.

The man was a virtual sex machine. If they kept this up, she would never call work. "We
have to call Sabrina."

"I know," he said, running his hand up and down her back and repeating his

words. "I know." He sighed. "You'll have to take the day off."

She raised her head. "Why would I do that?"
He gave her a steady gaze. "Since we now know arguing, at least with you, turns

me on, perhaps we should change positions before we have this discussion."

She grinned despite her irritation. "I have to admit I enjoy your new methods of

ending our little fights."

A smile played on his lips as he stood up with her wrapped around his body.

Gently sliding out of her body, he set her feet on the floor. "We better get you cleaned
up," he said kissing her temple.

Meagan reached for the box of tissues by the couch. "I really need to call work. I

have to be at least an hour late. I'm sure they're worried."

"I'll call in for you, and explain what happened." He hesitated. "By that I mean I

will tell them you won't be in today."

She didn't like the sureness of his tone. It wasn't a question. "I really need to go in

today."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look," he said. "I know you hate

when I take control, but I really need you to trust me to know what's best." His hands
settled on her shoulders. "Can you do that for me?"

The truth was she was scared of Nathan. And she did trust Sam. She just didn't

like his approach. "I hate it when you order me around."

His voice was gentle, tearing down some of her resistance. "I'm asking, Meg."
"Now," she said with a huff, "but that's not how you started out."
He sighed. "You're right. I'm trying here, I swear. I admit I'm more used to

handing out orders, than asking." His hands slid up and down her arms, and his voice
softened, "I just want," he paused, "no—need—to keep you safe. Please trust me on this."

She studied him a long moment. She didn't want to like him. But damn she did.

Very quietly she said, "Yes, I trust you."

A slow smile turned up his lips. "Good." Taking one of her hands in his, he

brought it to his lips.

Biting her bottom lip, she contemplated her situation with Nathan. "He's not going

to just go away, is he Sam?"

"I'm afraid it's going to take some persuasion, sweetheart." He squeezed her hand.

"But I'm up to the task. Don't worry."

His protectiveness touched her when it should have scared her. But it wasn't

possessiveness, she reminded herself. There was a difference. Her father had been

possessive of her mother, and he would never have backed down in an argument. Sam
did. Sort of. At least he apologized for being demanding.

It was a start.
She slid her palm flat against his chest, needing to touch him for reassurance,

liking the sound of his heartbeat beneath her palm. "I really hate this thing with Nathan,
and how trapped the situation is making me."

He slid his arms around her waist, pulling her close. "I know. I hate it, too. But, if

we take precautions things will be fine." He kissed her forehead. "Go shower, and I'll call
Sabrina. Then, we'll sit down and talk."

Meagan wrapped her arms around his neck, not ready to let go of his warmth.

"Call her now, and come shower with me."

He slid his hand around her bottom. "As tempting an offer as that is, if we keep

this up, I'll never get to dealing with Nathan."

Meagan sighed. "I suppose you're right."

* * * *

Sam hung up the phone in Meagan's kitchen as he ran water in the coffee pot. As

he had expected, Nathan Carrington had a hidden past. Yesterdays call to his ex-Ranger
buddy, who now ran a private security company, had already delivered answers.

Nathan Carrington had a sealed adolescent record for stalking. Two counts. Both

teachers. Meagan's role with Nathan somewhat fit that profile which was disturbing.
Nathan had been seventeen the second time he was charged. So close to being an adult it
was a surprise he hadn't been sentenced as an adult.

He was twenty-five now. Sam found it hard to believe he had stayed clean this

long. In fact, he'd bet money he hadn't.

Pouring water into the coffee pot, he ran through options in his mind—ways to

protect Meagan. Nathan had served six months after the last charge, which meant he
would have done a lot more if he had been convicted as an adult.

He flipped the coffee pot switch on as he began inspecting Meagan's kitchen. It

was very clean. Sparkling white. No mess, no decorations, no frilly girl things. Meagan
was feminine in her mannerisms, her clothes, even her speech, yet nothing in her house
showed the sentimental side normally associated with females.

Strange.
He looked across the bar to the living room. His eyes lingered on the couch.

Green like her eyes. He smiled. He would always have a special fondness for that couch.

The room was simple. A matching recliner, a mahogany coffee table, a couple of

lamps, a picture above the stone fireplace. No personal items. No photos. Nothing.

Very Strange.
What didn't she want to remember?
His mother and sister had photos everywhere throughout their houses. His

brother's wife did as well. "Huh," he mumbled, leaning his palms on the kitchen counter.

After a moment of thought, he walked into the living room perusing the windows

one by one. The locks were trash, no protection whatsoever. Checking her sliding glass
door, he wasn't pleased. Anyone who wanted in could get in. Her place simply wasn't
safe.

He walked into the kitchen, pulled two ceramic mugs from the cabinet and filled

them with coffee. He remembered how Meagan took her coffee. June had mentioned lots
of cream the other day at Sabrina's office.

He found the creamer in her cabinet with the other coffee supplies, poured a

generous amount in her cup, and stirred it. For him, plain old black did just fine. The only
way he ever got it in the army. Old habits were hard to break. Two cups in hand, he
headed to the bedroom.

He and Meagan needed to have a little heart to heart.

* * * *

Meagan had just finished dressing in her favorite faded jeans, and a baby blue tee

when Sam stepped into the bedroom, carrying two coffee cups.

She rushed forward. "Thank you. I needed caffeine." She took a sip, and then

smiled at him. "How did you know how I like it?"

He smiled. "I remember you telling June."
She looked at him curiously as he took a drink from his cup. Something in his

expression told her he was bothered by something. "What's on your mind, Sam?"

He crossed to the bed and sat down. Meagan followed him, sitting down beside

him. "Well?" she asked looking at him expectantly.

He sighed heavily. "Nathan has a track record of stalking."
Her eyes widened. "But the police said he didn't."
His expression was grim. "Adolescent record. That means it's kept confidential."
Meagan could hardly believe her ears. She waved a hand in a disgusted motion.

"That's such bull. How can they do that? Don't innocent people have the right to protect
themselves?"

She was moving around too much to keep from spilling her coffee, but she didn't

care. Apparently, Sam did. He took it out of her hand, sitting both of their cups on the
nightstand. Turning to face her, he took her hand. "I know this is a hard thing to deal
with."

"It is. It's..." She sighed at a loss for words.
"It's hell," Sam offered softly, his eyes gentle and understanding making her heart

squeeze.

"Yes," she whispered.
"Come here," he said tugging lightly on her hand to guide her into his lap.
She went willingly. "It is," she agreed quietly. "My life is being totally controlled

by this guy, and what real help do I get from the police?"

Sam's hand settled on her leg. "Listen," he said in a calm voice. "I'm going to

suggest something, and I want you to promise to think about it before you blow off the
idea. Fair enough?"

Meagan did think it was fair. He wasn't demanding, just asking. Point for Sam.

"I'm listening."

He gave her a look. "And you won't instantly say no?"
"I promise."

"Come stay with me until this is over." Meagan started to speak making Sam hold

up his hand. "Wait," he said. "Hear me out, think about it, and then respond. You
promised."

She opened her mouth, and then shut it again, nodding her agreement.
"You're very secluded out here, Meagan." Then: "Exposed. You have no security

system. Even your window locks are old."

She looked surprised. "You looked at my window locks?"
"Yes," he said, "while you showered. Come stay with me so I can keep you safe."
Meagan shut her eyes. After taking several calming breaths, she looked at Sam.

"I'm already very overwhelmed by this," she moved her hand between them, "you and
me. Living together, even for a few days, is only likely to make it worse."

Sam trapped her with his eyes, willing her to listen, and absorb. "I didn't expect

this thing between us to be quite so intense myself. We can't change it though, Meagan.
Whether you stay with me or not, it is what it is."

She laughed. "I guess this extreme exposure to one another is a good way to get

tired of each other."

Sam slipped his hand around her neck pulling her mouth to his, whispering

against her lips. "Not possible."

He brushed his lips across hers, sampling, teasing, and then claiming. His tongue

dipped into her mouth, caressing her tongue with his, promising with the sweet seduction
of his kiss that he did indeed care for her.

When he raised his head, he said, "I won't get tired of you, Meagan. You can take

that to the bank. Say you'll stay with me."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him, held him like he was her

lifeline. And what scared her was she thought he might just be.

Which was exactly why she couldn't stay with him. She was losing her ability to

be objective with him. Just like her mother had done with her father.

"I can't stay with you," she said over his shoulder, not wanting him to see the

regret in her eyes.

He stiffened, she felt it—yet for long moments, he was completely, utterly quiet.

He continued holding her, but something changed. Finally, he said, "I'm going to
shower." He set her on her feet, away from him, and then turned and walked towards her
bathroom.

No argument, no heated words. Just turned and walked away. What did that

mean? A low growl came from her throat as she turned towards the doorway.

Damn if the man wasn't making her crazy.

* * * *

Sam was still fuming when he walked towards the kitchen. He had learned years

before it was better not to speak, if you weren't sure what was going to come out of your
mouth. When Meagan had kissed him like she had, passionately, with acceptance and
need, and then turned around and said she wouldn't stay with him, it had created one of
those moments.

She was sitting at her kitchen table staring at the newspaper without really reading

it, when he walked into the room. He knew she wasn't really reading it, because her eyes

were on the table, not the paper. She looked up at him as if she sensed, or maybe heard,
his arrival. Neither of them spoke.

They just stared at each other. The silence was long, and loaded with tension.
He'd showered and dressed in yesterday's clothes, including the shirt that now

smelled like her. Damn, it was killing him. Her smell was all over him, dancing along his
nerve endings, threatening his good sense.

The woman was like an itch that always came back. Even angry at her, he wanted

her. She sat there, sunlight streaming through the window, making those little yellow
specks in her eyes that he loved so much, twinkle like droplets of gold.

And her hair.
Damn if he wasn't addicted to running his fingers through those long, silky

strands of light brown with just a hint of blond. It always smelled like jasmine. Just like
his shirt did right now.

Shit.
He was getting hard. An adult man walking around with a perpetual hard-on was

no laughing matter. He needed to get a grip. Now.

He kept his expression blank. "How about we go get some food?"
She did a damn good job of keeping her expression blank as well. Talk about

pissing him off. Then in a too sweet voice, she said, "I guess I haven't fed you, have I?"

He had been too busy enjoying her body to think of food. His anger was just

beneath the skin, lurking, waiting to introduce itself, and he knew it, felt it trying to
control him. Her decline to stay with him was like a slap in the face.

What did it take to earn her trust?
His eyes traced her body, blatantly sexual, slow, and laced with meaning. He

wasn't beyond antagonizing her. Not at all. Hell, she had punched him in the gut. She'd
rather get attacked than stay with him. His eyes went to hers. "Under the circumstances, I
forgive you."

Her teeth clenched as she glowered at him. "So we're back to square one, I see."
His brows raised in disbelief as his eyes locked with hers. "Your choice,

sweetheart. Not mine."

Chapter Seven

Meagan was on her feet in two flat seconds. She turned to face Sam, hands on her

hips. "Oh, no, Sam. You chose to act like an ass all by yourself. I didn't make you."

Sam had never gotten into a screaming match, and he wasn't about to start now.

The only place a fight was going to lead them was right back onto that green couch.

Naked again.
Since that didn't solve anything the first time, he doubted it would now. Not that

he wasn't willing to try. "Let's go eat, Meagan. Then, I'm going to take you to learn to
shoot a gun."

"How do you know I don't know how to shoot a gun?" she demanded, eyes

blazing hot.

"Do you?" he asked calmly.
"No! And I don't want to learn."
He laughed. He simply couldn't help it. She was totally pushing him to fight with

her. He wasn't biting. "Let's go eat, Meg, and we'll talk about it then."

"Meagan!" she said, as she started forward.
The minute she was arm to arm with him, his hand snaked out and grabbed hers.

"It's Meg to me Sweetheart, and it always will be."

She glared at him. "Just because you slept with me doesn't make it okay to call me

Meg!"

In a quick movement, he turned her into his arms, lowering his mouth a mere inch

above hers. "Does it give me the right to do this?"

His mouth closed down on hers, hot and hungry. Angry. Everything he felt, he put

into that kiss. Wanting relief, needing to rid himself of the turmoil building like boiling
water, he kissed her like he had never kissed her before. For several seconds, she refused
to respond. He deepened the kiss, his hands pressing against the small of her back,
molding her against his body.

With a small sound of surrender, her arms went around his neck. She kissed him

back then, her tongue stroking his, her body melting closer and closer. Reluctantly, he
raised his head. He stared down at her, seeing the mixture of passion and turmoil in her
eyes, knowing his must look the same.

As much as he wanted to take her to that damn green couch, he resisted. She'd

made her position clear. More sex wasn't going to do anything but complicate things. He
wanted her to come to him of her own free will.

He shut his eyes for the count of five, and then said, "Let's go get some food." The

anger was gone from his voice, taken as quickly as a thief does a wallet, snatched from
him by the growing affection he felt for her.

* * * *

She hadn't said a word to him on the drive to El Mercado, his favorite Mexican

Restaurant. He'd asked her where she wanted to eat, and received a shrug in return.

So here they were, at El Mercado. Sam sat across from Meagan, watching her

watch him. The only words she had spoken had been to the waitress.

He laughed. "This is crazy, Meg. We can't just sit here and stare at each other."
Her body relaxed as if she had been hoping he would say exactly what he had. "I

suppose you're right."

He held his hand out across the table. "Truce?"
She looked at it a long moment, wet her lips, and then slid her smaller one into

his. He closed his hand around it, holding on with no intention of letting go. Her eyes
went to his. "What does it take to earn your trust, Meagan Tippan?" he asked in a very
soft voice.

Vulnerability flashed in her eyes. "I trust you, Sam."
He let their hands drop to the marble top table, but he didn't release hers. They sat

there, face to face, holding hands. "Not completely. Talk to me, Meg. What is it about me
that bothers you so much?"

She studied their hands, her eyes avoiding his. "It's hard to explain."
"Try."
She sighed, slowly raising her eyes to his. "I like my independence."
"As do I. What about me makes you think I would take that from you?"
She answered too quickly. "I never said you would."
Right. "You didn't have to."
She changed the subject. "I noticed you rubbing your leg on the drive over here.

Are you hurt?"

He gave her a knowing look. "You're avoiding my question."
"Are you hurt?" she repeated.
He shrugged. His leg was a literal and figurative sore spot. "Old Army injury."
She tilted her head, studying him, her eyes scrutinizing. "How long were you in

the Army?"

"Thirteen years."
"And you've been with Morrison two."
He nodded.
Her expression said she was thinking. "That makes you, what, thirty-three or

four?"

"Thirty-four."
"I'm thirty," she said, and then frowned as her eyes went to the table, as if she

wasn't sure why she had shared that information. She lifted her eyes again, meeting his
with interest. "What exactly did you do in the Army?"

"I was a Ranger."
"Special Forces," she said thoughtfully. Then: "That doesn't surprise me."
His brow inched up. "And why is that?"
"It's just the way you are," she said. He wanted to know what that meant, even

opened his mouth to ask, but before he could get the words out she hit him with another
question. A tough one. "Why did you get out?"

He hated this subject. Despised it actually. But if he ever wanted her to open up,

he needed to show his willingness to do so with her. "Injury."

"You're leg," she said but it wasn't a question.
He nodded. "My leg."

Something flashed in her eyes, something he didn't quite understand, but he

wanted to. Her voice was soft. "You really are a bad ass, Sam Kellar."

He tilted his head to study her, not sure exactly what she meant. "Is that a

compliment?"

She hesitated as if she was afraid to admit her thoughts. Finally, she smiled, and

said, "It is. I get the impression you are a leader and always will be."

Their eyes locked, awareness passing between them, sparking the air with

electrical current. "What about you?" Sam asked. "What did you do before Morrison?"

"I was lead dancer and choreographer for the LA Pippans basketball team."
He considered that with interest. "Must have been exciting."
She shrugged. "It paid pennies. The basketball world figures the honor is worth

more than money."

"How did you come by a job like that?"
She hesitated. "I wanted away from home, couldn't afford college. I worked two

jobs while I went to high school so my grades pretty much suffered."

"In other words, no scholarship."
"Right," she said with a nod. Her hands were toying with her napkin, nervous,

anxious. "So I heard about the tryouts for the Pippans, and I went. The rest is history."

"Your parents must have been proud."
She looked down, but not before he saw the flash of turbulence in her face. Bingo.

He had found a link to her carefully guarded self. "My Mother is dead. My father is just
not much to talk about."

"Meagan..."
His cell phone rang. Damn. He sighed and reached for his pocket. "Hello."
"Sam, it's Sabrina. I hate to bother you, but I have two missing guards at the

Gambino video shoot. The crowd is crazy."

Sam cursed under his breath. "Sorry, Sabrina. It just never fails that things like

this happen at the worst times." He glanced up to see Meagan watching him. Their eyes
locked as he talked into the phone. "I'll make some calls and get back with you in a few
minutes."

After a quick few closing words, Sam hit the off button. He exhaled, running a

hand through his hair. The waitress showed up with the food. Sam waited until their
plates were in front of them to speak. "I need to get my address book from the car. I'll be
right back."

Meagan nodded. "Hurry," she said. "Your food's going to get cold."
Sam pushed to his feet. What rotten timing. He had been so close to getting

Meagan to open up to him.

* * * *

Meagan picked at her food, waiting for Sam to return. He was really getting to

her. She liked him.

A lot.
It was oddly reassuring that he hadn't gotten heavy handed about her going to his

place. She had tried her hardest to draw him into a fight, wanting to dislike him, waiting
to see the side that was like her father.

It just never came.
Her father would have demanded her mother listen to him, threatened to leave her

if she didn't listen. Meagan looked skyward. Why Mom? Why did you love him so much
that you let him destroy you?

Her cell phone rang, pulling her out of her all too common reverie about her

mother. Distracted, she reached in her purse, grabbed her phone and answered.

"Hello."
A familiar voice, but not a welcome one. "If you think I'm going to tolerate your

behavior, you're wrong, Meagan."

Meagan started to shake. "Go away," she said into the phone. "Just leave me

alone."

"You don't mean that. Stay away from Sam Kellar or I'll make sure he stays away

from you."

The line went dead.
Meagan sat there. Completely still. Except for the shaking. The shaking wouldn't

stop. She didn't even see Sam walk back to the table, but suddenly he was there, sliding
in beside her, taking the phone from her hand. His arm closed around her, warm and
comforting. She sank against his side.

"It was him, wasn't it?"
"Yes," she whispered.
He took her chin in his fingers tilting her face to his. "He can't get to you Meagan.

Not with me around. I'll stay at your place if you won't come to mine. He ... I'll sleep on
the couch. Whatever will make you say yes."

"No, Sam." Her hands went to his chest, urgent. "He said if I kept seeing you, he

... he would..." she let out a breath.

Sam ran his thumb over her cheek. "Sweetheart," he said in a soothing tone. "I've

already told you, he can't touch me. Stop worrying." He slid from the booth pulling
Meagan with him. "Let's get out of here."

Sam slid out of the booth, pulling Meagan with him. Not letting go of her hand,

he dug in his pocket, pulled out some cash, and tossed it on the table.

* * * *

Thirty minutes later Sam pulled into a small park near his house with McDonald's

bags sitting on the seat between them. As soon as he put the car in park, Meagan pushed
her door open, and stepped out of the car. She needed air and space. The park had been
Sam's idea, and a good one at that. Knowing someone was watching you, tracking you
even, was like being caged.

Glancing around the park, she didn't see any other people. She sent out a silent

thank you. Crowds were beginning to make her nervous. She stood at the front of the car,
sucking in a deep breath, loving the feel of the cool breeze lifting her hair off her neck.

Sam walked to the front of the car, bags in hand, and motioned towards one of the

picnic tables. She nodded, following him as he moved forward. Climbing up on top of the
table, she glanced at the large tree overhead and then at Sam.

It was a perfect spot, tucked between greenery, somewhat private. Without

hesitation Sam climbed up beside her, and reached in a bag. He stuffed a fry in his mouth,

and then held one out to her. She started to reach for it, but he moved it towards her
mouth. Meagan hesitated, the intimacy of the action taking her off guard, then pulled the
fry into her mouth.

His eyes—so blue in the bright sun, they made her feel as if she was staring into a

pool of glistening water—locked on hers. "Good?" he asked.

She nodded. "I can't believe I'm hungry, but I am."
He reached into the bag again, and pulled out her cheeseburger. "Good. Stress

takes a lot from a person. You need to eat."

She took the burger, battling two mental wars, as she did. Both were laced with

fear. She was scared of Nathan, no doubt it. And she didn't scare easily. And then there
was Sam to be scared of. Only, she was more afraid of her own feelings for him than she
was of him.

They ate in silence, and she knew he was trying not to push her, to give her time

to get over her encounter in the restaurant. When she finished eating, Sam took her trash,
shoved it in the bag and then pushed it aside. His hand went to hers, pulling her smaller
one into his larger one, and drawing her eyes. Seeing her hand in his made her mouth go
dry. No man had ever gotten to her so easily. Everything about him was big, strong, and
so damn compelling it was almost too much. At least for someone trying not to fall for
him.

"I really want to kiss you," he said softly.
She bit her bottom lip. "You're making me crazy, Sam."
He slid towards her, closing the distance between them, his hand settling on her

waist, a devilish gleam in his eyes. "Good crazy or bad crazy?"

She smiled despite herself. "Most certainly both."
He dipped his head to her neck, letting his breath blow along her skin, making her

nerve endings tingle, her legs throb. "You smell so damn good," he said, drawing her
earlobe into his mouth with his teeth. He moved to look at her, lacing his fingers in her
hair. "I should be talking about your safety, and all I can think about is how much I want
you."

Her voice quivered despite her best effort at keeping it steady. "You just had me."
"Hours ago," he said, brushing his lips across hers. "Too damn long ago."
"We're in a park," she whispered hoarsely.
He looked down at her. "Your point?" His lips brushed hers again as his arm slid

around her back, pulling her closer to his body, making her want to melt into him. An
urge she barely resisted.

She swallowed, looking up at him through her lashes. "It's a public place."
His hand pressed against her back sending waves of heat through her body. "Tell

me you don't want me to kiss you, and I won't."

She shut her eyes a moment, searching for some semblance of restraint. "You

really are killing me, Sam."

"You're killing me." His mouth covered hers, his tongue dipping between her

teeth, lightly scraping them, caressing.

Meagan sighed into his mouth. "You're so unfair."
He pulled her leg across his lap, nipping at her lips as he did. "I could say the

same of you."

"Me?" she asked, pulling back ever so slightly. "How am I unfair?"

He rubbed his cheek against hers, gently, seductively brushing skin against skin

before whispering into her ear, "Because you tempt me, morning, noon, and night.
Because you're in my head, and you won't get out."

His words washed over her like a gush of white water. She pulled back, one hand

on his chest, tilting her chin up so she could see his face. "You scare the hell out of me."

His eyes softened as his index finger traced her bottom lip. "I won't hurt you,

Meagan."

Her lashes fluttered shut. No way could he promise that. No way. Yet, she so

wanted to believe him. This stalker thing had her in too much turmoil to be objective and
she knew it. Or at least it was a good excuse for feeling as if she was falling for Sam.

Lips brushed lips, feather light. Then tongue to tongue, soft and silky, and oh so

perfect. When he claimed her mouth more fully she melted, resistance gone, need
present. Sam just plain made her hot.

His hand slid up her leg, inside her thigh, igniting heat and making her wet.

Wanting. His fingers brushed the seam of her pants, his tongue stroked hers, and a moan
slipped from her throat.

Struggling for composure, she pulled her mouth from his, dropping her head back

on his shoulder. His mouth went to her neck, kissing it, dipping his tongue on sensitive
spots. His hand traced the seam of her jeans, making her ache.

"Sam, please," she said, struggling for composure. "Not here."
His lips traveled up her chin to her mouth where his teeth nipped. "Tell me you'll

stay at my house, and I promise to stop."

She made a disgusted sound, but his hand closed over her breast, squeezing just

right. It felt damn good, she couldn't even think of her objections. "Damn you, Sam."

He dropped his mouth to her breast, nipping at her nipple through her shirt. "No

one is around."

Breathlessly she said, "This is crazy."
He brushed his chin along the side of her breasts. "Say you'll stay."
Her eyes rolled shut momentarily before she looked at him again. "You're bribing

me."

He bit at her nipple, looking up at her as he did. "Yes."
"You stay at my place," she said desperately trying to hang onto some control.
Sliding his hand around her outer thigh, he moved to kiss her lips. Lightly. Once,

lingering, twice, lingering, three times. "Deal."

She let out a shaky breath. "So you can take your hand away from my thigh now."
His voice was husky, no tease left. Very serious. "What if I don't want to?"
She swallowed. "I don't want to do it here."
"But you want me?" he asked looked at her, their faces so close a tiny movement

would make their lips touch.

Her hand went to his face. She saw no reason to deny what they both knew was

the truth. "You already know I do. Just not here."

He stared down at her, his expression oddly intense, serious. His body utterly still.

Then he kissed her soundly on the lips, no tongue, just lips. "I guess that admission will
have to be enough for now."

Meagan kissed his jaw. "But not for later."

His eyes darkened as he leaned back to look at her. "I already warned you I'm on

a tight leash where you're concerned."

Meagan laughed as she pulled her leg down from his, and hopped from the table

top to the ground. "You've never been on a leash in your life."

His expression went blank, his tone just as tough to read. "Sweetheart, if ever a

man has been on a leash, I am now."

Meagan tilted her head to study him. What did that mean? Before she could ask,

he slid off the table, grabbed their trash, and headed towards the car. She contemplated
her next move. What else could she do, but follow? So who had who on a leash?

As soon as she was in the car, she turned to him, "What exactly did you mean

back there?"

His cell phone rang.
Meagan grimaced as he pushed the answer button.
Damn, and double damn.
She wasn't going to get an answer.

Chapter eight

He was taking her to the studio. That in itself was a relief. Meagan needed some

space to think. And the video shoot needed her attention. There were some crowd control
issues at the Gambino shoot that had his security team and Sabrina in a panic. It had
gotten worse, not better since lunch.

Meagan walked into the studio with Sam by her side, his serious, bad guy exterior

firmly in place. This was the don't-mess-with-me kick-butt Ranger. She'd seen him like
this before of course, but now, knowing his training, it made more sense. He almost
became so focused on his tasks, he would transform into another person. Untouchable,
the perfect body guard.

Casting him a sideways glance, she had to admit he looked up to the task.
She waited just inside the doorway while he spoke to several members of his

security team, who stood just outside the entrance. She had now progressed to multiple
security people. Before Nathan, she had none. Before the burnt rose, and phone call, she
had one.

Watching Sam with his staff, it was clear they respected him. It was in the way

they responded to him. He walked toward her, a lazy, I own the world, swagger to his
walk, that made her mouth go dry. She always thought she hated that walk. Maybe she
had just hated how much she liked it.

Inwardly, she sighed. She most definitely liked that swagger. Even the attitude

that came with it. She sighed with a hint of distress. Sam stopped in front of her, staring
down at her with those too knowing, assessing eyes.

"What are you fretting about?" he asked, but not with the bad boy attitude he was

just wearing. He had somehow wiped it away, and became caring, sensitive Sam.

She blinked. "I'm fine." She lied. It was easier than telling him he was making her

crazy. And if she said much, she would either yell at him or pull him into her office and
rip his clothes off.

Neither seemed viable options.
His eyes narrowed. "You don't want to talk about it." He looked away and then

back at her. "Got it." He changed the subject. "That call today from Nathan, I have
someone checking on the number. I think it's a payphone. Have the police suggested you
change your phone numbers?"

"Yes." She found herself eager to state her case on the subject, even though she

shouldn't feel obligated to so with Sam. But she did. "I have a good reason to not change
my numbers. A lot of the talent has my numbers. If they have a problem on a set, even
after they have their own team put together, they all know they can call me."

He fixed her in a heavy stare. "You know what I'm going to say."
"You really think it will help?"
They started walking down the narrow hall, towards the main studio. "I think it's

necessary."

She let out a sigh of resignation. "Fine, change it."

They walked in silence, slipping down the narrow hallway towards her office

without being seen. The dance studio was past her office, and so were the dancers. At
least, at the moment.

Meagan unlocked her office, pushed the door open, and walked in. Sam followed,

quiet, deep in thought. She could almost feel him thinking, he was so intensely immersed
in his own mind.

To her surprise he shut her door, leaning against it, one foot propped on the wood,

arms cross in front of his body. "I really don't like leaving you here, but taking you to a
video shoot so out of control is not a good option either."

Meagan sensed his true distress as she leaned against the side of her desk to face

him. The concern she saw in his expression as his eyes locked with hers, had an unusual
impact on her. Rather than making her feel trapped, as she would have thought, he made
her feel cared about. "I'm safe here. There are plenty of guards."

Slowly, he pushed off the door, walking towards her, holding her gaze. Without

touching her, he pressed his palms on either side of her. "What would you say if I told
you, this thing between you and me, was more than sex to me. That I always knew there
was more between us."

Her body tingled with awareness, and he hadn't even touched her. She tried to

process his words. Truth surfaced in her own mind. She already knew she cared for Sam,
even loved him. But she couldn't have her life controlled. "Don't you think it's too soon to
say that?"

"I was going to wait, but standing here this morning, looking at you, feeling what

I do, I had to ask myself what that was going to accomplish." His lashes slid half shut.
"We've known each other a long time, Meg. This isn't sudden."

She wanted to tell him she felt the same way, but what if it was the beginning of

losing all that she was as an individual? Her independence, her life. "You overwhelm me.
I'm confused."

Still, he didn't touch her. He watched her, silent, scrutinizing, and far too long.

Finally, he said, "Whatever someone else did to make you not trust, it wasn't me."

His perception was unnerving. Her lashes fluttered shut. "I know," she whispered.
His cell phone rang, but he didn't move. "I have to go."
She nodded, still not looking at him. His body was close, heat radiating towards

her, making her ultra aware of him.

"I don't want to go," he said quietly. His phone had stopped ringing.
Her lashes lifted, meeting his gaze, getting lost in his sea blue eyes. She

responded honestly. "I don't want you to go," she paused, "but I know you have to."

He bent his head, slowly lowering his mouth to hers. "Think about what I've

said." Then he brushed his lips across hers, softly, so perfectly, making her want more.

But he didn't give it to her. He pushed off the desk, and reached for his cell phone,

his mood abruptly changing. Just when she thought he was leaving, he reached to a strap
around his boot, and pulled out a compact looking gun. He laid it on the desk.

"Just in case."
She stared at it. "Sam..."
"I won't argue about this." He went through a few basic instructions with her. She

listened despite her dislike for guns. What else could she do?

"Got it?" he asked after he was through.

"I think."
He brushed hair from her eyes. "I'm sure you won't need it, but I want to know

you have it."

She tried to smile, but couldn't. "Thanks Sam," she said in a very low voice, but

with sincerity. He was only trying to protect her and she knew it.

Moments later, he was gone, leaving her with only a cold, steel weapon, and her

thoughts of him.

* * * *

Meagan joined the dance team not long after Sam left, dressed in the workout

clothes she kept at the studio. If ever there was a time she needed to get lost in her dance,
this was it.

Hours later she hadn't had one thought about her stalker, though she couldn't say

the same about Sam. It was near five o'clock, and the day was seemingly eventless. Then
abruptly all hell broke lose.

The fire alarm sounded.
Meagan felt a chill creep up her spine. Instantly, she knew Nathan was

responsible. Silently, she was thankful for the gun Sam had left her. She had stuck it in
her gym bag which was sitting at her feet. Why? She wasn't sure. She had even laughed
at herself as she had done it.

Why hadn't the security men come in to tell them what was going on?
The dancers, twenty total, were starting to shuffle about. The room was filled with

murmurs. "Hey, everyone," Meagan yelled. "Head towards the entrance."

"Is there a fire?" Debbie, one of the youngest dancers, a pretty blond, asked.
How was she supposed to know? But she didn't say it. Debbie was young and

scared and Meagan was on edge. Instead she said, "I'm sure it's a false alarm, but let's not
take any chances."

The dancers scurried towards the door as Meagan grabbed her bag and flung it

over her shoulder. She didn't smell smoke. The studio wasn't very big. Surely, if there
was a fire, she would smell smoke.

And where were the damn security guards.

* * * *

Sam was ready to chew nails by the time he headed from the beachfront video

shoot to his car. His feet crunched gravel as he walked the mile to his parking spot. The
place had been so damn crowded when he arrived, he couldn't even get through with his
car.

He still couldn't figure out why someone had passed out flyers saying the stars

were signing autographs. The crowds were crazy. And crazier when they found out it
wasn't true.

His cell phone rang. "Kellar here."
"Sam, we have a problem." It was Bryan Marks, his second in command. "The

west studio fire alarm is going off, but none of the guards are answering their radios. I
have the fire department on their way, and I'm headed there now."

Meagan.
Sam started walking faster. "Meagan's there. This could be about Carrington."
"I'm on the move as we speak," Bryan reassured him. "I had the same thought."
Sam stopped dead in his tracks. The minute his car came into view, he noticed his

two back tires. Flat. "Shit!" he blurted into the air. The autograph flyers had been a set-up
to get him away from Meagan. He couldn't believe he'd been so damn stupid.

"What is it?" Bryan demanded.
"Get your ass to the studio and call the police. It's Carrington. My tires are

slashed."

Bryan muttered a curse. "I'm on it, boss." The line went dead.
Sam turned and began running towards the video shoot. He needed a ride.
Now.

* * * *

Meagan had managed to get every dancer out of the building without anyone

crying or being trampled. With a group of young panicked dancers, that was a feat. She
was about to head out the door herself when she heard her name, spoken with a raspy,
demanding voice that inched down her nerve endings like icy fingers.

She turned, clutching the strap to her bag, to find Nathan standing behind her. He

held a gun. One look at that cold steel told her it was a much bigger weapon than the one
Sam had left her. Not that size mattered. A bullet was a bullet. It looked damn
intimidating though. And he seemed far too comfortable holding it.

Meagan thought of making a run for it. But then, what if he shot into the crowd?
She couldn't let that happen. "What do you want, Nathan?"
His eyes seemed to darken. "Don't play games with me, Meagan. You know what

I want." He motioned with his gun for her to walk in front of him.

She didn't move. "There isn't a fire, is there?"
He smiled. Evil. Proud. "Not yet. Now move or I'll walk out that door and cause

some pain."

She moved knowing she had no option. As she passed him, his hand snaked out

and grabbed her arm. He ran his free hand through her hair, stepping close, pressing his
groin to her hip as his mouth went to her ear. "Just think," he whispered sending his hot
breath down her neck, making her want to jerk free. Knowing she couldn't. "Soon we will
be alone."

Meagan forced herself to remain perfectly still, not moving, suppressing the

disgusted shiver that inched its way with a horrid force through her body. Thinking about
her dancers, not herself, was all that kept her reaction in check. It felt like an eternity
before he released her, slowly sliding his hands from her hair, as his nose lingering in the
strands, sniffing her like an animal.

The barrel of the gun came in contact with her side, moving along it, starting at

her waist, and then sliding up, up, until he grazed the side of her breasts. She squeezed
her eyes shut, mortified. "Walk," he said. "I'm growing impatient to get on with this."

She cleared her throat, unable to find her voice without effort. "Where?"
"The bathroom," he bit out, irritation, or maybe agitation in his voice. She wasn't

sure.

She walked, taking a large enough step in front of her to start unzipping her bag

without him seeing. The gun was clearly her only chance.

One step. A small movement of the zipper. Two steps. A little more. Silently, she

sent a little prayer upward, for courage, for nerve, for luck, and anything else that might
be bestowed on her. She welcomed the help.

And Sam.
Just let Sam get here.
She was walking at gunpoint, clearly on the path to death or at least hell, and she

knew, with no doubt, Sam was what she needed. Now, to save her from Nathan. But also
beyond this moment in time.

He wasn't her father. Sam had been angry at her, yet he hadn't argued with her,

hadn't put her down. He hadn't even raised his voice. Sam was not her father, and he
wasn't the devil trying to steal her freedom.

"Hurry up," Nathan said, digging the gun in her back.
Nathan, on the other hand, had some definite resemblance to Satan himself.
Meagan stepped into the bathroom, lights out, knowing the coverage of the

darkness was her chance to go for the gun. Yanking at the zipper, she reached inside, felt
the steel in her palm, but fumbled it.

Nathan came up behind her, wrapping his arm around her stomach. She wanted to

throw up, he was so near. He smelled of sweat, nasty and hot. And there was something
else in the air, and lurking on his skin, a chemical.

Before she could ask what the smell was, he said, "We're going out that window,"

he said, pointing the gun over her shoulder and above the sink. "You'll go first. If you try
to run, I'll shoot you. It's that simple."

She nodded, fighting the urge to gag. The harshness of the smells inched through

the air with a thick stench. Pushing away the feelings of nausea, she focused on escape.
The chance to get the gun was slipping away. Staying focused was critical. If she went
for it now, they might struggle. She wasn't sure she could win. Especially in the
extremely small bathroom. He'd have an edge. It was a tiny square room, smaller than her
vanity area at home. So far he hadn't said anything about her bag. But he would when she
tried to climb out of the window. The moments to act were slipping away.

"First, turn and face me," he said gruffly.
She did. Quickly. Nervous. He surprised her by flipping on the light. She blinked,

trying to focus. He held up a matchbook. "The hallway floor is lined with gas. When I tell
you to get the hell out of the window, I suggest you move." He sounded proud of himself.
It showed in the expression on his face, the tone of his voice. "Now, hop up on the sink
and get that damn window open."

To hell with the bag.
Meagan dropped it at her feet. She just wanted out the damn window. In a swift

turn she hiked herself up on the sink, stood up, and yanked at the window until it opened.
Thank god it was a big window. But high. So damn high.

She let out a trembling breath.
A broken bone was better than a burned body.
She heard the match strike, turned just as the sound of igniting flames filled the

room. Red, and orange, and even blue flared high, fast, and hot. Nathan screamed
something. The flames were too close. He had miscalculated. She stared, spellbound,

waiting for him to tell her she could move, afraid he would shoot her, but not wanting to
wait on the flames.

"Get out now!" he yelled moving towards her. She started to turn, and then,

mindlessly, acting on desperation, she turned back towards him. Her foot landed on his
chest, shoving him, pushing him towards the flames. He stumbled. She turned to the
window, not wanting to see the results of what she had just done.

The moment he hit the flames, his cry danced across her skin, wretched and

painful. She bit her bottom lip, drawing blood, but not caring. She looked out the
window. It was too dark to see. She didn't have time to think.

She just jumped.
And prayed.
If she lived, the tears would come later.

* * * *

Sam arrived at the studio, in the passenger side of one of the security guards'

white Ford trucks. He had the door open before the vehicle was even in park. There were
police and fire vehicles everywhere.

Sam took off running towards the building as Bryan moved towards him. "Where

is she?" Sam asked urgently.

"She's fine, just shook up," Bryan said, reassuring him. Though Bryan and Sam

weren't what Sam would call friends, Bryan wasn't a dumb man. He knew what was
going on between Sam and Meagan. Sam had seen understanding in his eyes when he had
coordinated Meagan's extra security.

Sam let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. Thank God she was

safe.

Bryan continued, "You were right, it was Carrington. He tried to kidnap her, but

she's a tough one, that Meagan. She caused him more harm than he did her. He's lucky to
be alive."

Sam nodded. "Anyone else hurt?"
"Not a one," Bryan said. "We were lucky."
Sam wanted to know the rest, but mostly he wanted to see Meagan himself, with

his own eyes, to know she was okay. "Call me with an update tomorrow. You're in
charge," he said, already walking away, heading towards the ambulance.

Sam found Meagan sitting inside the vehicle on the edge of a stretcher having her

pulse taken by an EMS worker. She had dirt all over her arms and legs, smears of
mascara down her face proving she had been crying, and her hair was wild. To Sam, she
looked beautiful. He just stood there, looking at her for long moments, until her eyes
lifted to his.

"Sam," she whispered and instantly started crying again.
Sam stepped up into the ambulance as he and the EMS person exchanged a quick

look. "Is she safe to go home?" The man nodded, and then quickly exited seeming to
understand their need to be alone.

Meagan went into his arms, clinging to him, crying with such intensity her body

shook. He held her, rubbing her back, and whispering comforting words.

"I pushed him into the fire, Sam. To burn, and ... and die."

He stroked her back, taken aback by her words, but not sorry for her actions.

"You did what was necessary to survive. He lived."

She leaned back, swiping angrily at her tears with her hands. "He was burned

badly."

"I, of all people, know what survival means," he said, slipping his hands around

her neck, thinking of his days as a Ranger. "You only did what any other human would
have done. You fought for your life. It's natural. Instinctive."

She sniffed, her hands covering his. "I can still hear his screams in my head."
"And you will for a while," Sam said. "It's the way the mind works. It will get

better each day."

"I ... I seem to always be crying around you," she said softly.
He smiled, tenderly, feeling emotions he had never felt before. Love. "I'm honored

to be the person you would lean on, Meagan Tippan."

"You are?" she asked, her gaze a bit shy. A rare thing for Meagan, he thought.
He pinned her in his gaze. "Yes. Very."
She searched his expression for long moments. The she slipped her arms around

him pressing her cheek to his chest. "Take me home, Sam."

He stroked her hair. "You got it, Sweetheart."

Chapter Nine

Sam was asleep next to her.
Without even opening her eyes, Meagan could smell the soft male, addictive scent

of him. Slowly, she opened her eyes. She was lying on her back. He was on his stomach
with his arm draped over her waist.

It could have been a perfect moment.
Except for one thing.
They hadn't had sex in four days.
That's how long it had been since the Nathan incident. Sam had hardly left her

side having taken off of work, stayed at her house, and basically been there when she
needed him.

Except for one thing.
No sex.
He hadn't touched her. Not from a lack of effort on her part. At first, he had said it

was because she was too upset. That she needed to recover. But even when she felt back
to her normal self he had been hands off. He slept in the bed with her, held her, and
touched her. They had talked about everything from elementary school to favorite foods.
She had told Sam how her father had left her mother for a younger woman, after years of
making her practically beg for his approval.

She never told anyone that. No one. But she told Sam.
They were getting along wonderfully. She wasn't afraid of him anymore.
But damn him, there had been, absolutely, no sex.
It was about to kill her.
Granted the first two days, she had been a wreck, complete with some sort of post

trauma. At least, that's what her doctor had called it. But now she was just fine. It was
clearly time to act.

Reaching for his hand, she slid it up. To her breast.
"Sam," she whispered, running her hand through his hair.
Meagan knew the instant he woke up. His hand flexed on her breast, ever so

slightly. She covered it with her own hand, and then slid down and around to face him.
He did the same so they lay, face to face, his hand still in place beneath hers.

"Meagan," he said as if were a plea.
"I want you, Sam," she said looking in his eyes, letting him see her desire. "Stop

treating me like some kind of china doll." Then, in a softer voice, she asked, "Don't you
want me?"

He didn't say a word, but his hand squeezed her breast, and then slowly began to

knead. She swallowed a moan. "Does that mean yes?"

A slow smile turned up his lips. "Most definitely."
He moved, rolling her onto her back as he slid on top of her, nudging her thighs

apart with his knees, as he settled between her thighs. His lips settled on hers, soft and
tender, sending tingling sensation through her whole body.

She made a little sound of pleasure. He smiled against her lips. "You always make

those sounds when I kiss you."

"I do, don't I?" she asked, but it wasn't really a question. She was already pressing

her mouth to his again, wanting to feel them against her own, wanting to taste him. "I
can't seem to help it."

"I like that you can't help it," he said softly, as he gently nipped her bottom lip

with his teeth. She made that little sound again. It just seemed to happen when he kissed
her. Kissing him felt so good. Better than sex with some men.

As if he was touching her all over.
Somehow, they melted together, chest to breasts, soaking in the feel of body to

body. She wasn't even aware of their movement. His hands were suddenly everywhere,
touching her, making her ache, making her wet. All the while, he kept kissing her with
those drugging, wet, perfect kisses.

His hands moved up her shirt. Actually, his shirt. She had taken a liking to

wearing his shirts. They smelled like him, made her feel close to him. His palm brushed
her nipple. "Take this off," he said hoarsely. More than happy to oblige, Meagan shifted
her arms, and tugged the shirt over her head. Sam helped, seeming just as impatient as
she was to get rid of it.

She was now down to a tiny slice of light blue panties. He wore only briefs. Sam

made basic white briefs look like a special treat designed to satisfy women. She could
feel his erection, hot and heavy, pressing between her thighs, near her own heat. He
pressed them together, his hardness to her softness, teasing them both with how close
they were to penetration.

How could four days feel like so long? Oh, but it did. Meagan wrapped her arms

around his neck as his mouth slanted over hers, kissing her lightly, then passionately,
then lightly once again. He took his time, savoring the kisses, making her hotter and
wetter with every stroke of his tongue, every caress of his lips.

His hands traveled her body, making her ache, losing concept of time and reality.

Soon his hands found that tiny blue strip. He pushed to his knees, pulling them over her
hips as his hands lingered on her skin, inch by inch, as he moved them down her thighs.

Once they were gone, he simply stared down at her, his hands sliding up her hips,

and then one hand flattened on her stomach. "You have no idea how much restraint I
have used the past few days."

"Why have you?" she asked.
He shoved his underwear down his legs, disposing of them. Sliding down her

body, settling his hard length between her legs, he leaned over her, weight on his elbows.
"You'd been through a lot, for one. And because I wanted to show you, not just tell you,
this is more than sex to me," he said. Then he smiled, "Somehow, this doesn't seem the
time to make that particular declaration."

She slid her arms around his neck, smiling softly. "I started this, not you. It's a

perfect time."

He brushed his lips across hers, lingering for long moments. "Then it's the perfect

time for you to tell me how you feel."

She sighed, and he covered her mouth, absorbing it, making a soft sound of his

own. "Tell me," he urged against her lips. A whisper, hoarse, with a hint of urgency.
"How do you feel, Meg?"

"At this very moment?"
He trailed kisses down her jaw to her neck. "I'll take whatever you're willing to

share," he said, nipping her lobe with his teeth and sending little chill bumps down her
skin. But his words pushed through the physical, making her go utterly still. He wouldn't
push her. Not now, not ever. Sam was everything she thought he wasn't, caring, sensitive,
understanding. She sighed. He moved to look at her. "What did that mean?"

She touched his jaw with her fingertips. "I'm getting very attached to you, Sam. If

you don't want that then run."

He smiled, shifting to kiss her fingertips. "I have no intentions of running. I did

that from the moment I met you." He hesitated. "Now I know, if I'm completely honest
with myself, it's because I knew, even then, how much you would mean to me."

They stared at each other, the connection intense, mesmerizing, reaching through

the air, and pulling them together. Slowly, Sam shifted, positioning the tip of his erection
above her. "I want you, Meagan."

She swallowed. "I want you, too."
He slipped inside her, slow, easy, sinking inch by inch into her depths as he stared

into her eyes. Buried deep inside her, unmoving, he kissed her. It was a long, passionate
kiss, both gentle yet demanding. When he pulled his lips from hers, he buried his face in
her hair, brushing her neck with his lips, as he slowly began to move. Long, enduring
strokes pushed her eyes shut, and made her suck in a breath.

She clung to him.
Her arms wrapped around him, pressing her breasts towards his chest, her fingers

on his shoulders, arching towards him, needing more. And he gave it, stroke by stroke.
He increased the tempo, easing her higher, and higher. Emotion welled inside her,
wanting him on so many levels, reaching to him with her body, but also her entire self.

His hands moved beneath her, cupping her butt, arching her into him. She made a

sound of pleasure; probably more than one, she wasn't sure. She just wanted and needed
him.

Loved him.
He was breathing louder now, kissing her in between thrusts, moving harder,

deeper, more completely. They moved together, hard, fast, fervent in their coming
together. Her head was back, her eyes shut, her heart and body open. Her body clenched,
wanting, pushing over the edge. She was about to come.

And then she said it. It just came out. "I love you, Sam."
The words were a mere whisper in her throat, because her orgasm was already

happening, making her feel that sweet bliss of relief that makes everything else disappear.
Sam thrust into the spasms, burying himself, arching his back, and then shuddering with
his own release. She was vaguely aware of her name on his lips.

When they were both finally sated, wiped out from the intensity of their releases,

Sam moved to brace his weight on his elbows. He stared down at her, and Meagan
pressed her eyes shut. How could she have spoken those words out loud?

"Meagan, look at me." His voice wasn't distant or cold or even upset. It was

warm, and prodding.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. "You love me?" he asked with a hint of a smile

lurking at the corners of his lips.

She barely got the words out. "I didn't mean to say that."

"So you don't love me?"
They were still intimately connected. He was making conversation and denial of

the truth, difficult. "I just didn't mean to say it."

He smiled, damn him. "So you do love me?"
She shut her eyes again, embarrassment taking control. Then, she felt his lips,

soft, loving, and something else. Acceptance of a sort.

"I love you, too," he said against her mouth, lightly brushing his lips back and

forth across hers.

Her hands went to his shoulders. "You do?"
He looked down at her, his eyes gleaming with amusement, "Yes, I do. Is that a

problem?"

Her eyes narrowed, searching his for the truth. "No problem. Just surprise."
He grinned. "Then, asking you to marry me would really throw you for a loop,

right?"

She blinked. No way. "Marry you?"
"Yes," he said running his finger down her cheek, "be my wife, have my kids,

make love to me morning, noon, and night. I love you, Meagan. Say yes, and we'll go
pick out a ring today."

Meagan's eyes started to burn. "Are you sure?"
"I've never been surer of anything in my life. Marry me."
Meagan smiled through the tears that were beginning to well in her eyes. "Yes, I'll

marry you."

He kissed her then, lovingly, sweetly. "I have a special request, though," he said

against her lips.

"What's that?"
"Wherever we decide to live, we keep the green couch. I've developed a fondness

for it."

The End.


About the Author:

Lisa Jones lives in Austin, Texas, a college town where sexy cowboys and UT

Football players almost seem to be the harvest. The eye candy produced stimulates the,
um, well, mind. Needless to say, Lisa doesn't have trouble conjuring up new men for her
books.

Having spent years in the corporate world, Lisa laughs at the shocked reactions

her ex-peers have when they read her writing. Her response ... every good girl has a fun,
slightly naughty one dying to get out.

Hers is loose and loving it!

We invite you to visit Liquid Silver Books

http://www.liquidsilverbooks.com

for other exciting literary erotica romances.

Waiting For You—Glenda Diana

Weekend Games—Chris Tanglen

Destiny's Magick—Rae Morgan

Love Lessons—Vanessa Hart

Portal—Sydney Morgann

Bittersweet—Louisa Trent

Business or Pleasure ... or Both?—Rae Morgan and Jasmine Haynes

And many, many more!!