Dear Sir, I’m Yours

Joely Sue Burkhart

Chapter One

Dear Dr. Connagher:

A simple letter probably isn’t the best way to tell you all of this, but I need to write this out as much for myself, as for you. If we talked on the phone, I don’t think I could get it all out

—fear, longing, turmoil, and most of all, the agony. Every moment I’m not there with you is torture.

If I’d met you this past Friday night as we agreed, I couldn’t have sat there on our first real date and told you the truth. It’s not that you’d intimidate me, or scare me, exactly. It’s me.

I lose my will when I’m with you.

I’d do anything to be with you, which scares me to death.

So this really is for the best. I know it. But it doesn’t make it any easier.

Daddy was in an accident Friday afternoon at his jobsite and nearly died. I’ve spent the last few days at the hospital, waiting with my family to see if he’ll live, how badly he’ll be handicapped. He’s never going to be the same, and he’ll have years of physical therapy and doctor’s visits. I need to stay here. I need to help Mom, try to find a way to pay his medical bills, and save his business. I don’t know when, if ever, I’ll be returning to Drury University.

Finishing my degree is the last thing on my mind right now, even though I only have a few semesters left.

Every single word of that is true. However, it’s also true that I didn’t have my car loaded to come back to campus before the accident. I hadn’t decided to come back to you.

Self-preservation, Conn. I have to protect myself. When I’m with you, I want what you want. I don’t even know what I want. You hurt me in your office. You embarrassed me. And yet you made me feel incredible, too. You made me want you to hurt me. How messed up is that?

Yet I lie awake at night remembering, and it’s all I can do not to jump in my car and drive straight to you.

I know you’ll never read this. You hate e-mail. It would be better to mail it to your office.

But what if someone read it by accident? True, again, but it’s also true that maybe deep down in my dark, scary place only you’ve seen, I really don’t want you to read this at all.

~ Rae

Current Day

The job was perfect, she needed the money badly, and working for a college professor’s elderly grandmother should be a piece of cake. Yet butterflies the size of Texas crashed and burned in Rae’s stomach.

The little old lady couldn’t possibly know the truth: Five years ago, her grandson had bent Rae over his desk the last day of finals, spanked her, and given her the best orgasm of her life.

She hadn’t seen him since, although not a single night had gone by that she didn’t remember…and ache for him to do it again.

Besides, Conn wouldn’t be here—a fifteen-minute drive into the country from campus—

in the middle of the semester. He certainly wasn’t the kind of man to live at home with his grandma. The ridiculous thought made her laugh out loud nervously.

Idling her truck, Rae stared at the dilapidated iron gate and gnawed on her lip. Someone had attempted to put up a shiny new sign that read Healy House but it hung askew, revealing Beulah written in rusted ivy. A nice pile of cash would go a long ways to keep the hospital bills from swallowing her parents’ meager disability income, but the real lure was the promise of restoring a fantastic old house.

That’s why she hadn’t told the old lady no on the phone as soon as Miss Belle bragged about her college professor grandson. Fixing up houses was Rae’s specialty, the older the better. According to Miss Belle, her house had been built in 1850. Turning a Missouri plantation house into a Bed and Breakfast would be a challenge for “The Fix-It Lady”.

Driving her rusted-out Ford truck down the oak- and maple-lined driveway, Rae felt her heartbeat speed with anticipation despite the queasy, gnawing pit of nerves in her stomach. The ancient trees would be gorgeous in a couple of weeks once the leaves started to turn color.

At last the house appeared. Peeling white paint, wide grand front porch, two stories—the house took her breath away. She parked the truck and got out for a better look. The roof needed some work, she thought, noting bubbled-up shingles. Scraped and painted, the porch would look as good as new. With climbing roses running wild all over the railing and up the columns, the air was filled with incredible spice and color.

Rae wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans, cleared her throat in preparation, and raised her finger toward the doorbell.

“Coming, dear!”

Reflexively, she went ahead and rang the doorbell anyway. The old lady must have heard her truck drive up. Beveled glass sparkled in the rich mahogany door, but one pane in the lower right-hand corner must have fallen out. The hole was covered with a brown paper bag and masking tape. A stained-glass panel would look gorgeous framed in the ancient door.

Moments later, the front door opened and Miss Belle invited her inside. From her floppy, wide-brimmed straw hat tied with a pink scarf to her shirtwaist pink dress and her perfect white heels, Miss Belle was the epitome of a southern lady. Her silvered strawberry hair probably would have clashed dreadfully with the pink dress twenty years ago, before age toned it down.

Sharp eyed and smooth skinned, the old lady looked about fifty or sixty instead of the eighty she must be.

“I’m Rae Jackson, the Fix-It Lady. We talked on the phone?”

Miss Belle looked her up and down, noting her jeans and boots. She’d probably examine Rae’s fingernails too and sniff with disdain. She hadn’t even bothered to put her hair in a ponytail today.

“Come in, Miss Jackson, and let’s have a nice long chat. I need to get to know you better before I decide whether to hire you or not.”

So that’s where Conn had gained the habit of formality with his students. The memory made her cheeks burn. He’d always been a stickler in class, polite and formal with his quiet command of respect. In his office, though…

Pushing away those painful memories, she glanced about frantically to assure herself he really wasn’t there as the old lady led her deeper into the house. The rooms had already been decorated and refurbished with fresh paint in lovely Victorian colors on the walls and antique furniture. The plush velvet divan and delicately carved chairs with cushions of dusty rose just about made Rae swoon.

The library was even more fantastic. Built-in shelves from floor to ceiling were loaded down with leather-bound books. Sunlight filtered in through white sheers, casting lacy patterns on a massive cherry desk positioned before the bay window.

Miss Belle took off her hat and set it on the desk as she sat. “Tell me a little about yourself, Miss Jackson.”

Rae sat in the sapphire blue wing-back chair before the desk. “I’ve worked on several restorations and can—”

“No, no.” Miss Belle leaned forward, her pale blue eyes sharp. “I know all about the jobs you’ve done. I want to know about you.”

Most people wanted extensive references before investing thousands of dollars in an unknown contractor. What kind of checking had Miss Belle done on her? “I was born and raised here in Missouri—”

“Where?”

“Outside Bolivar. My—”

“Does your family still live there?”

Giving up control of this interview, Rae nodded. “Daddy had a contracting business for years. He was injured some years ago—”

“When?”

“Five years. He was electrocuted and nearly died.”

“Oh dear.” Miss Belle took out a hanky and lightly dabbed her eyes, although Rae didn’t see any evidence of tears. “Five years ago, when you left Drury?”

“Yes.” Rae shut her mouth, determined not to go into more detail about that last semester of college, let alone that last class with the old lady’s grandson. Daddy’s accident had required she stay home to help take care of him, and that was all Miss Belle needed to know. “He’s still in a wheelchair and can’t speak very well, but he’s doing okay.”

“And so you took over his business?”

“Not exactly.” She fought not to drop her gaze from the old lady’s. “I’ve worked with Daddy for years, but ran into difficulties with his business. We were forced to shut it down about a year ago.”

Wow, that was certainly a vanilla, polite way of saying her ex-husband had run the company—and her—into the ground. Of course, her clients didn’t need to know the gruesome details of a business and marriage gone bad.

Miss Belle hummed, low and soft, the complete opposite of her eyes. Rae fought not to squirm in her seat like an unruly kid. “And so the Fix-It Lady business is all yours.”

“Daddy’s motto was to fix it right the first time. That’s what I aim to do.”

“Making it Right.” Miss Belle smiled, a flash of shark’s teeth. “Your slogan.”

“Absolutely,” Rae said, leaning forward slightly. “I love old houses, and I know the good sub-contractors thanks to working for Daddy all those years. I don’t do all the work myself—I pick the best people for the job and then babysit them so you don’t have to.”

“Ah, now, that’s what I want to discuss. I’m looking for more than a general contractor. I want someone on site twenty-four hours a day.”

Rae blinked and sat back, stunned.

“I’m opening a Bed and Breakfast here as soon as Beulah Land—” She huffed and slapped her hand on the desk in irritation, making Rae jump in her seat. “As soon as Healy House is in top shape. It’s an old house and I expect little things to come up all the time, plumbing issues, whatever. I want someone here with general fix-it knowledge who can call in the big guns when necessary.”

Disappointment welled, actually burning her eyes. She definitely needed the money, but she would’ve loved to fix up this old house. “You want a maintenance person, not a contractor.”

“I want both,” Miss Belle insisted. “I want you.”

Her stomach pitched, rolled, and sank as rapidly as the Titanic. How much did the old lady know? “Why me?”

“I’m looking for a property manager who’s able to do light maintenance as well as manage the books down the road. That’s why I must be able to trust the person I hire. That’s why I want you.”

This got weirder by the minute, but Rae didn’t sense that the old lady knew her personal history with her grandson. So far, she hadn’t even mentioned his name. “I’m a contractor. I don’t know how to keep books.”

“What did you major in at Drury?”

Rae’s head spun. Please, please, don’t ask me about his class. “Business Administration.”

“And Accounting, right?”

“Well, yeah—”

“There you have it.” Miss Belle smiled triumphantly.

No condemnation or the dreaded inquisition she’d feared, but Rae felt manipulated just the same. “I never finished my degree. I’m good with my hands, not books.”

“Balderdash.” Miss Belle laughed gaily and reached into a drawer for a file folder. When she raised her gaze, Rae flinched at the sudden intensity. “Here’s the most important question, Miss Jackson. Are you a woman of your word? When you make a promise, do you keep it?”

A trickle of icy cold settled on her neck and Rae shivered. She’d better check for drafts from the cellar. “I can’t tell a lie to save my life, Miss Belle.” Which had gotten her into a heap of trouble, oddly enough. “When I give my word, I do everything in my power to keep it.”

Including marriage oaths to a jerk well past when a sane woman would kick his ass out.

The chill disappeared and Miss Belle pulled out a piece of paper. She smiled and slid the paper across the desk. By the hard cold gleam in the old lady’s eyes, Rae picked it up as gingerly as a snake.

“This is my offer. I had my attorney draft a contract for me.”

Attorney, shit. Shaking her head, Rae scanned the paper. Her jaw hit the floor.

A forty-thousand-dollar salary with a two-grand signing bonus. Room and board included. Stipulations for three weeks off the first year. Another stipulation that as soon as she finished her degree, she would automatically be promoted to business manager with a hefty bonus and increase in salary. Tuition reimbursement, of course.

In addition, a percentage of the profits would make her a part owner in the venture. All with a thirty-day trial and initial commitment period, after which she could break the contract for any reason and still keep the bonus.

She could work here indefinitely and be handsomely compensated.

Blinking back tears, she scanned the document again. Did the old lady have any idea what this meant to her and her family? She’d be able to pay off her father’s lingering medical bills and hire a part-time nurse. She’d be able to go back to college.

It was a dream come true.

She scanned the document again. Even uniforms and work clothes were covered with a ridiculously large monthly expense allowance. How many pairs of jeans did she need? “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Miss Belle said smugly. “It’s all there in black and white.”

Rae was tempted to pull out a magnifying glass and scan the edges for secret phrases.

“What if the Bed and Breakfast flops? If you can’t get enough people in here to keep the doors open?”

“Money is not important to me, Miss Jackson. Thanks to Colonel Healy, my dearly departed husband, I have no need to make money on this venture. It’s purely entertainment for me. If we get a few customers per year, then I’ll be happy.”

“Why me?” Raising her gaze, Rae searched the old woman’s face one last time. She wanted to ask about Conn, but his name choked her. If there was any chance at all that he might come here… Hope and dread, both, twisted her stomach into knots. Why couldn’t she simply forget him? “I’m not qualified—”

“Bullshit.”

Rae flinched at the harsh tone and language from the southern belle.

“Do you honestly think I didn’t thoroughly investigate your background before ever extending an invitation to come for an interview? I already knew you were the one I wanted to hire before you drove onto my property. I just needed to make sure. You had to pass one last test.” Miss Belle grinned and winked suggestively. “Well, two actually.”

Oh, God, how much does the old lady know? Rae blushed, remembering another test years ago in Conn’s office that could have gotten him fired. She’d been such a naïve idiot!

Instead of writing him pathetic letters all these years that she never had the courage to mail, she should have reported him to the dean. Maybe then she wouldn’t still be haunted by the memories of him, his low rough voice at her ear, the glide of his big palm across her back and down her buttocks…

Swaying slightly, she forced that memory away, but his scent lingered.

No, not him. The rich scent of old leather books permeated the entire room. Conn had smelled exactly like a library mixed with spice and the dark, subtle scent of a very dangerous man. He’d been far from the long-haired tweed-coat wearing, pipe-smoking English professor she’d expected.

“Take my offer, Miss Jackson.”

Until Miss Belle spoke, Rae’d forgotten she was even there. The old lady’s knowing little wink sent another flutter of dread through her stomach.

“I assure you, this venture will be very profitable for both of us.”

Biting her lip, Rae scanned the document again, even flipping it over to make sure she hadn’t missed something on the back. Everything was in order. She’d be a fool not to take such a lucrative offer.

And if I run into Conn again…?

I’ll kick him in the groin like I should have done the first time he laid hands on me.

Miss Belle held out a pen with a huge pink feather on the end. Rae took it, scanned the key points again. Her palms were sweaty, but her fingers felt cold. Chills crept down her spine again, hair rising on the back of her neck. Goose bumps raced down her arms. Pressure built behind her eardrums, like she was driving up Pike’s Peak.

She signed her name.

Snatching the pen from her numb fingers, Miss Belle quickly scratched her name below Rae’s and her ears suddenly popped. The sudden release made her jump.

Miss Belle smiled widely. “Welcome to Healy House.”

Something tinkled rather loudly. Rae glanced up and the crystal chandelier rocked back and forth above the desk, casting rainbows around the room wildly.

Miss Belle sighed. “Also known as Beulah Land over sixty years ago. Let me give you the grand tour, Rae Lynn.”

With the flashlight gripped in her fist, Rae pushed her shoulders through the crawlspace beneath Miss Belle’s back porch. Colonel Healy had designed the addition in honor of their daughter’s birth nearly sixty years ago. Rae cast the light up at the floor boards. Nice solid heavy beams. They didn’t build houses like this anymore. She checked the closest footing, digging dirt away from the concrete.

“The porch and addition are in good shape, Miss Belle. Let me check the foundation real quick, but I don’t think you’ve got any problems outside the house. It’s good, real good.”

“Aren’t you afraid of spiders?” Miss Belle demanded. “It’s not natural for a young lady to be crawling around in dark spaces like that. Who knows what kind of creepy-crawlies are in there.”

In Rae’s experience, the creepy-crawlies weren’t bugs under a porch at all but real live people. “I’m fine, Miss Belle.”

She wiggled her shoulders deeper beneath the house to get a better look. The dirt was dry but rich, good smelling, not dank with mold or slime. Good stuff. But it was the foundation of the original structure that she most wanted to see.

She cast the light over the tight stones. This old plantation house put brand new tract homes to shame. “Looks good, Miss Belle. I don’t think you’ll have any leaking problems into your basement for years yet. I—”

“Why didn’t you call me?” A male voice interrupted. “I want to meet your contractor before you sign anything.”

Rae’s heart slammed against her ribs. Every feminine instinct screamed a warning. She froze, glad she was mostly under the porch. Except for her lower body. Shit, shit, shit. On her knees, ass in the air, dirt in her hair… And that voice…

Oh, God. Not him, please. Anybody but him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Verrill. I can take care of myself.”

Relief washed over her and she let her forehead rest against her forearm a minute. She didn’t know any Verrill. Deep breaths, calm—she had no reason to be worried, let alone hopeful, excited, terrified…

“If you call me that, then I get to call you Grandma.”

“Oh, Conn,” Miss Belle growled out a laugh. Rae heard the slap on his arm. “I want you to meet someone.”

Conn.

She couldn’t breathe. Five years might have passed, but he still possessed the ability to reduce her to a twenty-one-year-old English student again, drooling over her sexy professor.

Betrayal choked her. The old lady had set her up. Had he been in on the joke? Furious tears burned her eyes.

Maybe the fantastic old house would suddenly break apart and bury her in rubble. She’d rather die than face him again.

He gave a low whistle. “Hello, gorgeous.”

Her brain skittered with panic, her sudden intake of breath echoing beneath the porch.

Great, just great. He was staring at her ass. Heat flared beneath her jeans as if he’d smacked her. Again.

Maybe he won’t remember me.

Her heart clenched in agony.

“The Fix-It Lady has accepted my offer. Rae Lynn, come on out and meet my grandson.”

Wait a minute, meet? So maybe Miss Belle didn’t know the whole sordid truth.

“Rae?”

The sudden intensity of his voice rocked her with panic. She scrambled deeper beneath the porch. He caught her foot, his powerful hands shackling her leg. She kicked back with her other foot, catching him solidly with her boot. Hopefully in the head.

He grunted but didn’t let go. Weight trapped her lower body, his arms snaking around her legs, hauling her back. She grabbed at the footing, missed, dug in the soft soil for a root, anything to slow him.

Miss Belle shrieked. If she’d carried a parasol, the old lady would be beating him over the head with it. “What are you doing? Let go of her this minute, Verrill Connagher! Don’t you know how to treat a lady?”

Grappled inch by inch backwards into the open, Rae wanted to die.

He flipped her over, his hands locked on her waist. One more tug and—

“Rae!”

Blinded by the afternoon sun, she swung her fist at his head, grateful she couldn’t see.

She didn’t want to see the face she’d daydreamed about all these years. Those incredible baby blues, changing with his mood from steel gray to brilliant sapphire. One look from those eyes and she’d be lost all over again.

Her heart pounded, her skull split open, her mouth dried like an old bone. She bucked and fought, trying to kick him again.

Don’t touch him. Don’t melt into his arms and burst into tears and wail that I wish—

Pinning her hands on either side of her head, he leaned down over her to block the sun.

She squeezed her eyes shut and averted her face. She strained in vain, knowing he was too strong, always too strong, as strong as she remembered.

“Stop it,” he said gruffly, his voice tight. Anger? Or pain? Had he missed her? Why did the weight of his body against hers have to feel so damned good? “Are you hurt?”

She laughed, wincing at the ragged edge of pain and regret in her voice. “Get off me, Dr.

Connagher.”

“I take it you two know each other?” Miss Belle sniffed loudly. “Honestly, Verrill, do as she says and get up. You can’t scare her off with your intimidation tactics—she’s the best contractor around!”

“Look at me,” he whispered fiercely, lowering his face within inches of hers. Steel-clad velvet, his voice reached into her chest and tugged on her heart.

His panting breath was hot and moist on her cheek, the leathered musk of his cologne achingly familiar. The heat of his body burned into hers, driving her into the ground, and she felt her muscles softening. She arched against him helplessly, but not to escape. Not this time.

So weak, so miserably weak. She braced herself to bear the intensity of his gaze, the force of his will. I can tell him no. I’ve learned that much in five years. Haven’t I?

Slowly, she turned her head and opened her eyes.

All hard angles and shadows, his face had aged, lined and worn but better for that aging.

Like fine whiskey and Sean Connery, he merely got better, more distinctive and impressive over the years. His Oxford white shirt had a dirty boot print over his heart. Ironic, that.

Staring into his eyes, she felt her throat constrict with tears, her eyes filling. No, no, she wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not now.

The chips of ice glittering in his eyes thawed at whatever he saw in her gaze, but he held her pinned beneath him. “Don’t run out on me again.”

She nodded jerkily. He knew she wouldn’t refuse him. She couldn’t. That’s why she’d run the first time. Evidently she hadn’t learned a damned thing.

Immediately, he climbed to his feet and offered her a hand up. Belying the burning fierceness of his gaze, he said lightly, “Rae was a student of mine five years ago.”

“Oh!” Miss Belle clapped her hands, grinning ear to ear. “So you’re the one he spoke of so often. Fabulous. What a coincidence. I hope he gave you an A, Rae Lynn.”

Heat seared her face. Oh, he gave her an A all right.

Talking about coincidence… Suspicious, she glared at the innocent little old lady.

With a breezy smile, Miss Belle flounced back toward the rear of the house. “I’ll see you for dinner, dear.”

“Oh no you won’t,” Rae retorted, her stomach twisting into knots. “I’m not coming back.” Not if he’s here.

Turning slowly to look over her shoulder, Miss Belle arched a brow at her beneath the broad brim of her big straw hat. That look would have scared General Sherman away from Atlanta. “You gave your word, Rae Lynn. You accepted my offer, signed our contract, and I don’t tolerate fools or liars. Besides, remember your slogan.”

With that, Miss Belle disappeared down the trail skipping like a little girl.

Making It Right.

Clenching her teeth, Rae shook her head. It was too late to make it right with Conn.

Five years too late.

Chapter Two

Without meeting Conn’s gaze, Rae turned around and headed for her truck.

Muttering, he strode after her. “You promised not to run out on me again.”

“I’m not running.” Yet she didn’t pause her hasty retreat to her truck. She didn’t even drool over his black Mustang parked in the driveway.

“Rae, please talk to me. Where have you been? What happened to you?”

“I left you a message,” she said faintly. Almost to the truck. If she didn’t look at him, she might make her escape. She patted her front pockets, trying to remember where she’d stuck her keys. Her back pocket, right, nope, left. Shit. What if they’d fallen out beneath the porch?

She’d have to hotwire the truck because she was so not staying here for this conversation.

“One message, so choked with tears I couldn’t understand half of what you said. It’s been five years, Rae.”

She reached out for the handle of her truck, but he seized her arm, dragging her around.

Her gaze darted to the front seat, the dash, the ground, anywhere but his eyes.

“Damn it, Rae, five years! Without a word!”

“I wrote you!” She fumbled her left hand at the door handle, jerked it open, slamming her hip with the door. Trying to tug her arm out of his grasp without showing how panicked she was, she edged closer to escape.

“When?” He tightened his grip on her arm and stepped closer, which allowed her to sidle closer to her truck.

She backed toward the seat, still scanning for the keys. There, on the floorboard. She stretched down, hoping her sweaty arm might slide right out of his grip, but no such luck. “I e-mailed you.”

Which was true. But she also knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he never read his e-mail.

“The internet is the bane of my existence.”

Despite the frustration and hurt ringing between them, she had to smile. He’d said that often in class, cursing the loss of formal letters and communication written intelligently and politely. He believed letter writing was a lost art. She certainly wouldn’t tell him about the stacks of letters she’d written to him over the years and never mailed.

With a quick yank, she finally slid free, dove for the keys and climbed into the seat. Conn wedged his shoulders inside so she couldn’t slam the door on him. Ignoring him, she started the truck.

“Are you even going to look at me?”

“I can’t,” she whispered, staring at her white-knuckled hands on the steering wheel.

“Why not?” He slowed his speech to that seductive Texas drawl that always curled her toes. “Truth, Rae. You promised to always tell me the truth.”

She bit her lip, shaking her head. She couldn’t lie, but she didn’t have to say anything, either.

“All right,” he sighed. Her shoulders sagged with relief. “But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook entirely. You’re going to tell me why you left one way or the other.”

Staring straight ahead, eyes hot and burning, she whispered, “Let me go, Conn.”

“Not on your life, darlin’.” He leaned in, bracing his forearm on the seat beside her. Her heart pounded so hard she swayed, dizzy. “Don’t let Miss Belle down. She needs someone to help her get this old barn into shape by her grand opening, and she obviously likes you. Don’t let our difficulties keep you from helping her.”

“Do you live here?” She hated her fragile, shaky voice, but she didn’t dare take slow, deep breaths. Not with him so close. If she breathed deeply, she might catch a scent of his cologne. Just thinking about it made her mouth water.

“No.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. Shuddering, she closed her eyes, fighting the answering surge of need pulsing through her body. “Take the job, Rae. I won’t interfere, but I do want to see you.” His fingers settled beneath her chin, slowly, inexorably forcing her to meet his gaze.

A mountain fell on her chest, crushing her. She couldn’t breathe beneath the onslaught, the weight and agony of the memories. His hands, his voice, his eyes. Unforgettable.

“I have just one question I need answered, and then I’ll let you go. All right?”

She nodded, tensing for a fight. Too bad she’d climbed behind the steering wheel. She wouldn’t be able to get a good kick at him. I can slug him, though. She curled her right hand into a fist.

The pad of his thumb slid over her lower lip and every muscle in her lower body clenched. Her fingers uncurled and the urge to punch him melted away. Oh God, not a kiss.

How could she fight the very thing she’d dreamed about for five years? She had the insane thought that a single kiss would irreparably seal her to him forever. That she’d never be free of the desire she felt for him, no matter how much heartache he caused her.

No matter how much he hurt her again.

He leaned toward her, his lips parting slightly.

She flinched back as far as the seat let her, merely an inch or two. But it was enough. His face closed down, grooves lined his grim, flat mouth, his shoulders and head drooped, and his eyes shadowed with defeat.

A small sound escaped her mouth, startling her. Disappointment. Regret. She wasn’t sure. Five years ago he hadn’t kissed her, not really. Now, he’d never kiss her. She’d never know the mastery in his mouth, the texture of his lips, the stroke of his tongue.

His head whipped up and his gaze locked on her. His eyes slowly heated, his mouth curling. Now he leaned back toward her slowly with smug certainty, holding her gaze. A switch flipped in him, in her, smoldering from his eyes to her body. “Do you want to find out what I taste like?”

Damn it all to hell, he was arrogant and demanding and she’d never wanted anything more in her entire life than his mouth on hers, right here, right now. Her heart pounded a staccato beat inside her head. Despite the bitter history that lay between them like a wasteland, she still wanted him. Idiot. She croaked out, “Is that your question?”

Heavy lidded, his gaze settled on her mouth. “No. You already answered the first question.”

Hovering over her mouth, he reached across her. Her body jerked alive, tingling and trembling at the hope of his hands. Instead, he snagged something from the seat and brought it up where she could see it. Her business card.

“I’ve been dreaming about how good you’ll taste for five years, darlin’.” He flicked the card and slid it into his shirt pocket. “Go home, wherever that is. Think about how good I’ll taste. Then come back to Beulah Land tonight and help Miss Belle. I—” he stepped back and shut the door for her, “—will call you this time.”

Daddy’s beat-up truck didn’t have air conditioning, so the windows were rolled down.

Staring at Conn, it was all she could do to put the truck in gear and drive away. But she did.

She had to.

Self preservation. She’d learned that lesson from him first and from her ex-husband second. The driveway curved in front of the house, past the grand if peeling front porch. Miss Belle waved a piece of paper as she drove by. “Dinner’s at six o’clock, dear. Wear a dress!”

Rae groaned out loud. It was the damned contract she’d signed. Why, oh, why hadn’t she said no?

Conn had never expected to find the student who’d given him a failing grade on the greatest test of his life crawling beneath Miss Belle’s porch. For years, he’d tormented himself about what happened to Rae after that day in his office, so he was fully prepared for the heavy flood of agonizing guilt.

Yet as soon as he’d seen her, the brutal battle to maintain his self control resumed with a vengeance. Letting her drive away was the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life, with not kissing her senseless in that dusty old truck a close second. Perhaps it’d been a blessing after all when she’d disappeared. He’d already done enough damage.

His stomach churned with burning shame. She should have kicked him a lot lower than in the chest when he’d dragged her out from beneath the porch. In fact, he should have lain down on the ground and let her stomp him into a bloody pulp instead of scaring her off yet again.

Standing on the porch with that knowing look that always said his grandma knew exactly what mishaps he’d gotten himself into, Miss Belle arched a brow at him. “She suits you.

Strong enough to challenge you yet fragile enough to make you work at tenderness, she has a quiet, natural beauty.”

Hell, there wasn’t a single thing quiet about Rae Jackson. From her long brown hair gently curling down her back to her big, dark, solemn eyes that windowed the sweetest, most honest soul in the world to her rounded curves framed in jeans, she made him crazy enough to howl at the moon and snarl at anybody who dared look at her. All right, so maybe she was the quiet one and he was the noisy bastard. He’d change that once he got her into his bed.

Ah, but the acid churned even harder, burning a hole in his gut. She’d never trust him enough to come to his bed. Not after what he’d done. Every semester he’d walked into class after class, hoping to see Rae sitting behind a desk. Another year, another regret, another heartache. “How’d you find her?”

“Never you mind. What did you do to scare her away for so long?”

His jaws ached and he clenched his hands into fists at his sides. He’d been a damned fool, that’s what. He’d pushed Rae too hard, too fast, like an eager college boy and not a man ten years older and well used to controlling himself. A semester of polite and proper flirting had taken its toll and that last day…

That day played in his mind every damned night.

Miss Belle tsked. “The better question, then: Are you going to do it again?”

“No.” His voice came out as raw and rough as gravel. Grimly, he blocked the vision of Rae bound to his bed and spread out for his attention. Slow. Safe. Gentle. If dominance and submission play terrified her, he’d do missionary the rest of his life and die a happy man. “I won’t hurt her again.”

“Do I have your word on that?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Miss Belle smiled and he suddenly felt a great deal of sympathy for Rae. She had no idea what she’d gotten herself into by agreeing to work for his formidable grandmother. After all, he’d learned from the best.

“If you hurt my property manager again, then Colonel Healy will haunt you instead of me.”

Conn laughed, shaking his head. Some days Miss Belle really did seem senile—after all, she was nearly ninety years old—but he’d decided a long time ago to play along. Who knew?

Maybe the dead Colonel really did talk to her. Or maybe she was just as wickedly clever as always. “Has Grandpa’s ghost been tormenting you again?”

“Not a day goes by that man doesn’t stick his nose into my life despite being dead half a dozen years now.” Miss Belle huffed and whirled about in a cloud of pink fluff. “Dress up for dinner tonight.”

His heart leaped, but he tempered that hope with caution and regret. With his control wrecked all to hell, the last thing he wanted to do was scare Rae again. “Do you think she’ll actually come back?”

Miss Belle replied over her shoulder, “Colonel Healy says you can bet your life on it.

Oh, he also suggests reciting poetry.”

Poetry? Well, after all, it had been a Romantic Period class that had first brought Rae to him. If he remembered correctly, she’d always been partial to Lord Byron. Perhaps—

Popping her head back out the door, Miss Belle whispered conspiratorially, “Not for her, silly, for you. Poetry will help keep your mind off her unmentionables.” With a wink, she disappeared into the house.

If that was the case, he’d better start with the first canto of Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, for it was going to be a very long night.

Chapter Three

Dear Dr. Connagher:

Months have gone by. The fall semester has started. Did you walk into class hoping to see my last-minute registration? Or were you relieved not to see me sitting there in that white mini-skirt you hated so much? Do you miss me barging into your weekly office hours, tongue-tied, naïve, and hoping you’ll shut and lock your door again?

Daddy is doing better every day, but we’ve accepted the fact that he’s never getting out of that wheelchair. When he was electrocuted, the surge of power shorted out parts of his brain.

As well as losing a hand and foot, he’s broken inside, where he can never be fixed.

I’m trying to get over you. I’m lonely, and it’s been so long since I saw you. Since I sat in your class listening to your incredibly sexy voice reading Shelley and Byron. Since I came to your office every week to soak you up like a greedy sponge.

I’m dating someone, Daddy’s assistant. I’ve known him for years. He’s safe, Conn. I need safety right now.

But why do I feel so guilty, as though I’m betraying you? You made me promise to always tell you the truth, no matter how terrible and frightening.

Well, here’s the whole, ugly truth. You shorted me out on your desk that day. I’m in an emotional wheelchair because of you, Conn, and I’m afraid I’m ruined for any kind of relationship ever again. I’m broken, deep inside, where I can never be fixed.

Except possibly by you.

Why am I still writing you? Honestly? Because I have no one else to talk to. What, do you think I could just walk up to Daddy and say, “The last day of school, my English professor bent me over his desk, spanked me, and gave me the best orgasm of my life. And then he gave me an A.”

That’s unfair, I know. You were so terribly careful to make sure my grade was determined by an unbiased third party who had no idea what happened in your office that day.

You never gave me the A.

You gave me a whole different test, didn’t you?

Truth? I’d let you do it again. Sometimes I want you to do it again so badly I can’t breathe, I can’t think, for needing you. And that scares me more than anything.

~ Rae

Stepping out on the back porch, Rae quietly shut the door behind her in case Daddy was sleeping. He loved to spend as much time outside as possible in the summer, soaking in the heat. Soon it’d be too cold for him outside, and he’d be imprisoned in the house, dying a little faster each day.

He turned his head, smiling crookedly, his mouth working hard to say a single word.

“Rae.”

Nobody outside of the family probably would have understood him. Smiling, she hugged him, inwardly crying at his slight body and paper-thin skin. He was so frail, so unlike the Daddy she’d known up until five years ago.

“Hello, Daddy.” She sat in the rocking chair beside him, holding his hand.

They sat quietly for awhile, just staring out over the rolling green hills. Fields crisscrossed the horizon like a patchwork quilt of green, yellow, and brown tilled dirt. The neighbor’s horses neighed, whickering back and forth, and somebody’s dog barked.

“I got a great job offer today.”

He patted her hand, making low questioning noises.

Even though she tried to project enthusiasm, she hadn’t fooled him. Fighting back tears, she tried to decide how much to tell him. Maybe if she’d told him her problems five years ago, she wouldn’t have made so many terrible mistakes.

“Do you remember when I came home from Drury?”

Daddy nodded, his brown eyes locked on her. At one time, that stern gaze had been enough to curb any disobedience she might think to toss back as an unruly teen. Even crippled, shrunken, and mute in a wheelchair, he projected that same authority.

“I—I’d met someone. But I was…scared.” Her voice broke, but she kept up the slow, steady rocking. “He was ten years older than me, my English professor, and he was just about as intimidating as you.”

Daddy laughed, she thought, patting her hand. His brown eyes twinkled.

“I left Drury not sure I’d go back to see him.”

Sudden agitation trembled through him, and she jerked her gaze back to his.

“No, no, Daddy, don’t even think it. I wasn’t sure I’d go back to him even before your accident. I was too much of a coward to face him again. Staying home to help you and Mom was simply my excuse to stay gone. Then Richard—”

Daddy’s face hardened, his eyes narrowing. Concentrating hard, he forced one word out.

“Dick.”

Rae choked back a laugh. “Yeah, he was. I shouldn’t have married him. You tried to tell me, didn’t you? But I was still running from Conn. I was still afraid, and I thought Richard would be safer. I thought I was protecting myself from a man that scared me spitless.”

Dropping her gaze, she whispered, “I ran into Conn today.”

Her free hand trembled in her lap, and she clenched her fingers into a fist to hide it.

Daddy squeezed her other hand, making another low, soothing noise.

“I’m still scared.” She blinked back tears. “He has the power to tear me down to nothing if I let him.” Remembering the ferocity of his steel blue eyes locked on her mouth, she knew he also had the power to rock her world like none other. “You taught me not to be a coward, but I ran from him because I was scared. You taught me not to be a quitter, but I divorced Richard.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’ve messed up everything, Daddy. This job opportunity is a dream come true, a miracle, but it puts me in contact with Conn. It puts me under his thumb, since it’s working for his grandmother. I’ll have to see him, deal with him, answer his questions about why I left, and I’m still a coward.”

Daddy made a sharp noise, leaning toward her, tugging on her hand until she looked into his eyes. Again, it took concentration for his shorted-out brain to form words that she could understand. “Fix. It.”

Tears streamed down her cheeks. His motto as a general contractor had inspired hers.

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it; if it is broke, fix it right the first time.

“How? How do I fix five years? I ran, and then I married someone else. Conn has no idea.” She choked and closed her eyes. There are some things she just couldn’t bear to tell anyone. Things that he would want—demand—from her, and she’d give, helplessly. The memory of their last day together in his office stung and heated at the same time.

“Make. Right.”

Yeah, easier said than done. This was her chance to make it right with Conn after destroying everything five years ago. Nodding, she brushed her tears away. “You’re right, Daddy, as always.”

She rocked in silence for awhile. Glancing over at him, she noticed he was drifting into sleep. Quietly, she stopped her chair and rose to gently set his hand on his stomach. He looked so small and frail. She didn’t need the doctors to tell her he was slowly slipping away. “I love you, Daddy.”

He stirred, a soft smile on his face. One eye peeked open. “Love Conn?”

Crafty as a fox, as usual. Despite her anxiety about dealing with Conn, she laughed shakily and nodded. “Too much, I think. Even now.”

“Go.”

Swallowing hard, Rae leaned down and kissed his cheek. “I’m going. I’ll call Mom every day to see how you are.”

“Fine.” Frustration flickered across his face. He wanted to tell her to live her life, leave him be. Once the strongest man she’d ever known, he hated to be so dependent on others.

“I know, Daddy, I know. The Fix-It Lady is on the job now.”

God help her.

Packing took her back five years ago to when she’d stared at the piles on her bed and cried, trying to decide whether to return to Conn or not. Ultimately, she’d decided not to return to campus.

Now, the piles of clothes were different. No flirty mini-skirts and low-cut, tight shirts, fashionable girly clothes. She’d outgrown such silly outfits a long time ago. Truth be told, she’d never cared much for them, but when one was at college, one dressed the part. Or so she’d thought.

She had a tall stack of jeans and tee shirts, a few long-sleeved denim and flannel shirts, a pile of plain everyday underwear and socks, all sensible working clothes.

Yet not suitable for a fix-it mission with the sexiest man she’d ever known.

Her closet wasn’t much better, containing only several boring church dresses and a few blouses and skirts that looked like they belonged in her mother’s closet. She hated to shop, and it showed.

Gritting her teeth, she selected a few of her nicest church dresses and tossed them on the bed. If the last five years had taught her anything at all, it was that she couldn’t pretend to be anything but herself and expect to pull it off for long. She might be able to fool herself a month or two, but the truth would shine through eventually.

If the dresses were nice enough for church, they’d be nice enough for Miss Belle’s dinners. Even though her feminine side longed for some kind of slinky black evening dress to bring Conn panting to her side.

In the far back of her closet, she found a section of clothing she’d forgotten. In the months after returning home from college when she’d still had Conn on her mind and Richard hadn’t stepped into the picture yet, she’d bought several outfits. One was a long burgundy velveteen skirt, loose, flowing, and stitched with ribbons like a crazy quilt in loops, daisies, and chains. Matched with a frilly, gauzy white blouse, she’d felt like a grown up lady and not an awkward college kid. Richard had hated the outfit, and so she’d stuck it in the back, never to see the light of day again.

Rae tossed the velveteen skirt on her bed and stuffed the staid church dresses back in the closet. To find a pair of dress shoes, she had to get down on her hands and knees and crawl clear to the back of the closet where she found black patent leather flats. And then she dragged out something else.

What a dark memory for such a small piece of clothing.

The simple white cotton mini-skirt in her hand brought that last day of college roaring back. She’d worn it the very last time she’d gone to Dr. Connagher’s office. She’d known he hated the skirt and wore it anyway just to bait him. She might as well have grabbed a tiger by the tail. No wonder she’d tossed it on the floor in the utter depths of her closet.

She sat on her bed, staring at the skirt in her hand and the useless clothes left in the closet, each a piece of her life, a testament to the storm of changes she’d endured the past five years. She could see the ravages of time and heartache and maturity in those clothes. Leaving the college girl behind; marrying the wrong man; changing herself to try and make him the right man.

Aching for the first man she’d loved—and lost—so much that she wanted to die.

Wiping her cheeks, she got up and packed her suitcase. Of course, she grabbed the poetry books she’d kept all these years from Conn’s class and her beat-up college laptop with the journal of letter after letter to him over the last five years that she’d never mailed.

If only she could write the turmoil of hope and terror, dread and need, pain and desire out of her system. Then maybe she wouldn’t crumple into a needy mess as soon as he touched her.

To remind herself of those days, she tossed the white mini-skirt in her suitcase. Then she hugged Daddy and Mom, climbed into her truck, and drove to Beulah Land.

Wondering all the way what he’d taste like when he kissed her.

Chapter Four

Dear Dr. Connagher:

I’m getting married tomorrow. Everyone keeps asking me if I’m excited, and I try to be. I care for Richard. I do.

But he’s not you. And I can’t have you, can I? I lost you a year ago. A year without any phone call or e-mail from you. I’m not that hard to find. But then again, neither are you, Professor. I saw on the Drury website that you’ve been tenured and were voted most popular teacher in the entire Arts Department. That doesn’t surprise me at all.

Lord knows I loved you.

So you might wonder why I told this man yes and not you. Quite honestly, he doesn’t scare me like you did. You looked at me without saying a word and I felt the weight of your will pressing on me. I felt a surge of desperate need to do exactly what you wanted, just to see you smile. Walk across broken glass? Sure. Give up everything I am? Okay. Just touch me, hold me, call me darlin’ in that smooth Texas drawl, and I’m yours, heart and soul.

Richard doesn’t have that kind of will. He’s safe in a way you never would be.

It’s hard to tell since Daddy doesn’t talk real well, but I get the impression that he’s not too thrilled about my choice. Odd, considering Richard’s been his assistant for years. I thought he’d approve, but he looks at me and I can hear him repeating his favorite sayings and shaking his head.

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it; if it is broke, fix it right the first time.

That first time would be you, Conn. The first time I loved somebody so much I wanted to die. How can I fix that? How can I make it right between us? I can’t. You crossed a line I didn’t even know existed, and I went, simply because you asked. There’s broke, and there’s broken.

You and me, well, we ain’t so easy to fix, are we.

But here’s a little secret just for you, Conn. I’m afraid maybe someday I’ll hate Richard because he’s not you. I think I’ll hate every man who’s not you.

~ Rae

Smoothing her burgundy skirt one last time, Rae stepped into the formal dining room, and froze as Conn slowly rose from the table, his gaze locked on her.

He was here.

When she’d returned to Beulah Land, she’d been relieved that his car was gone. She’d hoped to have some time to stabilize herself before seeing him again. Now, all those thoughts and preparations flew out of her head. Her tongue plastered to the roof of her mouth, her heart squeezing at the brilliance of his eyes, now sapphire thanks to the deep blue dress shirt.

Dressed in a navy suit and tie, he came around the table. Shock punched her in the stomach like a fist. As his student five years ago, she’d never seen him dressed up. His professor garb had always been casual: jeans, long-sleeved shirts rolled up, no tie, boots.

Oh my.

If he’d come to class looking like this, she’d never have made it all the way to his final without antagonizing him out of his careful professor role. Every instinct urged flight—or full frontal attack—but she stood her ground. She’d given her word not to run again.

His mouth quirked slightly, as though he knew the battle she fought not to turn around and leave as quickly as possible. Could he tell she was just as tempted to launch herself into his arms?

Taking her clenched hand, he bent, holding her gaze, and brushed his mouth against her knuckles. “‘ Ah! Mayst thou ever be what now thou art,/ Nor unbeseem the promise of thy spring.’ Welcome to Beulah Land, Rae.”

Every muscle in her body seized, locked down, shaking with need. Feeling his mouth on her skin, she suddenly remembered how close he’d come to kissing her earlier. Damn it, now she couldn’t stop staring at his lips.

“Come sit down, dear,” Miss Belle said from the head of the table. “I’m so pleased to have you here.”

Knees shaking, Rae let him lead her to her chair and sat down. Conn returned to his seat across from her with her hot, hungry gaze gobbling him up.

Which was very embarrassing, especially when Rae caught the knowing look on the old lady’s face. She practically beamed. “Is your room satisfactory?”

“The room is lovely, thank you. Dinner smells delicious. Did you cook it, Miss Belle?”

Conn choked back laughter. “Whatever you do, Rae, never, under threat of death, should you taste Miss Belle’s cooking.”

His grandmother snapped her napkin open with a huff and spread it on her lap. “I haven’t killed anybody yet.”

“What about the time you mixed up the salt and sugar in the cookies?”

“Balderdash,” she sniffed. “That’s a very common accident. You certainly didn’t die.”

“Okay,” Conn drawled, winking at Rae. “How about when you scorched the corn meal mush and made me eat it anyway?”

“You didn’t die then, either.”

“But you certainly didn’t eat it once you took a bite, did you? Oh, and the best was when you gave our entire family food poisoning at Thanksgiving. Talk about a killer turkey.”

Miss Belle humphed loudly. “Samantha, we’re ready for service!”

“Yes, ma’am!” a woman called from the kitchen. “I’ll be right out.”

The door swung open and a woman rushed over to set a tray of freshly baked bread and a pitcher of tea on the table beside Miss Belle. Studying the cook, Rae was surprised. She had a preconceived notion of an Aunt Bea bustling around the kitchen, not this warm, attractive woman just a few years older than her.

“Samantha, this is my new property manager, Rae Lynn. She’ll be with us for every meal from now on.”

A flush of pride blazed across Rae’s cheeks and she wanted to grin like an idiot. Property manager had a very nice ring to it. “Pleased to meet you, Samantha. Everything smells incredible.”

Smiling, Samantha headed back for the kitchen. “Why, thank you, Rae Lynn. I hope you love good southern cooking. Tonight’s fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy.”

Taking a drink of his tea, Conn sighed happily. “And lots of sweet tea.”

Rae smiled at the bliss on his face. Catching her silent laughter, he arched a brow at her and shrugged good-naturedly.

Miss Belle leaned over to loudly whisper, “Conn has the biggest sweet tooth this side of Texas.”

Slowly raising his glass to his mouth, he gave Rae that smoldering sexy look that should be illegal. “The sweeter the better.”

Yanking her gaze away, she stared at the stack of homemade bread and her mouth watered. Warm, yeasty wheat filled the air, making her stomach growl so loudly Rae blushed.

“Conn, will you say grace, please?”

Miss Belle took Rae’s left hand and his right. He slid his hand across the table toward her, palm up. Pulse slamming in her throat, she met him halfway. His fingers curled around hers, his palm big and strong, swallowing her hand. Exactly how she always felt with him.

Swallowed. Overwhelmed.

“Dear Lord, thank you for this food we are about to receive. Bless every single person in this house.” His fingers tightened on her hand. “Thank you for protecting Rae all these years and bringing her safely to us. Amen.”

Her eyes burned. Had he been praying for her? Thinking of her? She met his solemn gaze, still holding his hand. Clenching her mouth shut, she fought not to blurt out everything that had happened, the apologies and excuses and entreaties jumping around in her mind. She longed to tell him every truth she’d learned about herself and the many mistakes she’d made.

Or would that only drive him away?

“Try this, Rae Lynn.” Miss Belle offered a slice of bread slathered with pale, creamy butter. “Samantha’s rustic country bread and fresh-churned butter from our local dairy.”

Slipping her hand from his reluctantly, Rae took a bite and her eyes closed in bliss.

Conn chuckled. “Wait until you taste Samantha’s hot-out-of-the-oven blueberry muffins for breakfast. Or her blackberry cobbler.”

“Does she live here, too?”

“Oh, no,” Miss Belle replied. “She has two children and a rather obnoxious husband.

They live in town. Right now, she’s just working part time, trying out new recipes and such until we settle on the right menu. I’m afraid we might have issues with her husband the closer we get to the grand opening.” Leaning toward Rae and keeping a careful eye on the door, she whispered, “He’s a bit abusive, I think, but she never says anything. He’s also very controlling and doesn’t like letting her work out of the house.”

A flash of rage made Rae tighten her fingers, crushing the soft dough. She knew that sort of man all too well. Deliberately, she concentrated on her slice of bread, refusing to meet Conn’s gaze. Would he be as big a jerk? Controlling every move? Demanding to know everywhere his little woman went?

“I like control, Rae.”

His words from five years ago mocked her. She was a fool to think she could ever adjust to his sort of demands.

“Do you want me to speak to him?” Conn asked. Rae wanted to roll her eyes. Yeah, one control freak to another, he’d probably congratulate him. “Samantha deserves a chance to start her own career. I simply can’t believe her husband would knowingly force her to give up her dreams.”

“Lots of husbands would disagree with you.” She regretted the words as soon as they came out of her mouth. Flickering her gaze up, she winced at the intensity of his piercing eyes.

“Do you speak from personal experience?”

Perhaps it would be best to get his reaction to her marriage and subsequent divorce with witnesses where he wouldn’t be able to put his hands on her. “My very ex-husband was the same kind of jerk.”

Conn’s eyes narrowed, grooves deepening between his eyes and around his mouth.

“How long were you married?”

“Nearly three years.” The incredible bread turned to sawdust in her mouth and she nearly choked. “He was the second biggest mistake I ever made.”

His harsh bark of laughter made her flinch. “And I was your first, right?”

“No,” she whispered, fighting not to cry. She stared down at the table, memorizing the swirls in the lacy cloth. “My worst mistake was leaving you.”

Oh, God, she couldn’t believe she’d said it. Not so openly to him, in front of his grandmother. He’d always had that effect on her, though. She’d blurt out answers in class, too, any answer at all, because she couldn’t bear to let him down.

The silence was unbearable. She wanted to squirm. She wanted to jump up and flee the room. She didn’t dare look up at his or his grandmother’s reaction. Her heart thudded painfully, her stomach clenching uneasily on the bread. She reached out for her glass and her fingers trembled so badly she sloshed tea on the pristine tablecloth.

She’d never seen him angry. Would he yell and rage, punch the wall, call her names, all things her ex-husband had done and worse? Or would Conn punish her with silence? She’d never had much of a will when it came to him.

His chair scooted out from the table, the squeak of wood against wood loud in the silence. “Miss Belle, if you’ll excuse us for a few minutes, Rae and I need to have a quick private discussion.”

Married.

His Rae had married someone else. Another man had held her, touched her, made love to her for three fucking years and yeah, jealousy blinded him in a thick haze of red.

But the fear shimmering in her eyes pissed him the hell off.

What kind of man did she think he was? For five years, he’d been beating himself up for scaring her, afraid maybe he’d done serious damage to her psyche, and the whole time, she’d been with another man. He’d never once contemplated laying a hand on her in anger. Never.

He’d sooner take down the claymore displayed on the wall above his sofa and gut himself before he’d ever abuse her.

If she seriously thought he could ever hurt her like that, then he didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of regaining her trust.

Like a rabbit frozen by headlights, she watched him come around the table at her. He damned near ground his teeth to dust, but he moved slowly and didn’t say a word as he pulled her chair away from the table.

He wanted to yank her into his arms and hold her to his heart and swear with his last dying breath that he’d never ever hurt her again. And then he’d kiss her until she knew it, until she believed it in her heart and could trust him without a single doubt.

He despised that fear in her eyes. Fear he’d put there himself. He deserved whatever punishment she meted out and if he had to crawl on his belly over broken glass for years before she ever let him touch her, then by God, that’s what he’d do.

For now, he simply held the door to the back porch open for her and silently indicated the dirt path leading down to the gazebo.

Early autumn scents of fresh mown hay and leaves filled his nose. The evening air was crisp but not so chilly that she’d need a coat. He could always give her his suit jacket. Bitterly, he jammed his hand through his hair and paced the circular floorboards. Gallant gestures would never be enough to bridge her fear.

It was too late. Perhaps it’d always been too late.

Sitting on the bench and staring down at her small hands clenched in her lap, she looked achingly young, as innocent and fresh as the first day he’d seen her in his classroom. That prim, frilly white blouse should have made her look like an old maid, but instead enhanced her delectable body. They’d lost so many years because of one lousy mistake.

He must have made some small sound, a breath of remorse, for her gaze slowly rose to his. His heart lurched. Colonel Healy’s ghost could have materialized right beside her in full dress uniform jingling with all his service medals, and Conn wouldn’t have noticed. He was too busy losing himself in her eyes.

Deep and soulful, her eyes had been the first thing he’d noticed when the shy, unknown student raised her hand during roll call in his class five years ago. His Romantic Period class was senior-level English, so he’d expected to know every single one of his students. Gleefully, he’d prepared to strike terror into the heart of this new student with his rigid classroom structure and demanding syllabus.

Instead, she’d struck him deaf and mute, then, too, drowning him with her eyes and the clear, sweet, pure glimpse of her heart. Nobody had eyes like hers. All the clichéd phrases of verse over the centuries dedicated to a woman’s eyes were proven in her gaze. Starry climes were just the beginning of what he’d sensed that day.

Here was a woman who’d never be able to lie to him, to anyone, because her eyes would betray her. He saw her shyness, the undeniable attraction she felt toward him, and the subtle siren call of a natural, thoroughly untrained submissive. From that first moment, he’d wanted to make her his. He’d wanted to be the one to show her how he’d treasure and love her with his control.

And then he’d stupidly ruined it all by losing that control he’d been so proud of.

What he saw in her eyes now shook him to the core. Fear and even longing he expected, but not guilt. Not from her. She was innocent in this whole mess. Anger dissolving, he quoted softly, “‘ Oh! Let that eye, which, wild as the gazelle’s,/ Now brightly bold or beautifully shy,/

Wins as it wanders, dazzles where it dwells.’”

“Sounds like Byron,” she whispered hesitantly.

“Very good, Miss Jackson.” He sighed heavily. He had no idea what her married name was. Married. The thought still made him sick at heart. Mine, she could have been mine. Should have been mine. “I’m sorry. What’s your new name?”

She twitched with surprise, which almost made him smile. She hadn’t expected him to apologize. “After the divorce, I went back to Jackson.”

He gave a small nod. “I’m sorry for my reaction. I had a ridiculous preconceived notion that you’d been pining for me all this time, pure and aloof, and certainly not married to someone else.”

Her chin inched up and her eyes flashed, spirited but still heavily laced with guilt, which hadn’t been his intention. “We never had any commitments. I never—”

“You’re absolutely right,” he broke in gently. “We didn’t have a formal agreement. It just takes some adjustment in my mind to reconcile you with another man. What was he like?”

She shifted uneasily, her gaze dropping back to her hands. He waited, not pushing, but letting the weight of his silence drive her to give him the answers he needed. Had that one moment in his office shaken her so utterly that she couldn’t trust any man at all?

“We obviously didn’t get along very well because we divorced,” she finally answered. “I shouldn’t have married him. I don’t want to talk about him. Not with you.”

Ah, but that’s exactly what he needed the most, because something wasn’t adding up in his head. Her fear caused by his initial anger worried him. He’d seen only desire and shyness in her eyes tonight, before he’d found out she’d been married. Dread tightened his throat, but he fought for calmness in his voice. “Did you fight often?”

“At the end. He…didn’t treat me very well.” She forced a laugh, shrugging, and it broke his heart. He didn’t even know who the bastard was, but he’d break him with his bare hands if he ever ran into him. So many hurts and sorrows darkened her eyes that she tried to hide.

“Daddy tried to tell me it was a mistake to marry him. He was right. I knew it was a mistake the day I married him, but…”

Slowly, he sat down on the bench, not too closely. She didn’t flinch away, which he took as a good sign. He stretched his arm out on the railing and traced the whorls in the wood with his fingers, when what he really wanted to do was feel the softness of her skin in the moonlight.

“I’d lost you, and I was so lonely.” Her voice was fragile, so low and soft he strained to hear. “By then, I figured you weren’t ever riding up on your white horse and it was too late for me to call you. I thought it’d help if I moved on with my life. I was wrong.”

Her voice broke and he had to touch her. Gently, he grazed his fingers across her shoulder. Shuddering, she moved, not further away but closer, enough that he could smell the sweet vanilla scent of her hair.

“Rae, darlin’, it was never too late.”

She shook her head, her shoulders straining, but she eased closer. If he moved an inch, he’d be able to drape his arm across her back and hold her, but was that what she wanted? He dared not move too quickly.

Anguished, he asked the questions tearing him up inside. “Did you really miss me? Did you need me? Did you think of me at all?”

Long moments passed, his heartbeat loud in his head. Barely breathing, he waited for her answer.

“Always.” Turning in a rush, she buried her face against his chest. “Oh, Conn, I missed you so much I wanted to die.”

Chapter Five

Conn smelled as good as she remembered, only she’d never been wrapped in his arms like this. Careful and polite, he’d barely touched her that semester long ago until that very last day. She’d taken his final, turned her blue book in, and met him at his office, giddy, silly, and totally unprepared for the real Conn to peek out from behind his civilized professor veneer.

Of course, it was the dangerous, sexy, demanding man who’d pinned her on top of his desk for a slow, seductive spanking that she’d dreamed about all these years. She didn’t realize she was crying until he stroked his fingers across her cheeks to brush the tears away.

“Shhh, darlin’, don’t cry. Not a day went by that I didn’t miss you, wondering where you were, what you were doing, if you were alright. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Me, forgive you?” Confused, Rae lifted her head enough to see his face. So somber and reserved, his brow heavily grooved. “I’m the one who ran away.”

His eyes widened, one corner of his mouth quirking with startled amusement. “Did you forget what happened in my office?”

“I didn’t forget.” She swallowed hard. She’d never been able to forget, no matter how hard she’d tried. A hot wave flooded down her face and neck. Embarrassment, yes, but more.

He’d revealed something in herself no one had ever seen before. She’d buried it, denied it, married someone else to try and wipe away his memory, but she’d never forget the way Conn had made her feel. “Are you sorry you did it?”

“I regret many things about that day. I should have made sure you understood what was happening. We should have talked and talked and talked some more before I ever attempted such a thing, so you didn’t feel pressured, unsure, or God forbid, afraid. I should have made sure you felt safe in every way and understood exactly how to tell me to stop. I’m sorry you were scared enough to run, but…”

His voice lowered, his fingers tightening on her chin. His eyes locked on her, daring her to pull away or deny the truth. “You enjoyed it. You found pleasure in what I did.”

She tried to answer, cleared her throat, and finally admitted the truth in a choked whisper.

“Yes.”

Slowly, he gave her a smile that curled her toes and wrapped a fist of molten steel around her heart. He stroked his fingers down her cheek, sending goose bumps racing down her arms.

“I wanted to be the one to teach you, which is why I made that mistake of rushing you. You were just so innocent and sweet, I couldn’t resist. You would have let me do anything.”

She squeezed her legs together, trying to quell the memory of his fingers sliding over her skin. Five years, and her body remembered every single moment. “I had no defenses against you.”

“You never came back to college.” His voice cracked, tight and grim. Although his hands remained gentle, his body tensed against hers. “I was your professor, and I scared you away.

You didn’t finish your degree, did you? My greatest fear, my shame all these years.”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t your fault, honestly. Daddy was in a very bad accident the day I was supposed to come back to campus. He was electrocuted on a jobsite and nearly died. He lost a hand, a foot, and he’s unable to talk properly. With all his medical bills and physical therapy, I couldn’t come back to college, even if I’d wanted to.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your daddy.” Some of the tension singing in Conn’s body eased. His hand continued to slowly move up and down her face, wandering lower to her jaws and neck. “If you’d wanted to. So you didn’t plan to come back even before the accident?”

“I—”

“Truth, Rae. I still hold you to that promise.”

Her fingers wrapped tightly together in her lap. “I can’t lie anyway.”

“Everybody lies, darlin’, even if only to themselves, but your eyes always tell me the truth. I just want you to admit it out loud. Were you coming back to me before your daddy’s accident?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t have my car ready yet, I hadn’t packed up everything. I was…

scared.”

“Of me?”

She nodded. “And of myself.”

“So my first order of business is ensuring you’re not scared of me this time around, because I promise you, darlin’, it’s gonna be damned difficult letting you out of my sight again.”

Despite his arms around her and some of their troubled past honestly discussed between them, she still tensed. She couldn’t help it. With too many demands, restrictions, and controls, he’d stifle her. She’d lose everything she’d gained the past year without her ex-husband all over again.

“Shhh,” he whispered, smoothing his whole palm against her throat. “Not that way. Not until you’re ready.”

“I don’t want to be ready. Not if you’re going to control everything I do. Not if I’m going to change to try and make you happy. I can’t go back to that.”

“Is that how your dickhead of an ex-husband made you feel?”

Laughter spluttered out of her throat before she could stop it. “Sorry, his name was Richard, and Daddy always called him—”

“Dick.” Conn nodded, his fingers massaging her shoulder, his breath fanning her face.

He wasn’t threatening or loud, but tension still hummed in him. “Is that how he made you feel?”

Richard had made her feel like dog crap just about every single day. Remember how that felt, she told herself, firming her resolve. Never again will I let someone treat me like garbage.

Not even Conn. “He was into control too.”

Conn made a low humming murmur, soothing and arousing at the same time, his fingers still dancing lightly on her neck. “I don’t control that way, Rae. Another misunderstanding of youth and innocence between us.”

“I’m not innocent,” she retorted, jerking her gaze up to his. Trouble. Mistake. He was close enough to kiss, and every muscle in her body sobbed for his mouth. “What do you want, then?”

He leaned closer, his eyes heavy lidded, his mouth tempting and soft. Surely that was the biggest misunderstanding of all, for a man like him would take whatever he wanted, especially a kiss. “You really have no idea what I want, darlin’. That makes you innocent. When I spanked you, which scared you more? That you let me do it, or that you enjoyed it?”

“Both.” She shuddered, drowning in the magic of his hands and his smooth, low voice.

God help her, but what else would she let Conn do? Could she refuse him anything? “What was the question you wanted me to answer today?”

“Whether you still wanted me or not.”

Oh. Heat curled inside her. “And do I?”

He chuckled and drew her tighter against his body. “Oh, yeah. As much as I want you.

Did you think about it today, Rae?”

She knew very well what he meant. “Think about how good I’ll taste. ”

“Because if I was a controlling, abusive jerk like Dick, then I would have kissed you already and selfishly found out another answer for myself. I would have taken my kiss in your truck. Hell, I would have taken it when I had you trapped beneath me after I dragged you out from under the porch.”

She shuddered, remembering his weight on top of her, her hands pinned, her body controlled by his. “What answer?”

“How sweet are you going to taste?” he whispered, his hand still slow and gentle on her throat. “Are you going to moan into my mouth and slide your tongue deep? Or are you going to open up and suck me into your mouth?”

She wanted a kiss, she did, oh, she did. But how far would he take her? Caught in the burning intensity of his gaze, she felt like a twig tossed and drowned in a raging flooding river.

He didn’t move. If she wanted a kiss, she was going to have to take it herself. “Can I—”

“Anything you want.”

How long had she dreamed of his face, all rugged chasms and angled cheekbones? She traced her fingers over the planes of his face like a blind woman. Lightly, she feathered over his mouth, lips full and soft, hot velvet nibbling gently against her fingers. Scrambling onto her knees on the bench, she turned and cupped his face in both hands, stoking her thumbs on either side of his lips.

His hands left her, one hand gripping the wooden railing, the other fisted on his thigh.

Unsure and a little afraid, she hesitated. Didn’t he trust himself? Was he afraid of what he’d do if he was touching her while she kissed him?

The wood creaked beneath his hand and his entire body flexed against her. There was such power in his big body.

“Daddy always told me that I’d know the woman I was meant to love by how hard I had to work to control myself when I was with her. You, darlin’, wreck my control with a glance, yet the light in your eyes ties me up in a fragile feather-soft bond I’m unable to break. I don’t want to break it. I want you more than ever, and I’m going to prove to you every moment of every day that you can trust me.”

She stared at him, struggling to sort through the emotions raging within her. “Did you just say that you—that you—”

“I loved you then, Rae, and I love you more now. Do your worst to me, darlin’. I can take it.”

Her heart thundered, frantic, loud and desperate. They’d lost so many years. Regret clogged her throat. She leaned closer, brushing her lips across his.

“I always loved you.” Her voice broke, tears sliding down her cheeks. “I’m sorry that I was a damned coward.”

“Shhh, Rae, it’s alright. It was my mistake, my fault. I should have—”

She pressed her mouth to his. Immediately, he opened his lips on a low purring rumble of satisfaction. Closer, she had to be closer. Straddling him on her knees, she slid her hand behind his head to comb her fingers through his dark hair. Inhaling him, she pushed her tongue into his mouth as he’d taunted to learn his taste.

Sweet tea, homemade bread, and deeper, just heat and sultry seduction.

And yes, she moaned into his mouth and she sucked his tongue deep, nibbled on his bottom lip, and tried to tell him how much she’d missed him.

Breathing hard and still crying, she kissed his cheeks, his nose, both eyes. “I never stopped wanting you.”

His hands came up to her back, his palms hot through the thin material of her blouse.

“You’ve been on my mind and heart ever since you left.”

She looked into the endless depths of his eyes and started to drown again beneath his intensity. He must have seen the unease growing in her eyes, because he drew her down and simply held her against his chest. His heart beat strong and rapid against her ear, sending a sharp thrust of need straight to her core. He wanted her, this fantastic, wickedly sexy man loved her after all this time, even though she’d left him.

“What now?”

“Keep your two promises to me, no matter what. Tell me the truth, and don’t run. I’m bound to scare you again. Hell, I’m scared, too. I’m afraid I’ll screw up again and drive you away. When I start to scare you, we’ll cool it, back off awhile. Alright? But you’ve got to tell me.”

She nodded without raising her head, more than happy to feel his arms around her, his strength cradling her and calming her fears.

“I’m warning you, darlin’. It’s been five years and I want you even more now than I did that day in my office. I’ve had all this time to fantasize about the many ways I ache to make love to you. We’ve always been in danger of spontaneous combustion.”

He smelled incredible, all woodsy musk, leather, and man. Such a man. She could lose everything to him, her heart, her pride, her soul. Even knowing the risk, she couldn’t make herself run again. “Just don’t hurt me.”

Easing her off his lap to stand before him, Conn stared into her eyes, his brow creased. “I didn’t hurt you that day in my office. Did I? I mean, really hurt you?”

“No.” She swallowed, fighting the urge to drop her gaze. “But the potential was there. I thought you might hurt me, and I wouldn’t even care. Until later.”

“Trust me, Rae. I’m going to work every single day to prove to you that you can put yourself in my hands, in my life, and never regret it. I will not hurt you.”

“Not even if I want you to?”

No shocked horror or recrimination filled his fathomless eyes. “Do you?”

His voice had lowered, a hint of rumbling growl creeping in to curl her toes and send shivers down her spine. “I don’t know. I never let anyone spank me before, either.”

“Fair enough. Do you want me to spank you again?”

Heat flared across her cheeks, down her neck and chest to pool lower. She was suddenly very aware of his hands on her hips, the strength in his arms and body. Her pulse fluttered, her heart kicking into high gear. “If you want to.”

“That wasn’t the question, Rae. Do you want me to spank you again?”

“I—I—” Her breathing quickened until panicky little sounds escaped her mouth, but her inner muscles tightened, too, aching with longing. Her breasts felt tight and hot, her nipples painfully stiff against the lace of her bra. While he did nothing but look at her with that heavy darkness spreading in his eyes. “I don’t know.”

Those lazy, smoldering eyes, his mouth slightly curved with a secretive smile—she wanted to crawl right back into his lap and kiss him again. “If I put my hand beneath your skirt and slipped my fingers beneath your panties, what would I find?”

Trembling, trapped by the weight of his gaze alone, she squeezed her fingers tighter on his shoulders. Holding him close, or preventing herself from fleeing? She wasn’t sure.

Intense and concentrated on her, his strength of character dragged the truth from her lips no matter how embarrassing. “Wet.”

“There’s the answer I was looking for.” Standing, he took her hand. “Let’s go finish our dinner before Miss Belle sends out a search party.”

Calming her breathing, she struggled to bring her raging hormones under control. “That’s all?”

Smiling that wicked knowing grin, he winked and drew her closer. “For now.”

Braced for him to pressure her into spending her first night at Beulah Land in his bed—

and the ensuing battle she’d have to wage with herself to refuse—her mind floundered.

Everything she’d feared all these years, his demands, his controlling nature, her weakness when it came to him, suddenly seemed ridiculous.

They climbed the porch stairs in silence, but at the back door, she halted. In the shadows, she couldn’t see his face. “What are we going to tell Miss Belle?”

“You don’t have to tell me a thing, Rae Lynn,” Miss Belle’s voice echoed in the night from the upstairs balcony. “I say you’ll hold out at least two weeks.”

Did she have a straight shot down to the gazebo? Where Rae had just crawled all over her grandson? Cringing, she tried to decide whether to burst into hysterical laughter or smack Conn for dragging her outside in the first place. Why had she signed that damned contract to work for the crazy old lady?

“Colonel Healy says his grandson will have you in his bed within the week.”

Laughing so hard he sagged against the wall, Conn wrapped his arms around Rae before she punched him. “Colonel Healy’s been dead for years now, Grandma.”

“I know that, Verrill Connagher, and don’t you dare call me Grandma. The bet’s on.”

Sipping on a cup of coffee, Rae stole another glance at him. Conn cleaned up his second slice of homemade apple pie as if nothing had happened outside. As if she hadn’t reluctantly admitted a spanking wasn’t out of the realm of possibility and his grandmother hadn’t made a bet with her dead husband about how fast their grandson would get Rae into his bed.

Her heart thudded so loudly, it took her a minute to realize there really was someone pounding on the front door.

“How rude!” Miss Belle threw her napkin down and stood. “There’s a doorbell right there. Oh.”

“What?” Conn asked.

“It’s Mr. Franklin, Samantha’s husband.”

“How do you know?” Rae listened, trying to hear any voices, but whoever it was just pounded on the door again.

“Go let him in and chat him up while I get Samantha. Try to keep him calm.”

They headed for the front door, Rae very much aware of the rising tension. The whole house seemed to shake with emotion. The door rattled in its frame, the heavy hundred-year-old wood creaking.

Conn gave her a casual, comforting smile and opened the door. “Bill, how—”

A big, beefy man, a head taller and at least a hundred pounds heavier, Bill Franklin bellowed and charged inside, dragging alcohol fumes with him. “Where is she?”

“Samantha’s finishing up in the kitchen.” Keeping his voice mild, Conn put his arm around Rae and kept his body between hers and the intruder’s. Gratitude flooded her, turning her heart all warm and gooey, until she thought about the nice cook having to go home with such a jerk. “I apologize if she’s running late.”

“What are you doing here?” Then he noted Conn’s arm around her, his protectiveness, and some of the man’s belligerence faded. Typical man, showing up all blustering and crazy because a strange male was sniffing around his little woman. He’d come for a pissing contest, to defend his territory.

Richard had treated her like that a few times. Not because he loved her, or feared for her safety, but because he couldn’t bear for her to have anything else in her life but him. She felt like kicking this jerk in the balls. Why did Samantha put up with it? She didn’t look like a meek, weak woman at all.

Why did I put up with Dick so long? a sly, insidious voice whispered.

“My grandmother invited me for dinner,” Conn replied in the same smooth voice, but his body was rock hard against her and ready for battle. “I came to see Miss Jackson.”

The other man’s attitude went down another notch and he actually smiled like a good ole boy just stopping by for a drink. He ran his gaze down Rae’s figure appreciatively and opened his mouth to make some schoolboy comment, but the look on Conn’s face must have shut him up.

“Bill!” Samantha rushed into the room, her blue eyes snapping. “How dare you come in here and cause problems? I told you I’d be home a little late tonight.”

He spread his big, rough hands, shrugging and trying to look sheepish. “I was afraid you were stuck alongside the road somewhere with car problems.”

Rae rolled her eyes. Sure he did. That’s why he was here trying to beat the door down.

“Where are the kids? Who’s watching them and getting their dinner?”

“They’re still playing at the neighbor’s.”

“It’s nearly eight. They’re probably starving. What have you been doing?” Samantha took a big sniff of him and her face locked down. “Never mind.” She turned to Miss Belle.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Belle.”

The grand old lady kissed her cheek and patted her hands. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Samantha. We’ll see you Friday morning, all right, dear? You go home and take care of those precious children.”

The couple left, leaving a bitter, sour taste in Rae’s mouth, too. What if she’d had children with Richard—would she have stayed instead of divorcing him? Trapped by her own family, her own kids, in a prison of her own making…her stomach hurt. Thank God she’d escaped before it was too late.

Miss Belle frowned at the door, worried for her cook’s wellbeing. “Well, that was exciting.”

“Why does she stay with him?” Rae asked. “I know it’s none of my business and I don’t know her at all, but he seems…”

The older woman sighed heavily and shook her head. “Children are involved, and they’ve been married nearly ten years. They work out their problems as best as they can. You and I can sit here and look at him and think he’s a worthless brute, but Samantha’s the one who has to live with him. At one time, she loved him. Once love dies, it’s hard to move on.”

Once love dies. The thought rolled around in the pit of Rae’s stomach like a cold ball of lead. Did she love Conn, really, really love him? She was afraid she did. He’d already said he loved her too. And once loved died… Would she be trapped in a controlling, abusive relationship again? She pressed her hand to her stomach, vaguely ill at the thought.

“‘ When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past,’” Conn quoted softly. “‘ For years fleet away with the wings of the dove,/ The dearest remembrance will still be the last,/

Our sweetest memorial, the first kiss of love.’”

First kiss of love. Her heart skipped, heat flooding her at the memory. Whatever happened between them, she’d never forget that kiss. She’d never forget him. He was worth the risk.

“I’m so glad you’re close, Conn,” Miss Belle said, fondly patting her grandson’s cheek.

“How close?” Rae squeaked. He didn’t live here; he’d said so. Because if he was here, in this house… She wouldn’t make it a week.

“I live in the guesthouse on the edge of the property.”

She wracked her brain, trying to remember a guesthouse. How much land did Miss Belle have here? Was he a mile away, less? The thought both thrilled and scared her to death.

“If you drive past the house instead of turning in here, the road curves along the outer edge of our property and ends up at my cottage. It’s more secluded and very private.” He leaned down, breathing into her ear. “If you cut across the property, you can be in my bed in five minutes.”

“Now, now, don’t you threaten my property manager!” Miss Belle laughed, pushing him toward the door. He held on to Rae, drawing her with him. “Why don’t you go on home now and memorize some more Lord Byron. We’ve had enough excitement tonight, and you’re definitely going to need the help to make it two weeks.”

What did Lord Byron’s poetry have to do with the ridiculous bet? Rae had no idea, and from the smirk on the old lady’s face, she didn’t want to know.

“Walk me out,” Conn whispered, his eyes heavy and dark. Automatically, her body tightened, heating up all over again, just from the look in his eyes. Her gaze settled on his lips.

“You know the way, Verrill Connagher.” Miss Belle shooed him outside, holding Rae back when she would have gone with him out the door. “You can show Rae Lynn the shortcut some other day.”

“Don’t I get a kiss good night?”

“You had your kiss. I’m not losing this bet to Colonel Healy! Now get!”

Chapter Six

Dear Dr. Connagher:

I’ve made a terrible mistake. I’m miserable. And I have no one to blame but myself.

Writing you like this is my only sanity. You’re the only person I can talk to. What am I going to say to Daddy, once the hardest-working man I know, now confined to a wheelchair and his bed, mute and unable to care for himself?

You were right, Daddy.

What do I do now? How can I complain about my marriage to him when he’s lost so much more than me?

All I lost is you, and it was my own fault. My own choice.

Sometimes sneaking in here to you, I feel like I’m having an affair. After all these years, you still have the ability to scare me spitless. I’ve taken vows; I made a serious commitment.

When I give my word, I keep it. You know that. I gave my word to Richard and I said, “I do.”

Yet if you walked in here today and crooked your little finger at me, I’d follow you anywhere. No communication beyond my one-sided letters to you in years, and I’d break my word and dishonor my vows simply to be with you.

Sometimes… I’m crying here. Sometimes I wish you would drive up, roll down your window and turn those powerful blues on me. “Come with me, Rae.” And I would. Without hesitation.

I thought I was saving myself by leaving you. But now I’m drowning myself day by day.

It’s a slow murderous death. Please, Conn, if you cared for me even a little…

Save me from myself.

~ Rae

The solid thwack of wood on wood echoed in the arena. Conn absorbed his friend’s strike and used his momentum to spin his practice sword back up in a smooth arc. Mason blocked him effortlessly.

Before they’d started drilling each Wednesday before class, this arena would have most likely been empty. Oh, a few die-hard rodeo riders might have been up this early to exercise their horses, but for the most part, the college community didn’t get up at six o’clock in the morning, let alone to practice a sword drill. To watch two professors beat each other with swords, though, a weekly crowd ranging from a handful to sometimes dozens of students showed up.

Mason looked rather rough this morning with bloodshot eyes and shadowed jaws. Yet he pushed Conn just as hard, and he felt another bead of sweat roll down his face.

Grunting with effort, Mason caught a solid blow on his sword. “You’re awfully chipper this morning.”

“I ought to be.” Conn parried again, lunging forward to push his friend to the side to avoid backing him into a pile of horse dung, one of the downsides to practicing here. “I found Rae.”

Mason whistled. “The student who drove Dr. Perfect to—”

Grimly, Conn slammed several powerful blows, preventing his friend’s jibe. Breathing hard, Mason finally signaled a pause, with a few cheers from the watching crowd. Dripping sweat, Conn retrieved his water bottle and slugged half of it. “She was married.”

“Ah. I thought you were rather enthusiastic this morning.”

“Not only was she married, but I think—” Rage pulsed through Conn as strong as ever.

It’s a good thing he’d sworn off beating the shit out of people many years ago, because if he ever laid eyes on Rae’s ex-husband, he’d be tempted to put Dick six feet below ground. The hospital was too good for that asshole.

Not good, not good at all. He couldn’t afford to lose control like this. He’d hoped to burn off some of this tension this morning, but the sword work had hardly put a dent in his rage.

“He abused her. I don’t know how much or how bad, but it was enough to make her divorce him. For her, I know what a difficult decision that must have been. Rae’s not a quitter and she takes her word seriously. It must have killed her to finally call it quits.”

“She quit on you.”

“No, that’s not fair. She had no relationship with me other than as my student, which I violated. She was right to leave. God only knows what I might have done, how I might have hurt her, if I—” Some things he couldn’t even tell his best friend. He turned away, the guilt as fresh and raw as an open wound. “It was my fault, Mason.”

“And now that she’s back, what are you going to do? She’s already tying you up in a quantum knot.”

Conn laughed, jagged and harsh but amused, too. His friend didn’t know the half of it.

“That’s what you’re for. I need to drill hard every single day for the next week or so, if you’re up for it.”

Groaning, Mason flopped down on a bench. “How early?”

“Early. Unless you’re too hung-over.”

“Give me a break, Conn. You know what this weekend is.”

The three-year anniversary of the death of Mason’s state-patrol wife. “Are you holding up okay?”

Mason shrugged and didn’t meet his gaze. “Sure. Last night I had mid-terms to grade and so I stayed out a bit longer than usual.”

“No wonder you needed a few drinks. I never understood calculus unless I was three sheets to the wind.”

His friend laughed, but it sounded forced to Conn’s ears. “So how’d you find your missing student after all these years?”

“I didn’t. Miss Belle tracked her down.” And boy would there be hell to pay when Rae found out the extent of how she’d been set up.

“I never want to end up on that lady’s bad side. So where’s your student been hiding out?”

Conn stuffed their practice swords in a big duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder.

Together, they walked out to his car where he stowed the bag in the trunk. “You know, I never found out where she’s been.”

He’d tried to block out the image of her living with another man, sharing another man’s house and bed. If she’d been living in Springfield all this time with another man, he’d try to gut himself with that dull wooden sword. How many nights had he jerked awake with her name on his lips after dreaming of seeing her on the street, at the grocery store, on campus?

“Too busy getting into her pants to find out where she lived?”

Firmly, Conn slammed the door shut on the image of her ass framed in those incredibly tight jeans as she crawled beneath the porch. “Shut up. So are we on for tomorrow?”

“Sure, but you’re responsible for bringing the coffee.”

***

Armed with a spiral notebook and several pencils the next morning, Rae took a survey of Beulah Land or Healy House, or whatever the hell Miss Belle was calling the B&B. On one page, she made a list of everything structurally that needed to be fixed, or that she recommended fixing for cosmetic reasons. On another page, she had a list of requests from Miss Belle, like the koi pond down by the gazebo. Then she started making phone calls.

A roofer would be by tomorrow morning. Of course, the front gate needed work. A landscaper would come help with the pond. She’d noticed some water marks on the attic and second floor ceilings, which would probably be resolved by the roof repairs. Thankfully, those areas of the grand old house hadn’t been renovated yet. Once the roof was sealed, Miss Belle could bring in her finishers to paint the plaster.

After last night’s craziness, she’d been afraid whether Miss Belle would actually let her work, or if the old lady would hang around second-guessing everything she did. She didn’t seem to be the kind of lady who let things happen without her nose stuck in it. Miracle of miracles, though, the old gal finished breakfast, made sure Rae had everything she needed, and then jumped in her Caddy and drove off to go shopping in Branson. Definitely a crazy old lady to face the tourists and traffic just to shop!

The best painter she knew was able to stop by since he was in the area. Joe was up on a ladder checking the integrity of the old paint, scraping here and there up under the eaves on each wall to catch any rot that needed to be addressed before the new paint went up.

Rae’s cell phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number. “This is the Fix-It Lady making your house nightmare right. What can I do for you today?”

“Pop quiz, darlin’.”

Broad daylight without a single touch, and her breasts tightened to the point she wished she had a denim shirt on over her tee shirt. “Good morning to you too. Did you sleep well?”

She moved down the side of the house toward the front porch. She’d been wondering how long it’d take him to call. Checking her watch, she was impressed. He’d almost made it until noon.

“Hell no, and I had an appointment early this morning, too.” He actually growled, which made her smile. She’d slept terribly too, tossing and turning all night, aching to be in his arms.

“Tell me the poet and the choice is yours, dinner out tonight or we’ll eat with Miss Belle again.

Extra credit if you can quote some lines of the same poem. Ready?”

“What’s the extra credit worth, so I’ll know whether I should run upstairs and drag out my anthology from your class.”

Conn laughed. “No cheating, and I’m not telling you the extra credit until tonight. Just know you won’t be sorry at all to win it.”

“It’s been a long time, Dr. Connagher. What if I fail this quiz?”

“Then you’ll have a chance to see how Miss Belle can burn even microwaved leftovers.”

“Ouch, alright. I’m ready.”

“‘ The everlasting universe of things/ Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves,/

Now dark—now glittering—now reflecting gloom—’”

“That’s easy. ‘Mont Blanc’ by Percy Bysshe Shelley.”

“Excellent, Miss Jackson. Can you quote some?”

She tried to remember what came next but drew a blank other than a snippet of a line from near the end. “‘ Mont Blanc yet gleams on high. ’ That’s all I remember.”

“Good enough, that’s worth a little extra credit. So what time can I pick you up tonight?”

“Where are we going?”

“A little place I know called Mythos in Joplin.”

Wow, that was a bit of a drive. Which reminded her of something. “How about six o’clock and a favor?”

“Anything.”

That silky seductive voice made shivers slide down her spine. Damn, he’d be good at phone sex. Who was she kidding? From what she’d seen, he was good at anything that had to do with sex. “Can I take your Mustang for a little test drive?”

“You can drive us tonight if you want.”

Richard would’ve died before letting her drive his flashy SUV. “Some men don’t like the little woman driving their baby.”

“Blow the engine up. Run it off a cliff, as long as you’re not in it, of course. I don’t give a rat’s ass about the car, darlin’. You’re my baby and you can drive it anywhere, anyplace, anytime you want.”

Her throat felt thick and tight, but she tried to laugh it off. “I’m a bit of a speed demon.”

“Bring it on, darlin’. But I have one request, too.”

“What?” Anything, her heart screamed.

“Wear something white, and I’m not talking panties. Actually, I’d prefer you didn’t even have anything on beneath.”

Remembering that tiny little mini-skirt still in the suitcase stuffed in the guest closet, Rae shuddered. No way in hell, even if the damned thing still fit. “Is that an order?”

Because she didn’t know if that was the kind of game she wanted to play with him or not. If he truly thought it a game…maybe. But if he was serious, she’d forget her promise and run like hell. She wasn’t changing herself again for any man. Not even him.

“Do you want it to be?”

She sharpened her voice to prove she could. “No.”

“Then I beg most humbly that you torment me with something white and don’t tell me what you’re wearing underneath. Make me work for that knowledge.”

Another wave of heat washed over her. Yeah, she could do that. “What is it with you and white?”

“White is virginal innocence, which brings out all my wickedness and debauchery. To a man like me, it’s like waving the white flag of surrender. I see you pure and innocent in white and I can think of nothing else but all the ways I might be able to get that pretty white a bit dirty.”

Oh. Her face felt like she’d fallen into a campfire. She leaned against a formal column of the front porch, trying to calm her breathing. She wasn’t some fluff-brained twit of a virgin ready to blush and swoon at the slightest thought of sex, but somehow, he had that effect on her. If she was white, he was sinful black.

“You’re blushing. And that drives me wild, too.”

He didn’t sound wild at all, but rather terribly calm, promising hours of sensual torment.

Her voice was throaty, but at least she found it. “I don’t have a white dress, and I don’t do shopping.” Not even for you.

“Wear whatever you’ve got, darlin’. I’ll still want to debauch you.”

“Nobody says debauch anymore.” A startled curse from the painter sent Rae hurrying back around the house. “I’ve got to go. Something’s up.”

She hung up and found Joe swiping fresh emerald green paint off his face and hands.

“What happened?”

“I was going to paint a few test colors for you and Miss Belle to look at and the can just blew up in my face.”

“Well, you look good in green.” Laughter wiped some of the sheepish anger off the man’s face. She couldn’t afford to lose him—he was one of the best housepainters she’d ever met. Most people would argue anybody could paint a house, but she begged to differ. What Joe did was art, plain and simple. Plus, he knew the right historic colors to use.

“I guess the house just doesn’t like green.” Joe said, shaking his head. “Look at the wall.

Not a drop. In fifteen years I’ve never had a can blow up like that on me. It should have sprayed everywhere.”

Hair prickled at the base of her neck, a hint of chill creeping down her spine. Something odd was definitely going on in this house. What’d she expect when Miss Belle supposedly talked to her dead husband enough to make that ridiculous bet? “What other colors do you have?”

“I figured you’d want to stay white on the walls, but some of the trim could use a punch.

The black here on the eaves and trim is a little boring. Lots of houses used this hunter green way back when, but it’s a little fresher.”

“Let’s talk to Miss Belle, but she’ll likely want to stay white and black.” Seemed to be a family theme going here. “What about the front porch columns?”

Joe picked up a couple of pints and they walked around to the front of the house. “The color’s faded so bad I couldn’t tell what it used to be. Something soft, like a muted pastel.”

Gingerly, he set the paint cans down on the ground, keeping an eye on them. “I thought maybe a pale lilac would be nice.”

One of the paint cans fell over and rolled down the lawn toward the driveway. Rae stared at it, her mouth falling open in shock. She glanced at Joe to see his reaction, and his face was pale and sweaty.

His voice shook. “Or gray…”

The can shook, rattling, and the lid bulged like it was going to explode. They both took a wary step back.

“Or this really soft pale pink,” he said hurriedly. “It’s called Rosebud Blush.”

The other can stopped shaking.

Joe licked his lips. “I think the house wants pink. I’m not imagining this, right? You saw it?”

Rae nodded, her eyes wide. She remembered the weird swinging chandelier in the library when she’d first interviewed. The chills she kept getting. The way Miss Belle knew who was at the door last night before Bill Franklin had ever said a word. “It’s not the house. It’s a…

ghost.”

Colonel Healy’s ghost truly did haunt Beulah Land.

Her cell phone rang again. Still shaken, she didn’t look at the number but flipped it open.

“I don’t have time for another pop quiz.”

“Rae?” Her mother’s voice was shaky.

Immediately, her heart clenched with worry. “Is Daddy okay?”

“He’s fine.”

“What’s wrong, Mom?”

“Richard stopped by here today asking questions.”

Dread roiled in the pit of her stomach. “What’d he want?”

“He wanted to know where you were. I told him I didn’t know, but you’d gotten a new job. Did I say too much?”

“No, that’s fine. Listen, if he stops by again, call me immediately. I’m not going to let him bother you and Daddy. I’ll get a restraining order if I have to.”

“I’m not worried about us, Rae, but you. I always thought he’d give you more problems than he did with the divorce.”

“Yeah, me too.” As ugly as their last fight had been, she’d been surprised when he’d slunk off without a word after the divorce. Or had he? The thought made her stomach heave.

“I’ll keep an eye out for him.”

“Take care of yourself, Rae.”

Chapter Seven

Miss Belle flopped into a wing-backed chair, surrounded by packages. “What a simply wonderful day!”

Coming in from the kitchen with a tray, Rae had to smile. Did they even have that many pink outfits in all of Branson? “Would you like a cup of tea, Miss Belle?”

“Oh, you sweet dear. Thank you.”

She poured, trying to decide the best way to broach the whole ghost situation. She kept trying to convince herself she’d been mistaken, but the memory of that poor man covered in emerald green paint…

“You simply must come with me next time, Rae Lynn. I’ve missed shopping for my girls all these years.”

Shopping for her girls? Eyes narrowed, Rae shot another glance at the bags.

“I’m usually very good at judging sizes, but I’m afraid I might be slightly out of practice.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did,” the old lady replied smugly. “Most of these are yours.”

“But—” Rae spluttered. “I can’t accept a bunch of clothes!”

“Of course you can. I specifically included a clothing allowance in your contract. What fun is a female property manager if I can’t shop for you? Now why don’t you try on a few things and model them for me. I want to help you pick out your outfit for your date tonight.”

Gritting her teeth, she concentrated on not screaming. “Absolutely not.”

***

Sighing, Conn rubbed his eyes. Maybe a few drinks with Mason would make these composition books easier to wade through. Freshman English essays were always a trial, but this semester he despaired of ever teaching anybody anything. Some of the essays read like a kindergartener had written them.

Trying to grade right after lunch was probably a mistake, but he’d hoped to at least make a dent in the stack before the evening. An evening with Rae, alone, far from Miss Belle’s ever watching eyes. What he wouldn’t give to have Rae sitting across from him now in that outrageously short skirt.

Groaning at the thought, he opened the top essay. Maybe it was for the best that she didn’t own a white dress.

This one was actually written in crayon. Lord Byron is a dead dude who wrote crappy poetry.

“They don’t pay me enough for this shit,” he muttered, and immediately felt guilty. He’d never signed up to teach for the money. Shuffling the crayon masterpiece to the bottom of the stack, he selected another and braced himself to dig in and search for some glimmer of understanding.

His office door opened.

Everyone knew to leave him alone if his door was shut. Frowning, he looked up and his stomach turned to cold, hard lead. He should have locked his door. “Miss Barrak, my office hours are over.”

Olivia Barrak sidled up to his desk anyway, planted her hands on his polished cherry desk and leaned down to show an ample amount of cleavage. Conn actually feared she might fall out of the ridiculously skimpy bra right into his face. “You had too many students earlier, Dr. Connagher, and I must speak to you about my mid-term.”

“There’s nothing to discuss, Miss Barrak.” Deliberately, he made his voice hard and cool. He’d been having problems with this student all semester, not only her inappropriate behavior toward him personally, but also her terrible work and now attempted cheating in his class. Even if Drury didn’t have a zero-tolerance policy, he would have failed her. She obviously thought she could get through life on looks alone.

Chesty and curvy with thick platinum hair artfully styled to frame her heart-shaped face and pouty lips, she reminded him of Marilyn Monroe. Blatant sexuality had never been his type. In fact, the cooing, smoldering look on her face twisted his stomach.

Another student had come to his office hours regularly five years ago, and he’d looked forward to every single moment with Rae. He’d relished the agony of sitting behind his desk and watching her steal glances at him while he drilled her on poetry. The difference between her and this troublesome student was monumental. Rae had worked her butt off for him. He’d assigned extra reading and assignments, and she’d done them all to the best of her ability.

She’d never be a star English student writing comparative essays, but her effort, her spark of enjoyment and desire to learn had more than outweighed her inabilities.

Olivia Barrak would never be his type, not in a million years, not even if he’d never met Rae.

He stood and shoved composition books into his leather bag. “You know my policy on cheating, Miss Barrak, as well as the university’s.”

“But, Dr. Connagher, I wasn’t cheating! Honest!”

Dean Strobel knocked on his door and stuck her head in.

Good, Conn thought, mentally relieved. He’d asked the front desk to notify the dean or any present professor if Miss Barrak came to his office again so he could have witnesses. She had the personality of a shark, and if she couldn’t win with her looks, she might attempt to sabotage his career. While he’d justifiably deserved to be fired for what he’d done to Rae behind his locked office door, he’d be damned before he let Olivia Barrak drive him from campus because he dared reject her advances.

Dean Strobel gave the student her infamous arched eyebrow stare that could whip even the most recalcitrant professor into sitting on yet another committee. “Miss Barrak, you were reported as cheating today on your mid-term.”

“No, ma’am, I wasn’t cheating. That’s why I came to Dr. Connagher’s office.”

“So you’re calling Dr. Connagher a liar?”

Conn kept his mouth shut. The dean knew very well what kind of student this was and could handle her. He didn’t need to be running off at the mouth, no matter how pissed off he was.

Simpering at him even with a witness to her behavior, Miss Barrak replied, “He’s mistaken.”

“Well, then, the resolution to this problem is simple. I will re-instate you into Freshman English—”

Olivia practically cooed and swayed back toward him. “Oh, thank you, Dean, I—”

“However.” Dean Strobel’s brutally cold voice froze Olivia in place and wiped the sultry smile off her face. “You will transfer to my class.”

Olivia paled and turned big cow eyes to him as though he would help by fighting for her honor. In all honesty, it was all he could do not to dance in celebration that he’d be free of her.

This girl was Trouble which he didn’t need, not with a former student back in his life.

“Dean, please reconsider! I’m certain that I’ll learn better with Dr. Connagher.”

“Are you insulting my teaching skills, Miss Barrak?” The girl babbled incoherently, nearly in tears, but Dean Strobel ignored her playacting. “Besides, your current grade with Dr.

Connagher is barely above fifty percent. Surely even I can teach you better than that.” Dean Strobel winked at him. “If you’re willing.”

The dean led the spluttering, whining student to her office to arrange for formal transfer.

Conn sagged on a huge sigh of relief. He might have a reputation for toughness in his upper-level classes, but nobody graded as hard and demanding as Dean Strobel. Olivia Barrak had met her match alright. She’d be lucky to come out of the class alive.

He felt a sudden overwhelming urge to see Rae, to hear her voice and confirm that she was still there. What if she disappeared on him again? Did she honestly still want him? Could they ever find a happy medium ground where they could both be happy, unafraid, and utterly fulfilled?

He locked his office door and quickly headed for his car. She was his for the night. His.

Blood pumping, he tore out of the parking lot and drove to the gym for a long, hard workout.

No matter what it takes, I will not scare her away this time.

***

Stiff as a board, Rae stared at herself in the mirror while Miss Belle fussed and cooed, adjusting ribbons.

Ribbons.

Lots of fluffy gauzy stuff and silky satin material.

All white.

Miss Belle certainly knew her grandson’s taste in women’s clothing. The dress should have made her look like a little girl…but it was cut like a babydoll negligee. The gathered bodice tied with tiny ribbons, sheered gathers skimming down her waist and hips to fall short of her knees. Tiny little straps bared her shoulders, while most of the back was open.

“I can’t wear this. It looks like a nightgown.” A very sexy nightgown.

“That’s why the silk sheath is underneath, dear.” Miss Belle stepped back, tilting her head. “It’s perfect. Now for your hair—”

“I’m not going to fix myself up like a fake Barbie doll. I’m not changing myself for any man!”

“Balderdash. Getting dressed up is not changing yourself. This is your chance to do something nice for yourself.” Miss Belle yanked the ponytail holder out of her still-damp hair from her earlier shower and Rae yelped as the old lady attacked with a hairbrush. “Don’t stand there and tell me you never in your life wanted to dress up like a princess. This is your chance.”

“If he wants a princess he can forget it.”

“He wants you, Rae Lynn.” In moments, Miss Belle had her hair brushed out. A few well-placed pins with crystal heads, and Rae didn’t even recognize herself. “Look at yourself, sweetheart. It is you. You can be the woman you always wanted to be, whatever that means to you, and he’ll embrace you, fully, wholly, without any restrictions.”

Dabbing at her eyes proudly, Miss Belle beamed at her in the mirror. “And if not, I’ll give you the parasol I used to keep handy to club some sense into Colonel Healy, God rest his soul.”

Oh, yeah, Rae knew the crazy old lady would have a loaded parasol somewhere.

The lights flickered.

“I think I need to call an electrician in.” Forgetting the dreamy vision in the mirror, Rae cast a worried glance up at the light fixture. It was at least fifty years old. “Did you actually hit your husband?”

“Only a few times. I assure you, he deserved it.” Miss Belle shot a glare over the corner of her shoulder. “Didn’t you, honey?”

Pipes rattled and groaned in the wall.

“And a plumber,” Rae whispered. “Um, Miss Belle, I was meaning to talk to you about some very strange things that happened today…”

“Don’t worry about Colonel Healy. He’s harmless, for the most part. His bark always was worse than his bite.”

“He’s still around, then? Like a…a…”

The doorbell rang. Miss Belle cocked her head, listening, and alarm flickered across her face. She whirled and rushed for the stairs, Rae on her heels. They hurried downstairs and Miss Belle threw open the door. “What happened?”

Sobbing, Samantha threw herself into the old lady’s arms. “Oh, Miss Belle, it’s so awful! Bill is dead and I think…I think I killed him!”

It took several starts, another pot of tea, and lots of soothing before Samantha got out her story.

“Last night was terrible. I was angry at him for bothering you, and we fought. He can be so mean and nasty when he wants to be. So today, I was home, of course, and I wanted to try some recipes. He came in all sugar and nice like he could make up for being a jerk, loaded down with presents we can’t afford. You know he hasn’t worked in months, so I have no idea where he got the money.

“Then he asked me to bake him some of those brownies he loves so much. He’s diabetic, Miss Belle, you know that. I shouldn’t have made them. I know he drinks, he forgets to take his medicine, but I was so tired of our fights. I made them just to shut him up.”

Her voice sounded so fragile, her eyes huge in her tear-stained face. “I even put extra sugar in them and lots of chocolate. Then I took a whole plateful to him. He sat there eating brownies all afternoon and drinking beer. I left to pick up the kids, and…and…”

Samantha trembled. “When I came back, he was dead. I called the ambulance but it was too late. I killed him with brownies!” A fervent hardness flickered in her eyes that surprised Rae. “And I’m glad.” Then the cook burst into tears again and buried her face against the old woman’s shoulder. “I didn’t know where else to go!”

Sick to her stomach, Rae stood in the silly white dress wondering if in a few years, she would have been driven to kill Richard to get rid of him. If she hadn’t finally resorted to divorce, would she have done something as drastic? Yeah, she decided, remembering the rage that had pulsed in her when he’d hit her. If she’d had a gun in the house, she’d have shot him right there in her kitchen.

What was it about kitchens and domestic disturbances, anyway?

Miss Belle patted the other woman on the back soothingly. “Of course you’re glad, Samantha. He saved you the trouble of having to divorce his ass by croaking.” She tilted the woman’s face up to her and wiped her tears. “Now you go home to those precious children.

Don’t say a word. If the police question you, tell the truth. You made brownies, left to get the children, came home, and found him.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s the truth, isn’t it?” Miss Belle smiled that shark smile again that gave Rae chills.

“You did not kill your husband, Samantha, not knowingly with deliberate malice. Colonel Healy assures me someone else is the culprit.”

“But—”

“Go home and take care of your children,” Miss Belle repeated. “Don’t come here again until after the funeral. I have some investigations to do. I’ll see you in a few days.”

Standing on the porch with the old woman, Rae watched Samantha drive away, calmer now that she had allies on her side with a clear plan. The old lady waved and sighed, turning back inside. “Let’s hope I can figure out who really killed him before the grand opening. I refuse to give up the best cook in Missouri to the police, even if she were guilty!”

Chapter Eight

Dear Dr. Connagher:

Remember how I said in my last letter I felt like I was having an affair with you, even though I haven’t seen you in…two years now? Nearly three. Has it truly been so long?

I committed adultery with you in my mind last night, and the guilt is eating away at me.

As you probably suspect—if you were truly reading these letters—my marriage to Richard is rocky at best. We fight a lot. I’m starting to realize there’s a huge difference between “control”

—as in, “I like control, Rae,” as you said in your office—

and “controlling”.

He’s a subtle bastard when he manipulates me. Most of the time I don’t even realize it until later. More guilt. More shame. Why don’t I stand up for myself? If it truly bothers me, why not say something? But it’s the little things that weigh on me. I feel selfish and childish when I complain he doesn’t listen to me: my opinions, my objections, my preferences. Not to mention my preferences in the bedroom.

The whole reason I left you was my fear that I’d let you do anything you wanted to me, even if it hurt, simply because that’s what you wanted. Yet in nearly two full years of marriage, Richard has never made me feel like you did in your office that day.

Not once.

In efforts to “spice things up”, we decided to explore “fantasies”. I agreed to live out his fantasy. I let him tie me up and blindfold me. And do you know what happened next?

I giggled.

Seriously, it was funny, like a joke. I wasn’t scared or intimated, let alone turned on.

How could he think to pull off some kind of dominant role like that? Did he really think I’d feel trapped, out of control, scared? Of him? Needless to say, the little fantasy scene didn’t go so well after that.

Lying awake in the darkness, I remembered that day in your office. What it felt like to be held face down on your desk, truly trapped, where whatever happened was totally out of my control. I was powerless against you, and not because of any bonds you used.

I let myself picture it. Tied up, blindfolded, helpless for you.

My heart pounded, I broke out in a sweat, blood rushing in my ears, muscles tightening, clenching. Oh, yeah, turned on, definitely, for you, only for you. Despite the years and distance between us, I felt closer to you that moment than my pissed-off husband lying a few feet away.

In my mind, I let you do anything, everything you wanted. I loved it. I needed it. I cried and moaned in my sleep, and I cried when I woke up because it was all a dream.

This morning, Richard left for work without saying a word to me. And here I am, writing you. I’ve come to a terrible realization, Conn. I guess I like control too, but only when you’re the one with the bonds.

I realized something else, just now as I type this. Richard never asked me what my fantasy was so he could make it happen for me. And that tells it all, doesn’t it.

He couldn’t give it to me anyway, because my fantasy is you.

~ Rae

Conn stared at her without saying a word. She tried to read his reaction, but his face was locked down hard. He was gorgeous, as always, dressed all in black. Instead of a suit, though, he’d gone with black jeans, thick black boots, topped with a black leather jacket that made her shiver.

He looked grim, hard and controlled, even a little threatening.

Her heartbeat sped up and she licked her lips. “Miss Belle went shopping.”

His mouth curved slightly. “So I see. Are you ready?”

His voice was low and soft, not angry. Did he hate this outfit? It was short and sexy, too, just like that mini-skirt he’d spanked her for wearing. She shivered and closed her eyes a moment. How long would it take him to verify whether or not she had anything on beneath this flimsy little dress? “Bye, Miss Belle!”

“Have a wonderful time, Rae Lynn,” Miss Belle called from the study, where she’d retreated to begin her “investigations”. What the old lady thought she could do for her possibly murderous cook—no matter how justified—Rae had no idea. “Don’t forget the bet!”

As if she needed another excuse to stay out of Conn’s bed. She stepped outside and his palm settled on her lower back, heat seeping through to her skin. Automatically, she started toward the passenger side of his Mustang, but he stepped ahead and opened the driver’s door for her. “Didn’t you want to drive?”

Pleased but still unsure of his mood, she slid into the black leather seat. She tossed the new white beaded purse—that Miss Belle insisted she had to carry to complete the outfit—into the back seat. He’d already moved the bucket seat up for her.

He shut the door while she tinkered with the mirrors and scanned all the equipment. It was a relatively new car, satellite radio, CD player, gleaming and polished black everywhere.

As soon as he was in and belted, she started the engine, a rumbling purr that brought the car to life. Throwing it into gear, she spun out of the driveway.

“If you get a speeding ticket, you’re paying for it,” he said mildly.

“It’ll be worth it.”

The car was incredible, humming with power as she drove down the one-horse road leading through town. In moments, they were on the freeway heading toward Joplin and she floored it to eighty miles per hour, zipping through light traffic easily. She enjoyed the speed a few minutes but then slowed down to a more reasonable five miles per hour over the posted limit. She really didn’t want him teasing her later about a ticket. “Why Mythos? Joplin’s a good hour away.”

“It’s my favorite restaurant south of Kansas City and very worth the drive. How was your day?”

“Strange to say the least.” Did he know about the ghostly events that happened at the house? “We had terrible news this afternoon that Bill Franklin passed away.”

She filled him in, her stomach clenching with dread. Ugly memories of her own marriage gone bad filled her head.

“Poor Samantha. Was Dick like that?”

Staring straight ahead, Rae nodded. “He could be mean, yeah. Sometimes it was the silent treatment, but usually he exploded, hit something, and then he was fine.”

“Did he hit you?” Conn’s voice suddenly went steely.

“Once.”

“And he’s not dead?”

Surprised, she glanced at him quickly. He was deadly serious. “It was our last big fight, and when he hit me, I kicked him out of the house. I told him if he ever came back, I would shoot him. And I would have,” she whispered harshly, gripping the wheel. “I should have kicked him out years before. Should’ve would’ve could’ve. Shit. I shouldn’t have married him at all.”

“That’s my darlin’; shoot the bastard on sight.” Conn reached over and put his hand on her thigh, his grip firm but comforting. “I made mistakes, too, Rae. Everybody does. It’s how you fix them that matters. You know that, Fix-It Lady.”

“What mistakes did you make?”

“Too many to count.” He sighed and stared out the passenger window, but he didn’t take his hand away. “I learned a lot about myself while you were gone, Rae. I ran through every single thing I’d done with you and realized I should have told you from day one what kind of man I am.”

What kind of man I am. Wicked, hard, demanding, sexy as hell. She stole another glance at his averted face, wishing she could see the look in his eyes. “I did a little research on my own once I left.”

That got his attention. He turned, his eyes midnight blue. “Research about what?”

“About spanking and…stuff. Kinky shit.”

His mouth quirked, some of the darkness in his eyes turning to heat. “Where did you research kinky shit, darlin’? This is the Bible Belt.”

“Google is my friend.”

He made a disgusted sound and she laughed out loud.

“I know, I know, you hate the internet. But if I’d taken the time to do a little research beforehand, maybe I wouldn’t have freaked out so much after what happened in your office.”

He slid closer, turning to face her and switching to his right hand, sliding his palm from her knee up to cup her inner thigh beneath the dress. “What scares you the most, right now, right this minute?”

“Having an accident because you’re driving me nuts.”

Laughing, he kissed her shoulder and didn’t move his hand up any higher. “I’ll be good, darlin’. No panty exploration yet. What about me scares you the most?”

“The most?” Her breathing sounded loud and ragged to her ears. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to tell you no.”

“And that’s bad, why?”

She arched a brow at him.

“I’m serious. If you trust me to take care of you, then you shouldn’t ever be afraid I’d hurt you. It’d kill me to hurt you, really hurt you.”

“I don’t have any willpower when I’m with you. I don’t even know what I want. I’m afraid—”

He kissed her shoulder again, just the slow, lazy brush of his mouth, but everything south went on high alert.

“—that I’ll lose myself.”

“Lose yourself in me, darlin’, because I’m safe.”

She laughed with a hard, wry edge to her voice. “I married Richard because I thought he was safe. He was completely opposite you. You’re dangerous, Verrill Connagher. Very dangerous indeed.”

“Now that’s definitely worth a spanking. I hate my real name. Why do you think I’m dangerous?”

“You look at me—”

He nuzzled her shoulder, still gentle and soft, but it was like cuddling a tiger. When would he show his teeth? “You melt?”

“I can’t even think. He didn’t affect me that way. But I still lost myself, day by day. I hated it. It’s taken me a year and more to find myself again, and I’m not giving that up. Not even for you.”

He raised his head, staring into her face. She was deadly serious. She honestly thought…

Irony was a bastard. She’d run from him because she was afraid he’d hurt her, and then she’d married a man who had hurt her more than Conn’s worst nightmare.

Despite the agony of the last five years, he felt a reluctant relief that she’d run. She had so many misconceptions about what he wanted. If she didn’t have the courage to ask, he might have ended up crushing her spirit without even realizing it.

The thought made his chest hurt. “I don’t want you to change or give up anything. I would never ask such a thing.”

“You wouldn’t have to ask me,” she said grimly, tightening her grip on the wheel. “I told you, I was afraid of myself, too. If I thought you wanted me to do something, I’d do it, just to make you happy, whether you actually asked me to or not.”

“You got me all wrong, darlin’. My number one concern is your happiness, safety, and especially, your pleasure. Quit worrying about what I might want you to do, and decide what you want. It’s my job to see that you get it.”

She shot a doubtful glance at him and then jerked her attention back to the road. “Really?

I thought…” She gnawed on her lip, obviously trying to decide how much to admit to him.

Settling back in the seat, he smiled. He’d push a little, and not in the way she expected.

Then he’d figure out what secret fantasies she’d had of him. “So you read about control and submission?”

Nodding jerkily, she shifted her sweaty palms on the wheel and very studiously kept her gaze straight ahead.

“Bondage?”

Another nod.

“Masochism?”

“Some.” Her voice cracked. “I’m not really sure we should be talking about this now.”

He smiled despite the fire raging in his blood. Sweet and sexy in that white dress, a siren of innocence, Rae tested his control like nobody he’d ever met in his entire life. It was all he could do not to jerk the wheel over to the side of the road so he could haul her over into his lap and remove that dress. “Now is the perfect time. You said you chose Dick because he wasn’t like me. Do you mean that he literally was submissive, or just not as dominant as me?”

“He wasn’t submissive, but he wasn’t dominant, either.” Her gaze flickered toward him again and her mouth tightened slightly. I never really thought about it with him.”

“Tell me.”

Faintly, she whispered, “I really can’t talk about that right now.”

“Just drive, darlin’, and tell me. It’ll be easier this way; you won’t even have to look at me. Pretend I’m not even here in person. In fact, pretend like you’re writing me a letter.”

“I did,” she said quickly, then winced.

Ah, she hadn’t meant to tell him that, either. “I never received a letter from you.”

“That’s because I never mailed them,” she muttered. “After that first one where I explained why I wasn’t coming back to Drury, I found myself thinking about you and writing you all the time.”

He wanted to read those letters so badly that he tightened his grip on the door and his thigh to keep from putting his hands to use for wooing and coercing. Forcing lightness to his voice, he asked, “Are you going to let me read them?”

Again, she bit her lip, and her voice was trembly when she finally spoke. “Maybe.”

Those letters were obviously very honest and raw if she was so reluctant to share them, which only made him want them more. He wanted to get inside her head, read about her fears and dreams and longings all those years. Pushing to read them would be like salt in a wound, so he backed off. “We’ll negotiate that later, then. Tell me whatever you thought of when I asked you about Dick. How was he in bed?”

The thought of discussing sex with another man—with him—must have been mortifying.

A tremor shook her shoulders and she bit her lip. Mentally preparing himself, he forced his hand off the door and breathed deeply and easily. He didn’t relish hearing about her sex life with another man, but there were too many red flags in her past that he had to understand.

She’d feared him enough to run for five years. He had to know how much worse the bastard had made those fears.

The silence weighed heavier in the car with each passing minute, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t push her, but he knew her well. She’d never been able to sit quietly in his class when he asked a question if no one else responded. It was part of her innate desire to please him, which he would have to be careful not to abuse.

When he was going to sigh defeat and change the subject, she finally answered. “Not bad, but not…explosive. Not like I think it will be with you.”

Now that definitely stroked his male ego. She didn’t know the half of what he wanted to do to her. “Did you want him to do kinky shit with you?”

She clutched the wheel hard, shifting her hands on the leather until it creaked. “The one time he tried…” She fell silent, her jaws grinding, her lips a slash. “It wasn’t the same.”

“The same as…in my office?” He couldn’t help the purring rumble in his voice; he was too turned on. “You mean it wasn’t as good as what I did on my desk? What did he do?”

“He wanted to tie me up, blindfold me. It was…boring. Silly.”

“So you weren’t turned on. You didn’t enjoy it.”

She shook her head vigorously and swallowed hard. “Not until… I… I thought of…

you. Dreams, that night, and—”

If he touched her right now, he’d likely embarrass himself. He’d have to ask her to turn around and drive home so he could change his pants. “You came in your dreams thinking about me? Hell, darlin’, I lost count of the wet dreams I had thinking of you.”

Guilt thickened her voice with unshed tears. “Yeah, but I committed adultery with you.”

His heart hurt for her again. She’d stayed in that unhappy marriage because she’d given her word. For years, all she’d had were dreams of him, which in turn, brought her closer to breaking her solemn oath. He’d been absent from her life for five years, but he’d still indirectly wrought her divorce. God help him, he was glad. Glad that she’d divorced that other man, glad that she was here, now.

“If Dick had satisfied you, you wouldn’t have thought of me. But I’m glad he was a pussy in bed with you, darlin’. I’m glad you dreamed about me.” Wicked satisfaction curled in the pit of his stomach, helping him control the vicious need thundering in his body. “So, in these dreams, what did you let me do?”

Rae shrugged, glanced at the road sign, and frowned. He still had plenty of time to hear some of her forbidden fantasies before they reached Joplin.

“Did you let me tie you up?” She started to look at him, eyes wide, mouth falling open, but he reminded her to drive. “Blindfold you? I did, didn’t I? And you liked it. It drove you wild. There was nothing you could do but scream and beg and cry. And come again and again and again.”

Her foot eased off the accelerator, her hands slackening on the wheel. He reached over and steadied the car, keeping them in their lane.

“Is that what you dreamed, darlin’?”

“Are you—” She gulped. “Are you going to do that? For real?”

“Hell yeah, and about a million other things I’ve dreamed about for five years. Whatever you’ll enjoy. That’s the most important thing to remember, Rae. If you’re not enjoying it, then we don’t do it. Period.”

“Promise?”

The slightest tremble in her voice sliced his heart to ribbons. “On Miss Belle’s Beulah Land, I swear it. The minute you’re not having a good time, tell me. We’ll pick a word that’s safe for you, and everything stops the minute you say it. Nothing, absolutely nothing happens that you don’t enjoy.”

Lightly, he settled his hand on her thigh. She still jolted, jerking the wheel reflexively.

“Shhh, darlin’. We’re talking play. Fun. When it’s not play, we stop.”

He kept his touch light and didn’t slide beneath her skirt or torment her. After a few moments, she relaxed and loosened her death grip on the wheel.

When she finally spoke, her firm, hard voice surprised him. “For five years, I was afraid to think about what happened that day. I denied it. I didn’t want to think about what it meant. I thought letting you touch me like that made me weak, vulnerable, and worst of all, stupid. My mind made up all sorts of excuses. How surely you picked a silly naïve student every semester to ‘break in’ like that. It wasn’t just me. It couldn’t have been me, what I wanted.”

Turning off the freeway, she braked at the red light and turned her attention to him. Eyes flashing and luminous, lips soft and full, her face scared but determined, she made him fall in love with her all over again. “Nobody has ever made me feel what you did that day. I want you to teach me.”

He had to be perfectly clear. She still might not fully understand what he wanted. “Teach you what, darlin’?”

“Everything.” She wet her lips, her gaze locking on his mouth. “I want you to teach me how to…submit, but only with you.”

He dared not move for fear of losing control. His greatest test loomed before him. She was the one, the one who would make him into the dominant he could be, or turn him away in shame because he handled her wrong. She was as delicate as spun glass right now. If he screwed up again, he could break her spirit and hurt her worse than Dick ever thought about.

It would kill him to fail again.

“Only me, darlin’.”

Chapter Nine

Dear Dr. Connagher:

We all wear masks, whether to protect ourselves or others. Sometimes the mask slips, and it’s a very frightening thing when the beast is revealed beneath the pleasant exterior.

Richard has so many masks that I can’t keep track of them all. He has the supervisor role he plays with the contractors, the good ole boy role with his buddies, the dutiful son-in-law with my father. All of them are fake—I just never noticed it before. One by one, those masks slipped enough for me to see the truth.

Last night, he looked at my poor crippled father in that wheelchair with contempt, and I wanted to leap on Richard and beat him to death with my own fists.

To be honest, it never occurred to me that he was only pretending, even with me.

Especially with me. Oh, Conn, he can be so terribly mean. Of course, only at home where no one can see his mask pulled aside. It sounds ridiculously immature to whine about someone being mean, but I always thought that someone who loved me, really loved me, would never be able to speak to me so harshly.

Like I’m stupid. Worthless. Dog manure to wipe off his boots.

Later, he apologized, but the damage had been done. I saw, I heard, and I can’t forget.

The man I thought I loved and loved me in return is no longer there. I suspect he never was.

Whether in class or the hallway, you treated everyone the same, from lowly non-English students, to returning students you mentored year after year, to fellow professors. You never acted differently, until it was just you and me behind your locked office door.

That’s when the real Conn peeked out.

I loved him as much as the professor, even if you scared me half to death.

I wear a mask now, putting on an “everything’s okay” face as soon as I get out of bed in the morning. I hate that damned mask. I hate pretending, losing myself a little more each day.

I’m scared, Conn. I’m scared that I’ll forget who I am until I am the mask. You’re the only man who ever saw the real me. I hold on to her, but I feel her slipping a little more each day beneath this cold, numbing mask.

The night I stop dreaming about you will be the morning I don’t have to put the mask on any longer. I’ll be a zombie, then, a ghost, the girl you knew dead and buried beneath a false façade of vapid smiles and broken dreams.

I wish you could bend me back over your desk and spank me until I feel again. Help me, Conn. Help me remember who I am.

~ Rae

Sitting down at their table in the semi-private darkened alcove of Mythos, Rae glanced about the restaurant. Greek statues, arches, carved cherubs, even mosaics decorated the elegant restaurant, but she didn’t pay much attention to them.

Everybody in the restaurant was staring at them.

Conn scooted her chair in and she snagged his arm, drawing him down to whisper in his ear. “Why’s everybody staring at us?”

Chuckling softly, he kissed her cheek and moved to sit beside her. “Because you’re gorgeous, darlin’.”

Her heart skipped a beat and shot off to the races. “The dress isn’t too much?”

“Oh, it’s too much alright. But you look gorgeous in it, Rae. You’re giving off a divine mixture of innocence and seductress that’s driving every poor man in this restaurant insane.”

“What about you?”

“Well, darlin’, I’m imagining turning you over my knee.”

Heat scalded her cheeks and she quickly buried her face in the menu, hoping to hide. “I knew you’d hate this dress. I tried to tell Miss Belle—”

“I don’t hate it, Rae.” He slid his hand beneath the table and stroked her thigh beneath the skirt. “I love it. It’s perfect and she knew it. And I still want to spank your delectable ass while I find out whether you wore anything beneath it or not.”

Heat pounded through her, heart racing, palms—and other areas—dampening. Sparing a furtive glance at the other patrons, she hesitated. She needed answers, especially about what had happened in his office that day. Perhaps in public would be for the best, as long as they whispered. No one sat close enough to overhear, and at least he couldn’t actually act on what they were talking about. “Did you spank other students?”

“Now that’s a very interesting question.” Conn laid the menu down. “These past years, I’ve worked harder at understanding myself, what makes me tick. I learned how I should have proceeded with a woman like you.”

Tired of scanning the menu, she laid hers down and took a sip of water. Not sure she really wanted to know, she asked, “Like me?”

“Eager to please, untrained and unsure, afraid of and attracted to a big bad man like me.”

He laughed softly at the look on her face, whatever it was, and took her hand in his. “I took a few trips for conferences these past years and made connections with people who could help me.”

She frowned, trying to imagine him asking for help. “With what?”

He leaned closer and whispered, “Kinky shit.”

The waiter came over. Blood was pounding and rushing in her ears too loudly for her to hear what Conn told him. Nodding, the waiter left them alone once more.

“I needed help figuring out how to break you in, so to speak, if I ever tracked you down again. I needed help reining myself in, the proper things I should do to ensure you’re safe and unafraid. The right way to build a long-term committed relationship and not just a night playing. It’s a huge difference, Rae, and even five years ago, I intended to play for keeps.

“So that’s the long answer of saying I did spank a few other women—who knew what they were and what I was. It was playing. Did I ever spank any other student? Absolutely not; I never had any relationship at all with a student before or after you. Did I ever fall for any other woman? No. Not like this.”

He waited until she met his gaze. Fingers trembling, she gripped his hand harder.

“I loved you then, Rae, and I love you more now. I’m not losing you again.”

“But—”

“We’ll work out every single objection you have as they come up. I won’t push, rush, or bully you into anything, but I’m not letting you run. You run, and I will follow, come hell or high water, and you can bet I’ll spank your ass fire-engine red when I catch you.” He leaned over and kissed her shoulder, her ear. “And then I’m going to make love to you so hard and long you won’t ever be able to run again.”

Her stomach tightened, that familiar knot of nerves insisting she should run or fight, anything but stay. But his deep blue eyes locked on her, smoldering with intensity, and she couldn’t run, not even for the fun of the chase. She didn’t want to.

The waiter returned and poured two glasses of red wine. Rae took a hesitant sip, braced to not like it. But it was sweet and warm, thick, very, very good. Sip by sip, it flowed through her spreading heat. By the darkness in Conn’s eyes, it affected him the same way.

“What is this?”

“Black Opal Shiraz. I typically drink Merlot but I thought you might like this better. It’s sweeter than I usually drink.”

“So you don’t always want the sweetest?”

“Ah, now, darlin’, that’s a loaded question.” He stretched out his arm along the back of her chair, his fingers trailing over her arm. “I want my wine red and strong with a kick. The only problem is it really heats my blood. I’ll only drink one glass tonight, or I won’t be driving us home. I’ll be too busy making you mine in the backseat of my car. My libido doesn’t need any assistance right now in running amok.”

With trembling fingers, she took another sip while he talked up the waiter. Evidently they knew him enough to recommend a new dish they thought he’d enjoy. He asked what she wanted, and she let him choose. It was probably a very submissive thing to do, but she really didn’t care, as long as it made his eyes darken. At a restaurant like this, they wouldn’t serve a single bad dish. She was bound to get something good.

Nothing as good and wicked as Conn. “So tell me about you.”

“What do you want to know, darlin’?”

“Everything.”

He talked about his family living in Texas, his mama, Miss Belle’s first-born daughter.

He had an older brother, Victor, and a younger sister, Vicki, all hell-bent and trouble according to him.

“If your mama is anything like Miss Belle, then I’m really not sure I want to meet her.”

Conn laughed, his fingers making lazy circles on her arm. “As a matter of fact, Mama is worse than Miss Belle. She inherited many of Colonel Healy’s more obnoxious bossy traits.”

Rae shuddered, thankful her possible in-laws lived so far away. “You’re still teaching at Drury, aren’t you?”

“Sure am. I’d like to be there until the day I die.”

“What are you doing this weekend?”

“A little fencing with a friend of mine. We make the Ren Faire circuit.”

“You fence? Like with swords?”

“It’s a hobby of mine.” He turned quiet, somber, the grooves in his face pronounced.

They ate quietly, Rae trying to enjoy the chicken despite the capers. “What’s wrong with your dish?”

“Nothing.”

“Rae, you’ve got to tell me if you’re not happy with something. Every time you take a bite, you frown. How can I take care of you if I don’t even know what you need?”

Her brain retorted that she didn’t need anybody to take care of her, but her heart melted.

“I don’t like capers. I should have read the menu closer.”

“My fault, darlin’. You let me order, remember? What else don’t you like?”

They talked about food while enjoying the incredible dinner, but tension wound higher, subtle at first, but more and more pronounced. She kept jumping every time he moved or spoke, unsure why she was so tense. Her nerves jangled, sensitive to the least signal from him.

Pushing his plate away, he stretched out his legs beneath the table, deliberately wide and sprawled so his thigh rubbed hers.

She moaned softly before she could silence it. The tension mounted, thick and oppressive, matching the darkening storm in his eyes.

Finally, he leaned over and breathed into her ear. “I think it’s time to give you that extra credit.”

Startled, she glanced around the restaurant, but nobody sat close enough to hear. The alcove was dark and made for lovers. Surely he wouldn’t— “What, here?”

“Yes, here.”

The waiter brought a thick slice of death-by-chocolate layered cake. Conn loaded the fork and fed her bite by bite, his eyes locked on her mouth. Every few bites, he put the empty fork in his mouth and licked it clean. His eyes blazed. From the chocolate? Or her taste?

She tried to quell the heat spreading through her. “Don’t I get to feed you?”

One corner of his mouth quirked. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Leaning down, he licked her neck, his teeth grazing her collarbone. Just a nibble, but she jolted with surprise just the same. He slid his arm behind her, his palm sliding hot down her right arm. His body heat seared her left side, back, and thigh. Sitting in public, she felt covered by him, possessed by his little touches and potent stares. It was odd, terrifying, and thrilling at the same time.

How far would he go? How far would she let him go? In public?

As she lifted the fork to his mouth, her hand shook. She put the empty fork in her mouth as he’d done, and he rumbled with approval. “Do you taste me, darlin’?”

Maybe it was her imagination, but she did taste just a hint of that sultry darkness of the mastery of his mouth. Shivers took hold deep in the pit of her stomach. Tightening her thighs together, she closed her eyes, trying to calm the roaring desire.

“Put the fork down.” He whispered the words against her ear, but she recognized it as an order. Silverware clattered against the dessert plate. He breathed deeply against her ear, his breath warm and moist. With his left hand, he slowly turned her head toward him.

Wildly, her gaze flickered about the room. Was anyone watching? Did she care?

Smoldering with heat, he stared deeply into her eyes, drowning her with his will, his control. Tension mounted, his gaze a physical touch sliding down to her mouth. Lazily, he let his gaze drop lower, and her breasts burned to feel his touch, to feel the heat of his mouth, the stroke of his tongue. Trembling, she made a soft noise, desperate and needy yet so afraid she’d embarrass herself.

His gaze worked back up to her mouth. Her lips fell open; she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t stop her tongue from wetting her lips in invitation, either. He lifted his gaze to hers and she sucked in a deep breath, bracing for attack.

Tilting her head just so, he slanted his mouth across hers. His tongue slid deep, conquering and claiming every inch of her. This was no little torment or play; this was total domination. His mouth took hers, his tongue thrusting like his body would, not fast, not unsure, but deep and steady, demanding thrusts which left her no defense. One, two, and she quivered, crying out softly into his mouth as climax roared through her. Her hands scrambled on the table, her body shaking against his. She finally got one hand under the table, her left, and reached for his groin.

He made a rough sound against her lips, his hips jerking, thrusting his erection firmly into her palm. God, he was big and hard, swelled against those black jeans. Her body tightened down all over again, aching to feel him sliding inside, claiming her as his mouth had just done.

Releasing her mouth, he bent his head and lightly kissed her shoulder. The waiter approached with their ticket, so Conn gently peeled her hand off him, placing a kiss in her palm. She could only sit there, panting quietly, trying not to rub herself all over him. She’d just climaxed in the middle of a busy restaurant. From a kiss. Had anybody noticed? Torn between embarrassment and need, she kept her gaze down.

Her hard nipples were very, very prominent against the thin white of the dress. She crossed her arms, hoping the waiter didn’t get an eyeful. Noticing her discomfort, Conn slipped his leather jacket around her shoulders. The coat was heavy around her, smelling incredibly of leather and him. Wrapped in that coat, she fought not to rub her face against it and see if she could come again.

She was going to burn him to a cinder, but he’d die a very happy man.

Dazed by his “extra credit”, Rae let him take her arm and guide her out of the restaurant.

It wasn’t wine that made her sway and cling to him, dizzy and weak-kneed. Just as it wasn’t wine that made him bend her back against the Mustang beneath his hips while he kissed her again, deep and hard, as deep and hard as he wanted to be inside her.

Conn pulled back despite her clutching hands and moan of desperation. Her body was soft and yielding as she arched into him. So turned on, she’d forgotten about their very public location on the busiest street in Joplin. Not too fast, he reminded himself. He had to give her a taste and back off. Let her think about it. Discuss her fears. He couldn’t barge his way into her body and mind and soul all in one day, no matter how much he wanted her.

Opening the passenger door, he helped her slide into the seat. She was shivering but he’d wager not from the cold. As soon as he sat down in the driver’s seat, she reached for him, half crawling over the console.

“I’m not taking you in my car, darlin’, no matter how much I want you right now. In fact, I’m taking you straight home to Miss Belle’s tonight.”

She moaned, shaking her head. “I want you too badly.”

He backed the car out and pulled into traffic before he drew her against his shoulder.

“I’m not rushing you, Rae.”

“How can you kiss me like that, and then take me home?”

Growling a curse beneath his breath, he shifted in the seat, uncomfortable in his jeans.

“It’s damned hard, darlin’, but I’m looking toward the long haul. Once you come into my bed, you’re not leaving it. Do you understand? I’m not a one night stand. Speaking of which, we need to discuss birth control before we’re hot and heavy and get stupid.”

“I’m on the pill. I always have been.” She shuddered against him. “Thank God I didn’t have kids with Richard. I don’t think I would’ve had the courage to escape him.”

Tightening his jaws, Conn fought the urge to swerve over to the shoulder and give her a punishingly deep kiss of possession again. “I’m going to want kids, darlin’. A whole passel of them.”

Her silence just about killed him. Raising her head, she pressed her mouth to his ear and whispered, “With you, it’s different. I don’t want kids right off, but in a couple of years, absolutely.”

“I’m clean.” His voice sounded thick and tight to his own ears. “I was tested after my last relationship two years ago and I haven’t been with anyone since.”

“The first thing I did after I kicked Richard out was go to the doctor. I’m clean too.” She breathed out slowly, tormenting him with the warmth and heat of her mouth. Her breasts pressed against his arm, and it was all he could do to keep from sliding his hand up beneath that sexy dress. “I don’t need you to use condoms, unless you just want to.”

Breathing hard, he forced his foot to ease off the accelerator before he broke a hundred miles an hour. He laughed raggedly. “I want nothing between us but skin, darlin’, but I’ll do whatever you want.”

“I want you. Preferably right now.”

She surprised and delighted him, a mixture of innocence and seduction, confident one moment and shy and vulnerable the next. “We have to deal with all your fears before I can drag you into such a commitment, darlin’.”

“Miss Belle’s contract had a thirty-day commitment.” She drew back, searching his face.

“We’re not waiting thirty days, are we?”

Conn groaned roughly. “Hell, I hope not. Are you trying to kill me? Thirty days? My brain would shut down from lack of blood by then. I’m not sure I’ll make it the week of Miss Belle’s bet.”

She laughed and settled back against his shoulder, her hand slowly wandering higher up his thigh. “I’d come home with you just so Miss Belle doesn’t win.”

“That might be her exact goal, darlin’. If there’s anything you should know about Miss Belle, she knows everything and she’s always right.” He captured Rae’s hand in his and very firmly tightened the reins on his control. “These next few days are like finals week. You’re going to put me through every test you can imagine, and I’m going to pass every single one for you. Whatever you need me to prove, do, or show, I will. However long it takes. I didn’t wait five years for nothing. I waited for you.”

She turned her face into his shoulder again, shaking. “I’m sorry.”

Damn, he hadn’t meant to imply any anger that she hadn’t waited for him. He didn’t want to punish her with guilt. “Shhh, Rae, I didn’t mean it like that. I dated too. I’ve been far from a monogamous saint these past years—that’s why I had myself tested. Nobody challenges and moves me like you. Nobody threatened to dissolve my control into frantic need on top of my desk like you. You’re worth the wait, however long it takes.” He kissed the top of her head, wry humor in his voice. “Just don’t take too long.”

The return trip passed much too quickly for Rae.

“Before I forget, I have a faculty thing tomorrow night. Actually, I’m getting an award.

Miss Belle is attending, and I’d be honored to have you as my date, darlin’.”

“I’d love to.”

He turned into Beulah Land’s driveway, and she wanted to cry. “You might change your mind when you see how boring the evening will be. A bunch of English professors getting together to talk Shakespeare and Shelley isn’t exactly a blockbuster movie, you know.”

She didn’t care. She’d sit and watch the paint dry, if he was there and asked her.

Burrowing deeper against his chest, she breathed in his scent, soaked in his heat, and cursed herself for being a coward. If she wasn’t afraid, then she could be in his bed tonight and every night.

Pulling over, he turned off the headlights and the engine. “Come here, darlin’.”

She went, crawling into his lap, straddling him in the bucket seat. It was tight in the car, too tight, which saved her. Even knowing it, she cursed the confines.

“Such language,” Conn laughed, his voice husky. “Whatever would Miss Belle say?”

“She’d probably say I deserved a spanking.”

His eyes gleamed in the darkness, his hands sliding up her hips beneath the dress.

“Would she, now? Not in my car, though. There’s not enough room for me to do it justice. I want you spread out on my lap, my hands on this gorgeous ass, and I want to see you, Rae. I want to watch the red spread across your skin. I want plenty of room to stroke you at the same time.”

Her heart pounded so loudly he surely must hear it. She squirmed on his lap. Feeling his erection beneath her only increased the torment.

“I’m going to find out what you’ve got under this dress, and then you’re going up to your room and I’m going home. To take a long cold shower. Where I’ll jerk off with the vision of you held across my lap and…” His fingers found the scrap of a thong she wore beneath the short, white dress. “These tiny panties down around your ankles.”

He stroked the thin strip running between her cheeks. “White?”

She nodded, her face burning, even while she felt the growing moisture between her thighs. “Compromise.”

“Indeed. Did you wear these for Dick?”

She shook her head, her face buried against his neck. “They came free in a pack and I never wore them. Until you.”

“Thank God. I don’t know which would bother me the most: knowing Miss Belle bought them for you to wear for me, or that Dick had seen you in them. Tell you what. How about I deliver a little package for you tomorrow?”

Laughing shakily, Rae nodded. Had Miss Belle bought sexy negligees or panties for her?

She hadn’t had time earlier to check all the bags. The crazy old lady would try her best to get her in them. Probably pink. Shuddering, she wiggled closer to him, her breath catching in her throat at the bulge in his jeans. His breath was hot on her neck, his fingers stroking and kneading her bared cheeks. She pressed her mouth to his ear, sucking on the lobe, and squirmed closer. Maybe the car wasn’t so small…

Somebody tapped on the window. Pulse slamming in her throat, she jerked upright. His hands were still beneath her dress; she was in his lap; the windows were so fogged up she couldn’t even see who was there.

Sick with dread, she thought she knew exactly who was there.

Muttering beneath his breath, Conn turned the key so he could lower the window.

“How’d you know we were here?”

Miss Belle humphed. “Do you think I wasn’t young and in love once, Verrill? Your mama was conceived right here in Colonel Healy’s Model T.” She jerked the door open and Rae half tumbled out. Miss Belle yanked her the rest of the way. “Come along, Rae Lynn, it’s time for bed, your bed, all alone. Good night, Verrill.”

“Good night. Grandma.”

Chapter Ten

Dear Dr. Connagher:

I keep dreaming the same thing, over and over, and I don’t need Freud to distill its meaning for me.

In the dream, I’m dressed in that white mini-skirt you hated and nothing else, gripping your poetry anthology tightly across my chest, not to hide my nakedness, but to gain passage from the fierce-eyed dragon guarding your door. (I was always a little afraid of the dean’s secretary.)

However, your door is closed. Defeated, I lean against the wood and close my eyes. I know you’re inside, but the closed door means no interruptions. I know better than to knock.

I don’t make a sound, but you know I’m there.

“Come in, Miss Jackson.”

Shivering with trepidation and longing, I open the door barely wide enough to slip inside your office. The blinds are shut in the window behind your desk, casting your face in shadow.

Gathering my nerve, I shut the door behind me. The sound of the lock clicking into place is shockingly loud.

I’m braced for you to tell me to leave or to order me to the dean’s office for interrupting, but you remain silent. It’s a test: You wait in that silence for my answer. As always, I feel this burning panic to blurt out the first thing that comes to my head, but this time, I know.

I know exactly how to ace this examination and I don’t need a blue book for my answer.

Giddy with confidence, I saunter over and set my book on top of your desk. The top is bare of clutter, shining and polished even in the gloom. Staring at that desk, I feel remembered fire spreading across my ass. I remember how cold the wood felt when you pressed me across it. But I’m not here for that this time. This time, I want something more.

Or rather, you want something more.

Even when I fumble your belt open and unzip your jeans, you remain silent. You’re hot steel in my hand, too thick for my fingers to meet, and even writing this now, I feel… It’s embarrassing, what you do to me. I’ve never enjoyed oral sex much in real life, but in this dream…with you…I hunger. I want you in my mouth, sliding down my throat deep enough to choke me. I tremble and ache with need, my lips wet with saliva, yet I can’t do it. Somehow, it’s not right for me to simply lean down and take what I want.

Heat floods my face and it’s not desire this time. Fear claws at my throat; tears burn in my eyes. I suddenly feel as panicked as if I’d walked into your class and learned you were giving an exam and I’d totally forgotten to study. All the confidence I’d felt earlier disappears and I want to wail, run from your office, and never see you again.

Then your hand settles on my head, heavy, your fingers tightening in my hair. It’s a subtle pain, just the faintest tug on my scalp, yet my anxiety simply melts away. Surety fills me again. You jerk me closer and I smell your scent of spiced leather, and deeper, musk and man, and I’m smiling when you fist your other hand in my hair, too.

The rest of the dream…well, you can imagine. It’s not very politically correct. I should feel…degraded. Shouldn’t I be mad at you, even though it’s just a dream?

But it’s my dream, so shouldn’t I be mad at myself? How can I, when I wake up in tears because I know it was just a dream? Every morning I lose you all over again.

During the day, I’ll be talking with a contractor or touching up some paint, and I’ll remember. I’ll remember what it felt like to be on my knees in your office with your hands fisted in my hair, demanding pleasure, taking what you want…

It’s only a dream, but the memory is enough to make me come again.

~ Rae

Walking into a faculty award ceremony on Conn’s arm was surreal. The tree-lined, old-world atmosphere of Drury campus welcomed Rae back. The tightening in her throat surprised her. She’d love to come back here and finish her degree. Someday.

Of course she’d wondered what it would be like if they were free to be a couple instead of professor and student. The first semester after she’d been in his class, they still would’ve had to be careful, she’d imagined, to ensure that no rumors or nastiness were ever attached to his career.

But eventually, she’d be able to openly date him. She’d be able to cheer for him when he won the favorite professor award again, nod at all his colleagues, and brag about what a great teacher he was.

If they only knew the half of it.

Miss Belle targeted the dean while Conn introduced her to his fellow teachers. They were all kind, teasing him about bringing someone they didn’t know, asking how long they’d been dating—the nosy yet honest questions of friends. Her chest felt heavy and she tightened her grip on his arm. Would she ever fit in with his colleagues? How could she? Returning to campus, she sank to the level of a tongue-tied student not a sophisticated woman who could help further his career.

Lord help her if they started talking shop. The only English class she’d taken outside the requirements to graduate was Conn’s.

They wandered through the reception, Conn introducing her as they went. No one shouted, “Student! Scandal!” In fact, everyone was perfectly welcoming.

Until she bumped into one of his current students.

Conn left to get them each a cup of coffee, and as soon as he was gone, the young woman approached. She was obviously a student, at least several years younger than Rae, and beautiful in a ripe, floozy sort of way. Okay, maybe that was rather harsh. Rae didn’t even know her yet and already felt an instant dislike.

Not exactly jealousy, because she didn’t think this girl would ever draw Conn’s eye, but she walked with intent, evil intent, right up to Rae.

“Who are you?” All righteous fury and indignant hurt, her attitude was rather ridiculous.

As though Conn had some claim on her affections. Again, Rae’s instincts said no. She couldn’t imagine him being attracted to this girl. It didn’t make sense.

Not when he was so obviously and openly attracted to her.

A warm, thick rush flooded her at the thought. He did want her, crazy or not, and this other woman was night and day different. She decided to keep it simple and polite. For all she knew, this girl was the dean’s daughter. “I’m Rae Jackson.” She couldn’t resist adding, “I’m with Dr. Connagher.”

“Oh, I know who you’re with alright. What I want to know is when you were his student.”

Rae arched a brow at the girl and didn’t volunteer anything.

“He always hooks up with a female student each semester. Everybody knows it. So what year were you?”

“I haven’t been on campus in years,” Rae replied stiffly. She didn’t believe it. She’d already asked Conn about his relationship with other students. She was the only student he’d been involved with, she knew it. She trusted him. This girl was just being nasty. But the worry nagged. What if people found out she’d been his student years ago? Would that hurt his reputation even more?

“No wonder he had me transferred to another class.” The girl sniffed with disdain and fluffed herself. “He had to get rid of me before he could bring you in.”

Rae wasn’t going to stand here and let this lying little cat smear his name. “You have a thing going with Dr. Connagher, do you?”

“Oh, yes. I’m his teacher’s pet this year, if you know what I mean.” She gushed, smiling prettily so a dimple appeared in her cheek. “We only had to wait another month or so, but you know him. He never keeps his girls after the semester is over.”

Rae felt ill. I don’t believe it—but what if other people do? “Does he contact you often outside of class?”

The girl leaned closer to whisper. “Every day. I’ve got his e-mails saved. Just in case, you know, I need the protection later.”

She trilled a metallic laugh that made Rae want to punch her. However, the knots in her stomach untangled. She laughed, too, hard and mean, not nice at all, but she couldn’t help it.

“You really don’t know much about him, do you?”

“What do you mean?” The girl turned her attention behind Rae and paled, her gaze darting side to side for escape. Rae edged closer, keeping her backed into the wall.

“If you really knew Dr. Connagher, then you wouldn’t have said anything about e-mail.

Take your story to the dean and she’ll laugh, too.”

“Is there a problem here?” Conn’s voice echoed with menace. He wrapped his arm around Rae’s shoulders, a sign of possession that even the silly twit would recognize.

“No, no,” she babbled, backing away.

“You’re not supposed to be at this event, Miss Barrak. Perhaps we need to speak to Dean Strobel again. I’m sure she could assign you some extra credit if you don’t have enough work to keep you busy.”

The girl whirled and ran away.

Conn sighed heavily, his mouth against Rae’s ear. “I need to see you in my office, Miss Jackson. Immediately.”

Chills crept down her spine. His voice was heavy, his hands hard, taking command as he led her out of the reception. Her heart pounded.

His office. He was taking her to his office. Her knees trembled so badly she could hardly manage the stairs.

“Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder, Rae.”

His office looked exactly like she remembered. Books lined the walls and were even stacked on the floor because the bookcases were overflowing. Despite the clutter everywhere else, the glossy cherry top of his desk was completely bare.

She remembered the cold press of that wood against her cheek, his arm heavy across her back, the sting of his palm…

Heart hammering, she twined her cold fingers together. She didn’t trust her voice. Did he think she believed that silly twit of a girl? Was he upset? Even though he wasn’t touching her, she could feel the heat and silent menace of his body behind her.

He shut the door. Frozen in place, she waited, blood rushing in her ears.

At the ominous click of the lock, she jumped like she’d been shot. Or slapped.

A sound escaped her throat that sounded rather distressingly like a squeak.

Still without touching her, he sat down behind his desk. Dear Lord above, he looked incredible: his dark suit somber against the crisp white shirt, his face chasmed with grooves between his eyes and the stark angles of his cheeks. She’d always loved his distinctive face and had stared endlessly during class, aching to map that unknown territory with her fingers and lips.

“Come here, darlin’.”

Surely it was a good sign that he wasn’t using formalities. Legs trembling, she edged around his desk, still gripping her hands together to hide the tremors. The long black skirt of the velvet dress Miss Belle had picked out for her clung to her legs, threatening to trip her, but she went. She couldn’t have refused him even if she wanted to.

“Are you afraid?”

Truth, always the truth with him. “A little.”

His voice remained easy, a low, soft rumble. Leaning back in his chair, he winked.

“Turned on, too, I dare say.”

Her fingertips were numb with cold, but sweat trickled down her back. If he’d touch her and kiss her like last night, then all the nerves would dissolve, but this reserved silence unnerved her. It was too much like those dreams that had tormented her for years.

She bit her lip, trying to decide whether she had to answer or not. She’d been tempted not to wear anything beneath the long dress so she could torment him about it, but in the end, she hadn’t had the courage. It’s a good thing, because she couldn’t imagine walking around so messy with no panties.

Silence stretched out. She hated it when he did that, waiting for her to answer.

Stubbornly, she clenched her teeth and refused to answer just to spite him, even though heat flared through her entire body. It was all she could do to stand still.

“I apologize for that nasty scene downstairs.”

She twitched with surprise, jerking her gaze up to his face. Only then did she realize she’d been staring at the black material stretched across his groin.

“Like what you see, darlin’?” His voice purred through her, his mouth quirking with amusement even while his eyes darkened. He reached out and fingered the flowing skirt that draped her hips. “I sure like what I see. All of this material covering your body makes me wonder what you might have on beneath.”

His breath sighed out and he leaned forward, slowly slipping his arms around her waist in a loose hug. “That student caused me so many problems that I didn’t get the chance to go shopping for you yet. I will tomorrow, darlin’, I promise.”

Unsure of his mood, she ran her fingers through the short dark hair at the base of his neck. He made another low noise, this one of pleasure. Drawing her closer, he pressed his cheek against the bodice of her dress and just held her.

It dawned on her that he was upset, tormenting himself about that student. She was suddenly furious at that girl for causing him such distress. “She’s not worth it.”

“I know, but I hate to fail, darlin’, even with students like her who couldn’t give a rat’s ass about learning something. I always have the hope that maybe I can show them something new that will grab their attention and change their opinion. I want to spark their motivation to do more than drink and party.”

His breath was hot and moist, soaking through the material to torment her breasts. While she hadn’t been brave enough to go commando, she couldn’t wear a bra with the low-cut back of this gown. “Was she right about the rumors?”

He pulled back enough to look up at her, his brow creased. “What rumors?”

“Am I going to cause problems for you because I was your student?”

“Darlin’, that was five years ago. Damn that little hussy for worrying you. The most important people I care about on campus already know I was tempted by you while you were in my class, and I protected us both as well as I could. Dean Strobel double-graded your work herself as a result to make sure I was completely fair in my treatment of you, and she didn’t have a single concern about our conduct. There aren’t going to be any rumors or problems about us, and Miss Barrak is already in a world of hurt with the dean. My colleagues have dealt with students like her before, and I’ve been very careful to make sure she can’t hurt me.”

“Do they—” She swallowed hard, searching his gaze. “Do they know what happened in here?”

“Of course not. You and I are the only ones who know what I did to you on my desk.

What I’m going to do to you now.”

Conn watched her reaction. Her gaze flickered down to his mouth briefly, and her eyes widened with anxiety. Her pulse thumped in her neck so strongly he could see it, and her body stiffened against him. Her nipples poked at the bodice of the dress, but she nearly took a step away from him.

Afraid, but aroused, and damned if the combination didn’t kill him. He liked a hint of fear

—if it was a fun sort of fear that knew deep down he’d never hurt her. He wanted her to respect his control and wonder exactly how far he’d go, because he was going to push and take as much as she’d give.

As long as she trusted him.

He tightened his hands slowly, watching her for any indication of real fear. “Miss Belle is a bloody genius.”

A startled laugh escaped Rae’s throat, breaking the rising tension in her trembling body.

“Why do you say that?”

“I can’t imagine two entirely different dresses than this black one and the white one you wore last night, but I honestly can’t tell which one I like better.” He molded his hands down her hips, following the fall of crushed velvet, then slowly smoothed his hands up the curves of her waist. “From the front, it’s very modest yet attractive, drawing my attention to the way the velvet hugs your body. It makes me want to drape my body over yours just like this dress.”

He allowed his voice to roughen on the last, although he waggled his eyebrows a little to make her laugh again.

“Then you turn around…” Tightening his grip on her hips, he told her to turn with the silent command of his body. After what happened the last time he’d turned her away from him right here before his desk, this was a tough test.

Braced for her refusal, he would release her immediately.

Stiffly, she let him turn her around but he could hear her breath rasping in the room.

“You turn around, and I see the expanse of your lovely back, bare, vulnerable, and open.” Lightly, he walked his fingertips up her spine. “You hair is pulled up to make sure every naked inch is visible, tormenting me with the thought of kissing every bump of your spine.”

He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her skin. She shivered, her breath still shaky and loud, but the sharper edge of fear softened. Kissing a slow, wet path down her back, he applied gentle pressure to her shoulders, urging her to lie down on his desk.

Her face touched the wood and she cried out, tension trembling through her.

“Shhh, darlin’. I’m going to make sure you never dread coming to my office again. I’m going to give you a new dream to keep you up at night, a dream right here on my desk.”

Without lifting his mouth, he scooted his chair closer. He was extremely careful not to hold her down this time. If she wanted to get up, she could.

Her skin felt like rose petals, the sweet feminine taste of her as delicate. He lingered in the hollow of her back with long, lazy swipes of his tongue, while he tormented himself with the vision of her fully naked and stretched out on top of his desk. She could put her whole luscious body on the cherry top and he could roll his chair from head to toe and taste every inch.

“Conn?”

He smiled against her. “Darlin’?”

“Can I make a request?”

Ah, she had his full attention. “Absolutely. What do you want, darlin’?”

“I didn’t know,” she whispered, her voice achingly shy, “if you would let me ask for things…” She shrugged her shoulders, tucking her face against her biceps.

Sitting back up, he rolled her over and sat her on the edge of his desk so he could see her face. This conversation was too important for there to be any misunderstandings later. “Rae, if you want me to do something, ask. I love you, darlin’. I want to make you happy no matter what it is. I especially want to know your deepest darkest fantasies and how best to turn you on. I want you shivering and crying out your pleasure, not silent and afraid to make a request.”

She searched his face, her eyes solemn, her fingers aimlessly plucking at the lapels of his tuxedo. “You said you liked control. I thought that meant… control.” She frowned and gave a frustrated jerk of her head. “What does that mean, really? What do you expect of me? When can I—”

“Let me make myself very clear.” He leaned forward, holding her gaze. “I’m arrogant and just a tad bossy.”

Her mouth quirked.

“There will be times when you want to smack me. Do so. Then we’ll have fun wrestling and I might get to smack your bottom myself. There will definitely be times when we make love quick and hard and furious, because I swear, darlin’, I’m gonna die if I don’t get inside you soon. But sometimes I’ll simply lie on my back and let you do whatever you wish to your little heart’s desire. And yes, someday I want to tie you to my bed and torment you until you beg and scream, and I want to turn you over my knee and fire up your ass, too.”

She sucked in a shaky breath, her hands tightening on his coat. Her eyes gleamed, luminous and dark, her mouth soft with desire. Slowly, he leaned in closer until his lips hovered over hers.

“Whatever we’re doing, I promise I’ll stop the moment you tell me to, and if you ever need me to do something else, I’ll do it. Immediately. Because I want to be everything you could possibly need. So tell me, darlin’, what were you going to ask me to do?”

She smiled wobbily. “I was going to ask if you could hold me down a little without spanking me, but I kind of like being up here, too, where I can see you.”

“Hell yeah, I can do that, darlin’,” he drawled, dropping his gaze to the swell of her breasts modestly covered by the gown. “We’ll start with a little light bondage to make sure you like it, but I think being tied up will drive you wild. God knows the thought is driving me wild.”

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’m just—I’m not sure about the other.”

“No rush, darlin’.” He trailed his fingers across her cheek and down her neck. “I have something else in mind you might like.”

Her voice caught on a moan as he tugged at the long sleeves of the dress. “It’s not that I don’t think I’ll like it…”

Bit by bit, he worked the velvet lower until the edge slipped off her shoulders and dropped past her breasts. “I know, darlin’. You’re afraid you’ll like it too much.”

The sight of her perfect breasts sent a knife thrust of need through his belly. He took a firm grip on himself, lightly stroking his fingers up and down her neck and shoulders, breathing deeply, until he could trust himself to remain fully in control.

Speaking of which—

He slid his palms down her arms and took her hands down to the desk. Leaning forward, he pinned her hands firmly beneath his while he breathed on her swollen nipple. She shifted her fingers, lifting against his hold to test his grip.

She moaned low and deep in her throat, a purr of pleasure that made him smile. He hadn’t touched her intimately yet; it was his control, the act of being held down, that turned her on. Flicking his tongue out, he grazed a wet circle about her areola. She jerked harder beneath his hands, unable to stop the helpless little struggles.

Every jerk and cry aroused him more.

Leaning back, she offered her breasts for more attention. Licking and sucking, he nibbled from one to the other, even grazing with his teeth. The rougher he got, the more she cried out, squirming against him, working her thighs around his waist to grip him close. Carefully, he gripped the full curve of her breast with his teeth and slowly tightened his jaws. Small pain only, enough to flavor the pleasure of his touch, while she ground against him.

She strained harder, a dam swelling against a cresting flood, and then she gave, trembling with the force of her climax.

Releasing her breast, he licked the indentations his teeth had left in her tender flesh.

“Shhh, darlin’. I don’t think anybody’s up here, but we need to be careful.”

“Please,” she gasped, arching against him.

“What do you want?”

“I want to take you into my mouth.”

Locking down hard on the violent surge pulsing in him, Conn let go of her hands and sat back. Eager, she slid off the desk into his lap, her hands sliding down his chest.

“No.” Her fingers brushed the front of his trousers, and he quickly snagged her hand and jerked it away. “Not yet.”

“Why not?” Breathing hard, she searched his face. “You’ve given me pleasure. I want to touch you, too. Aren’t you…hurting?”

“Yeah.” Jaws tight, he ran a hand through his hair. Hurting wasn’t enough to describe the heavy ache burning like a fist of fire against his spine. “But you’re not ready to go there yet.”

Her gaze dropped and she slid off his lap, tugging up the bodice of her dress.

Damn it, he hadn’t meant to hurt her or make her feel rejected. He caught her right hand and kissed her knuckles and the tips of her fingers until she lifted her gaze back to his.

“A blow job is my trigger, my ultimate act of domination. It’s like a switch that gets flipped in me, like what happens to you when I hold you down. Did you feel that change as soon as I took away your freedom? It’s the same for me when I think about you putting your mouth on me. I don’t want you to expect vanilla oral play and I suddenly become extremely dominant, scaring you worse than I did before.”

He touched her lips lightly and allowed his voice to rumble with the aggression he felt.

“I’ve fantasized about your luscious mouth for years. I want you more than I can ever say, in every way possible, but thrusting into your mouth with your full submission is my ultimate fantasy. But not until you’re absolutely ready and trust me without question. That’s a very intimate, vulnerable position, and if you don’t understand what I’m doing, and what you’re feeling, then it’ll be a nightmare and not pleasure, for both of us. You can’t give me what I want if you’re afraid.”

“I’m not afraid of touching you. I want to give you pleasure.”

“I know, darlin’, but there’s a huge difference between you sucking me off while I sit here passively, and what I really want to do.”

“What do you really want to do?”

He hesitated, searching her gaze. She was confused, but not afraid. If he admitted this fantasy, would it only scare her more? Wrapping his hands tightly on the arms of his chair, he growled out, “I don’t want you to give me pleasure; I want to take it. I want to fist my hands in your hair, push you to your knees on the floor, and thrust into your mouth, hard and deep until…”

He shuddered and closed his eyes, fighting the raging desire threatening to weaken his control. “If you’re not prepared, if you don’t want the same level of force, it could be very bad, darlin’. You may welcome a little force, like when I held you down just now, but I don’t want to ever force you into doing something you don’t want to do. I’d rather never live out that dream than scare you again.”

Silence stretched out, leaving him furious at himself and this vicious need. Why couldn’t he play safe, like Dick? Safe…and a fucking bore of a moron. He couldn’t help what he was, but he wanted to rage and pound the walls to rubble at the thought of losing her.

Lightly, her hands cupped his cheeks. Startled, he jerked his eyes open. She leaned over him, so lovely and innocent he wanted to roar his pain like a mindless beast.

“I’ve dreamed about it too, many times. I’d go on my knees for you.”

The fist threatened to bust its way through his gut, matching the fierce surge of relief in his heart. He breathed deeply, slowly, waiting for the pulse to ease. “We’ve got plenty of time.

I refuse to rush you, darlin’, not with this.”

His body protested, but he forced himself to help her fix the bodice of her dress, when what he really wanted to do was throw her onto his desk and bury himself between her thighs.

Every muscle in his body strummed with need. “I’ll be honest, Rae. I’m walking a fine line right now. I’ve never been so close to losing control. I still want you to push me. Test me as hard as you can, whatever you need. I don’t have any regrets. But damn it all to hell, this is killing me.”

A slow, sexy smile curved her lips. “Five years ago, I thought your final was going to kill me.”

“Payback’s a bitch.”

Chapter Eleven

Enthusiastic clapping followed Conn’s speech. Dean Strobel presented his award as Drury’s favorite teacher for the fourth year in a row. His colleagues crowded around him, slapping him on the back, laughing, snapping pictures.

Miss Belle dabbed a hanky delicately at her eyes. “I’m so proud.”

Blinking back tears herself, Rae smiled and let the old lady take her hand. Conn made his way to them. Joy bubbled up inside her as his eyes locked on hers, heating and sparking.

“Congratulations,” she whispered, unsure how much celebration he’d think appropriate.

He surprised her by gathering her close and planting a big noisy kiss on her mouth.

Dean Strobel made a rueful sound as she joined them. “Miss Belle, I do believe your grandson is finally settling down.”

Conn kept his arm around her waist, drawing her against the heat of his body. “Dean Strobel, let me introduce you to Rae Jackson.”

From her memories of her college years, Rae braced for a grim and reserved welcome.

The dean shocked her with a warm smile, actually taking her hand between both of hers. “I’m so glad to finally meet you, Rae.” She tugged Rae closer, bending down to whisper loudly in her ear. “You made him work harder than any student here at Drury, so keep him on his toes.”

“I wager our boy worked her just as hard.” Miss Belle arched her brow at Conn, a wicked smile curving her lips. “Nothing would make me prouder right now except a dozen grandchildren running around.”

Heat seared Rae’s cheeks.

“He’s got it bad,” Dean Strobel agreed, releasing Rae. “I watched you both like a hawk.”

Rae resisted the urge to bury her face in Conn’s chest. What if the dean had caught them that last day of finals? Or just now? What if she asked why Rae had left college, or worse, why it had taken so long for her to come back? Her head pounded until she felt sick.

“We were both very good, Dean.” Conn laughed and tightened his arm around her.

“Very good indeed.”

Rae dug her thumb into his side, grating on a rib hard enough he grunted softly.

“Knowing you, Verrill, I seriously doubt that,” Miss Belle sniffed loudly. “You obviously did something horrific to scare her away for so long.”

Rae turned toward him, clutching a handful of his shirt beneath the coat. Her face felt crisped to a cinder. How much did they know?

“Yes, horrific.” Conn’s voice softened and he wrapped his other arm around her so he held her protectively. “Don’t worry, though, Miss Belle—she’s definitely making me suffer for my indiscretion.”

“Ha,” Miss Belle said. “She needs my parasol to do it justice. It’ll be my wedding present to the both of you.”

Wrapped tight against him, Rae felt the vibration of his cell phone. She stepped back and Conn pulled it out to check the number. The furrow between his eyes warned her immediately that something might be wrong. “Excuse me a moment.”

He stepped aside, his voice low. All she caught was, “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

“Mason?” Dean Strobel asked softly, her brown eyes concerned.

“Yeah. You know what tonight is.”

“Oh dear. That poor man.” Miss Belle dabbed at her eyes with the hanky, and this time, Rae thought she might have actually seen a little suspicious moisture.

“Sorry to have to take my award and run,” Conn started to apologize, but Dean Strobel waved him toward the exit. “I’ll make sure he gets to class tomorrow.”

“You’re a good friend, Conn.”

They left quickly, Conn’s face still grim.

“Conn, you drive. Rae Lynn, take the front. I’ll sit in the back so I can talk with your friend.”

“He’s not going to want to talk about it.” He slid behind the wheel, his voice short and clipped. “Frankly, he’s scared of you. After he sobers up, he’ll be embarrassed that you saw him this way.”

“So he should,” Miss Belle replied tartly. “Why don’t you tell us what you know so I can help him.”

Conn reached over and took Rae’s hand, his thumb brushing back and forth on her knuckles. “Mason teaches mathematics and while he’s a little nerdy,” he arched a brow at her, daring her to say he was, too, “he’s been my best friend since I moved here from Texas. He married the love of his life shortly after I moved here, and I was his best man. Julie worked for the state patrol, cruising I-44 mainly to catch the drug trade moving up to St. Louis. It’s a dangerous line of work, and Mason wanted her to quit. He made a comfortable living, he loved her, and he wanted her to be Mrs. Susie Housewife with a passel of children. But Julie loved her job, and she felt a calling to serve the community.

“They fought about it a lot: Mason pressured her; Julie felt defensive. I stayed out of it but listened to them both. They’d certainly been there for me when I went through a rough patch.”

Rae knew exactly what he meant. He’d gone to them for comfort after she’d left college and never returned. Her heart ached. She’d hurt him, but she’d been hurt too, and she hadn’t had anyone to talk to. That’s why she’d written him so many letters.

“Right before Julie left for work one night, they had a particularly nasty fight. Just a few hours later, she was killed on a routine traffic stop. She’d stopped to help a family in a stalled vehicle, and a passing car struck her.” His voice tightened along with his fingers. “Mason fell apart. His worst fear had happened, and I think he felt guilty. Their last moments had been an ugly fight, and he could never take back the hurtful words.”

Conn parked the car in front of Dooley’s, an old-fashioned pub where graduate students and professors usually hung out. “I’ll be right back.”

Sitting in the dark, Rae thought she heard whispering from the back seat. She shifted in the leather seat as quietly as possible. Miss Belle leaned to the side, whispering quietly as though she had someone sitting right beside her.

Chills raced down Rae’s spine. She opened her mouth to ask if the old lady was okay, but the back car door opened.

“It’s going to be okay, Mason. I’ll take you home and you can sleep it off.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you had company. I wondered why you weren’t in your Mustang.”

Looking from Miss Belle to Rae in the front, the man straightened, visibly trying to bring himself together for the ladies in the car. “Oh hell, that’s why you’re dressed up. I forgot about the award! Damn it, Conn, why didn’t you tell me to buzz off when I called?”

His voice was slurred and thick, but Rae suspected he was more upset than drunk, although the fumes of alcohol definitely wafted into the car.

“You’re more important than an award. Of course I came when you called.”

“I shouldn’t have called,” Mason muttered, swiping a hand across his face wearily. He let Conn help him into the back seat. “You’re too good a friend.”

“You should always call. That’s what friends are for.” Conn hurried around the car and slid into the driver’s seat. “Don’t you remember how many times I called you in the middle of the night, and what did you always tell me?”

“It’s going to get better,” he whispered. His gaze locked on Rae, sharpening with interest despite his condition. Then his eyes swam with tears and he shuddered, closing his eyes. “But your love didn’t die.”

“Mason Wykes.” Even Rae flinched at the intensity in Miss Belle’s voice. Reluctantly, Mason looked up at the old lady beside him. “Your love has been very patient with you, but now it’s time to let her go.”

The hair on the back of Rae’s neck stood straight up. The old lady’s voice was hollow and distant, and the temperature inside the car plummeted at least ten degrees.

“Why are you being so selfish?”

Mason spluttered, but Miss Belle pushed onward with the strength and determination of a cavalry charge.

“She’s waiting for you to accept her death before she can leave. She lingers with you, unable to move on, mourning your grief. She hates what you’re doing to yourself. She rails at you, but you can’t hear. You’re blind and deaf to everything but yourself. Until you fix the breach in your heart and accept her passing, she cannot rest in peace.”

Despite the harsh reality in the old lady’s words, her eyes were kind and she patted Mason’s shaking hand.

“She’s here with us, right this very moment, and she says she needs you to forgive yourself. Her death was not your fault.”

Shoulders shaking and hands fisted, Mason made a low growling moan through clenched teeth. “It is my fault. We argued all the time about her job, and that night… She said she was leaving me.”

Conn shifted, drawing Rae’s attention. The muscles in his cheeks flexed, but his fingers were gentle on hers. He must not have known the extent of his friend’s marital problems.

“She’s laughing. She said to tell you that not even your mumblings about Runge Kutta could make her leave, whatever that means.”

Mason choked back a laugh and tears ran freely down his cheeks. “A joke she always made. My doctorate thesis was on different methods of numerical analysis. She’s here? Truly?”

“Yes,” Miss Belle answered softly. “She says she would never have left you in a million years. Those words were spoken in anger. Even now, she’s still here with you, waiting until you can say goodbye. Don’t you want her to have the peace she deserves? She’ll wait for you on the other side, but you’ve got to let her go.”

“How?” Mason’s voice broke. “How do I say goodbye to someone when losing her ripped my heart out of my chest?”

“What’s the number one thing you want to say to her?”

Pressure built in the car, the air thick and cold. Shivering, Rae, held onto Conn’s hand and tried to tell herself nothing odd was happening. He turned off the tree-lined side street into a driveway of a modest-sized family home, and parked. Nobody moved.

“Tell her, Mason,” Miss Belle urged. “Now’s the time to say what you didn’t say to her that night. This is your last chance to make things right.”

Chills erupted down Rae’s arms at the words of her motto. What if Conn had died in an accident before she’d ever had the chance to explain why she’d run? If she’d never had the chance to kiss him and feel his strength wrapped around her? Her throat hurt and tears burned her eyes.

“I’ll always love you, Julie,” Mason whispered. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry about everything.”

“She loves you, too, and she wants you to let her go. She wants you to live. Put away your grief, especially your guilt, and live again, Mason.”

“Julie,” Mason whispered, his ragged voice shaking in the silence. “I love you, baby.

Goodbye.”

The last word hung on the air, vibrating, and the tension suddenly popped. Rae jumped, and Conn’s hand tightened convulsively on hers.

Miss Belle’s voice sounded tired. “Help him to bed, Conn.”

Muttering and crying, although he’d surely deny it later, Mason proved to be a handful for Conn to wrestle out of the car. His friend was never going to forget that people had seen him like this, falling down drunk and morose. Conn finally got him up out of the car and headed for the house. Mason stumbled into him and they both nearly went down in a heap.

Rae appeared, taking Mason’s other arm and hauling some of his weight up across her shoulders.

“Thank you, kind lady.” Mason stared at her like he’d never seen her before. “You’re Conn’s Rae, right?”

She shot a wry glance at Conn. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Conn’s Rae. He liked the sound of that.

Huffing and puffing, they struggled to get him up the steps. Conn propped his friend up against the wall and dug in his coat pockets to find his keys.

Mason squealed like a little girl and squirmed against her. “Sorry, ticklish,” he gasped out, laughing. “Don’t bother. It’s not locked.”

Conn tested the door handle. “Son of a bitch. Why not hang a ‘Come on in’ sign for all the burglars in the neighborhood?”

He pushed the door open and heaved Mason back up from the wall.

“Nothing to steal. Anyway, I don’t care.” His voice caught and a shudder went through him. “I haven’t cared in a long time, have I?”

“You care about a lot of things, buddy. You care about your students, and you certainly care about me.”

“I don’t give a damn about you,” Mason muttered, but he rubbed his eyes and sagged against him.

“The hell you don’t. Why else do you drag yourself out of bed at six a.m. to bang swords with me?”

“Because I’m a geek who loves the Renaissance Period almost as much as differential equations.”

Instead of dragging him up the flight of stairs, Conn chose the couch in the den. He knew Mason often slept there because he couldn’t bear the memories. He’d threatened to light up the whole place and burn it to the ground, but Conn knew the memories would still eat him up.

“Speaking of the Renaissance, did you know that only the Bible has more editions than Euclid’s Elements? I love the simplicity of his geometry.”

Laughing, Conn tugged Mason’s shoes off. “Did you finish grading your midterms, Dr.

Wykes?”

“Oh God, no. I should have the grades ready for the students tomorrow, too.”

With a groan, Conn shot a rueful gaze at Rae. He’d hoped to ask her to the cottage after dinner tonight, but if he had to grade calculus midterms, he’d be up half the night. “How many do you have left to grade?”

“Just a few, probably twenty or so. You don’t have to grade them, Conn, really. I’ll get up early in the morning and finish.”

By his muddled words, Mason was already half asleep. “You’re going to be lucky to make it to class at all in the morning. What time’s your first class?”

“Mmm, nine o’clock. Plenty of time. I’ll just—” A snore escaped.

“I’ll call you, okay? Just to make sure you’re up.”

The lucky bastard didn’t make a response other than deeper breathing. It was going to take Conn at least three times as long to finish those blasted tests, assuming he understood the answer key. Digging around on the cluttered coffee table, he found the stack of tests.

Shit, twenty my ass. Aloud, he muttered, “I’m going to be up all night.”

Mason stirred and tried to lift his head but fell back against the cushion. “You’re a good friend.” Then he lapsed back into la-la-land.

“You are a good friend,” Rae whispered.

Raising his gaze to her face, he felt his heart stutter and die in his chest. He loved her more than he’d ever thought possible. She’d only been back in his life for a few days, but it didn’t matter. He wanted her more than anything he’d ever wanted in his entire life. If he lost her…

Mason was an oak compared to how he’d react if he lost her again.

“I wish—” She sighed, turning her face aside.

No hiding, not from him. He strode over and gently turned her face back to him. He kept his fingers on her face, gentle but firm, stroking over her cheek until she spoke again.

“I wish I’d called you. I mean, before, when I was scared. I was afraid to hear your voice, afraid you’d talk me into doing something I wasn’t ready for, but now…” Her delicate face strained beneath his fingers with regret.

“Anyplace, anytime, you call me, Rae. I’ll be there for you. I swear it.” He drew her against him, offering the shelter of his body and the strength of his embrace. “I won’t ever coerce you into something. If you’re in doubt, scared, or in trouble, call me. I’d do anything for Mason, but for you…”

His voice trembled with emotion. She wrapped her arms tighter around his waist and tried to lighten the mood. “Slay dragons? Endure torture? Walk the plank?”

Keeping his face somber, he said, “I’d even surf the net.”

“My God,” Mason said, pushing up on his elbows. “You do love her. You won’t even read my e-mail.”

“No, but I’ll grade your calculus tests, so we’re even.”

“Get out of here and let me get some sleep.”

“You’ve been asleep twice already.”

Mason grouched, rolling over onto his side and throwing his arm up over his head. “If you two love birds would leave me alone, I’d stay asleep. Call me around eight a.m.”

“Will do.” Conn headed for the door, his arm around Rae.

“Conn?”

He paused, looking back over his shoulder, but Mason hadn’t raised up again.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, Mason. Anytime.”

Chapter Twelve

Dear Dr. Connagher:

I’m feeling rather beaten down today. So of course I felt like I should write to you.

On our first anniversary, Richard gave me a puppy, a cute little miniature poodle mix I named Buddy. I adored the little dog. He went everywhere with me during the day, hanging around at Daddy’s office, riding in the truck with me to jobsites. He was always perfectly mannered for me.

Until Richard came home.

Buddy recognized what kind of man he was, much quicker than I did. He growled at Richard whenever he raised his voice. He chewed on only Richard’s shoes. He started marking the house. I think Buddy was trying to protect me, but Richard saw only the mess. He took everything so personally, and his temper…

I started to fear for Buddy’s life. I couldn’t protect him twenty-four/seven. I put him in the kennel more when Richard was home, but that’s no life for a dog. I couldn’t put him outside—he’s an indoor dog. He wanted to be with me, his family.

We fought over Buddy more and more. Richard couldn’t stand that I loved a dog more than him.

This shames me, Conn, but I let Buddy go. I let Richard take him to the local vet clinic and they found a new home for him. I tried to tell myself it was the best thing all around for Buddy, and I’m sure he is happy. He’s safe. Safe from Richard. Safer than me.

I should have fought for my dog. But how could I, when I don’t fight for myself?

If Richard only knew…how much more I loved you.

~ Rae

Rae ripped up another section of shingle and tossed it to the bin below. The crew was making good time, but of course, she never called in anyone but the best. Randy swore he’d get the roof done today, as long as they didn’t find rotted plywood underneath. So far, so good. In fact, the shingles were in excellent shape.

She gripped the asphalt tile in both gloved hands and twisted it. Still very strong, barely a few years old, she guessed. Strong winds likely pulled them up, and rather recently since there wasn’t any water damage.

“Oh, yeah, we’ll be done by lunch, Rae.” Randy walked across the slanted roof as easily as a monkey in a tree. “The only damage is here on the front of the house.”

“Right where we’d see it.” Rae mused. She had a nasty feeling that maybe a ghostly wind had done this damage. Was that possible? After last night… Goose bumps crawled down her arms despite the sweat dampening her brow. “Do you know if there were any bad storms in the last few weeks?”

“I’ve been on Taneycomo fishing every single day I wasn’t on a roof.”

“Let me know if you find any bigger issues, and I guess I’ll be thankful the job is small.”

She climbed down the ladder and went in search of the electrician. She found Don in the basement putting his tools away. “Done already?”

“Sorry to disappoint you.” The man laughed. “For an old house, the wires are in excellent shape. Most old houses are shot all to hell and are on the verge of burning themselves down, but this old gal is in tiptop shape. Somebody good came through here ten or twenty years ago and cleaned all the old wiring up.”

“I saw lights dimming and flickering upstairs.”

Don shrugged. “Might have been a power surge. Honestly, Rae, as much as I’d love to hand you a five- or ten-grand bill, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with your wiring.”

“Okay, thanks, Don.” She shook his hand, her mind whirling. The house was in tiptop shape with no electric problems and only minor roofing issues. So had the old lady gotten a bee in her bonnet and decided to spend forty grand a year on a fricking koi pond?

Or had Miss Belle known exactly who she was when she called about a restoration job?

Grim-faced, Rae went outside and around the house to track down the plumber. He was loading up his truck in the driveway. “Don’t tell me. Not a thing wrong?”

“Nope. The toilets don’t even run too long, and not a single faucet leaks.”

“The pipes groaned and rattled in the walls.”

“Maybe it was a ghost.” The plumber laughed but straightened up when he saw the look on her face. “Sorry, but I gave the pipes a thorough check. I expected asbestos problems on the old lead pipes in the basement, or a leak, or something. But the house was completely renovated…oh…”

“Ten or twenty years ago?”

“Sure enough. The pipes have definitely seen some action, but they’re in fine shape.”

Rae waved as he drove off, but her jaws ached from grinding her teeth. Damn that old biddy. She’d been duped, trapped, bought and paid for, long before she’d driven onto Beulah Land. Anger pulsed through her, but no matter how irritated and betrayed Rae felt, she couldn’t stay mad at the old lady.

Not when Miss Belle had brought her back to Conn.

That didn’t mean Rae wasn’t going to give the crazy old harridan a piece of her mind as soon as she tracked her down. She headed for the house and saw Conn pulling his sleek black car around in front. She walked over to the driver’s side as he rolled down the window.

“I saw the plumber on the way out. Was his estimate that bad?”

“What estimates? There’s nothing to be done. Nothing! The house is in perfect shape. A major renovation was done ten to twenty years ago. Other than a few cosmetic things, Miss Belle doesn’t need me here. She certainly doesn’t need to pay me such a ridiculous salary and hire me as a property manager.”

“She loves me, Rae.” Understanding gleamed in his eyes. “Don’t let her fool you one minute into believing she’s just a crackpot. Miss Belle is one formidable lady, and when she makes up her mind to do something, she does it, come hell or high water.”

She certainly knew where Conn got that attitude from. Lord help her if his mama was even worse as he said. The scope of what Miss Belle had pulled off was astounding. Did she really intend to open a B&B just to lure her grandson’s long-lost love home? The thought both appalled her and made her want to burst into tears and hug the old lady. “Why did she track me down five years after the fact?”

“A few months ago, I had a job offer to move back to Texas. They offered me a nice position at Rice University in Houston. Mama was really pressuring me to come home.”

“Why didn’t you go?”

“I like it here.” He shrugged, a sheepish gesture that tugged at her heart. “And honestly, I still hoped I would find you. When I admitted as much to Miss Belle, she must have taken matters into her own hands. Don’t be angry, darlin’. Be thankful you weren’t an astronaut because then she’d have set out to run NASA single-handedly.”

Laughing softly, Rae stroked his cheek. “You didn’t shave today.”

“Thanks to Mason’s calculus exams he forgot to grade, I didn’t get a wink of sleep until dawn this morning. Since I wanted to get some shopping done before tackling my own grading stacks, I skipped it.”

He rubbed his grizzly face against her hand, darkness creeping into his eyes. The shadow on his cheeks gave him an even more dangerous appeal. Rough abrading whiskers, still oddly soft against her palm, made her think of other sensations, other locations…

“Put your thumb in my mouth.”

Clenching her thighs together at the thought, she slowly did as he ordered. The wet heat of his mouth closed around her thumb, while her fingers stroked over the rough texture of his cheek. Eyes blazing, he sucked and licked and nibbled her thumb until she was on the verge of climaxing again.

With a seductive little slurp, he let her go. “I’m going to do that between your thighs tonight.”

She gripped the car door to keep from melting into a heap on the driveway. “You think so?”

“I know so, darlin’. Assuming we can escape Miss Belle. Pop quiz.”

Groaning, Rae leaned down and braced her arms on the door. If she was close, maybe she’d get a kiss before he left. “Mercy, Dr. Connagher! I haven’t had time to study yet.”

“This one’s easy.” He retrieved a flat white box marked Victoria’s Secret, let her get a good look at it, but didn’t hand it to her. Then he tossed her white purse on top of the box.

“You forgot something in my car the other night, too.”

Stupid purse. That’s why she never carried one. She hadn’t even realized it was gone.

She thought about him walking into that famous store, racks and racks of slinky sexy bras and underwear. What on earth might he have picked out? Had his eyes darkened, the grooves between his eyes deepened, while he pictured her in each one?

“Tell me what color these items in the box are, and you can have dinner at my place tonight. I swear I’m a better cook than Miss Belle. Otherwise, we’ll dine a la charred with her and you have to give me the letters you said you wrote to me.”

Rolling her eyes, Rae replied, “White.”

“Wrong.” He pushed the box into her hands so she had to stand up. Winking, he put the Mustang into gear and drove away.

No kiss. No dinner at his place. And then it hit her. The letters.

Bastard. He’d deliberately set her up.

She trudged inside and up to her guest room. Flopping onto the bed, she set the purse beside her and opened the box, her stomach fluttering with anxiety. Exactly what did he expect her to wear?

The box was stuffed with scraps of silk and lace in all colors. At the very bottom, she found the white she’d dreaded. She knew this was the pair he’d deliberately gone to get for her.

At first glance, they weren’t too risqué: hipsters nearly cut like boxer shorts. However, they were made of lace, and she suddenly realized they didn’t have a crotch. Red faced, she noticed a note at the bottom of the box.

Rae:

The only correct answer would be your favorite color. Since I didn’t know what that was, you got everything that caught my eye. My message to you: It’s not all about my preferences. I want to make you happy. Wear your favorite color tonight and bring the letters.

~ Conn.

Damn it. Now she was crying, too.

Grabbing a tissue, she wiped her face and dragged out her old school laptop. The thing was a dinosaur, but it still ran fine as long as she stayed off the internet. She couldn’t print the letters; she couldn’t e-mail them to him, even if he would deign to read them online. Digging through the box, she found an old CD. Crossing her fingers that the burner still worked—it did

—she copied every letter she’d written to him without re-reading them. She didn’t have to.

Those words were engraved on her heart.

They told of every miserable moment, mistake, and guilty confession of erotic dreams she’d committed with him. Smiling through the tears, she decided he probably wouldn’t get much sleep tonight, either.

She slid the CD into the purse and hoped she remembered to take it tonight.

***

As soon as Conn stepped inside Beulah Land, the stench nearly knocked him down. He didn’t have to ask what the horrid smell was. His stomach heaved.

Miss Belle was cooking.

Rae shut the door behind him and then stepped into his arms to bury her face against his chest. A hug, or did she merely need to block out the smell? “She won’t let me help.”

He pressed his face against her shoulder bared by the spaghetti straps of the simple silk sheath dress. “Good Lord. Do you think she’ll let me sit like this at the table?”

Laughing softly, she tightened her fingers at the base of his neck. “Your hair is still damp.”

Had she noticed that he’d deliberately neglected to shave as well? He had a promise to uphold after all. “After grading Mason’s exams all night, I had to finish up mine this afternoon.

I barely had time to shower before driving over.”

“You smell good, but I wouldn’t have minded either way.”

He straightened and took her hand, leading her to the stairs. “Did I show you my old room yet?”

“You had a room here?” A loud clang from the kitchen drew her gaze, and Miss Belle’s sharp muttering drifted out. “I really think she needs some help.”

“Trust me, darlin’, you don’t want to be in there with her right now without a Haz-Mat suit. I used to come up and stay for weeks at a time in the summer. All us kids did. Come on, I’ll show you.”

They tiptoed upstairs like guilty teenagers, wincing at each loud squeak of the stairs.

He led her down the hall and up the stairs leading to the attic. “Miss Belle knew I loved to read and my brother teased me about it, so she let me claim this room as my secret hideout.

I’d hide up here for hours without anyone the wiser, reading Shelley, Shakespeare, Dickens, you name it.”

The attic was dusty and crowded with furniture covered with sheets. His brother had only rarely come up here because the dust worsened his allergies. Allergies led to an asthma attack, something star athlete Victor would try to avoid at any cost.

A small door led to Conn’s secret room. “Back in the old days, this was probably the nursery. On the other end of the storage area is the old servants’ quarters.”

“Did they ever have slaves here?”

“Not a one.” He opened the door for her and stepped back in time. Even as a kid, this room had been small, perched on the top of the grand house like a nest on a tree. The ceilings were so low that even Rae had to stoop to look out the window. “Great-Grandpa Healy came over from Ireland where he’d worked a scrap of land for the manor lord. He always said that was as close to slavery as anyone in his family would ever get.”

A desk stood between the two dormer windows, and over in the corner was a twin-sized bed. The rest of the room contained shelves and shelves of books. The walls were covered with posters of knights, swords, and dragons. Smiling softly, she explored the room, trailing her fingers over his childhood treasures.

She might as well have reached inside his chest and stroked his heart. Her eyes gleamed, a sweet nostalgia on her face. “I loved King Arthur too.”

“Big brother Victor always teased me unmercifully, joking that King Arthur would have to teach me to defend myself.”

A fierceness tightened her face. “Did kids tease you in school?”

“Not for long.” Conn shook his head wryly. Victor might have teased him unmercifully at home, but if anyone messed with Conn at school, they had to deal with his big brother in a hurry. “I always tried wit first, but sometimes only a fist would stop the taunting. By high school, they knew well enough to let me alone. Besides, Victor and I played football, and we were soon heroes, even me, the geeky one who took a book on the bus to the games.”

“What position did you play?”

“Victor was the quarterback, and I was his receiver. We made quite a duo, took our school to the state champions Victor’s senior year. Texas is big on football, you know.”

“What happened after Victor left?”

Conn stretched out on his childhood bed, remembering the many nights he’d lain on this bed wishing he was as good as his brother, pushing himself harder so he wouldn’t be left behind. What he’d never realized until years later was that Victor would never have abandoned him or his family, even if it’d meant losing. Mama had certainly named him true: Victor had the heart of a champion. “He went on to college and played at Texas A&M. Victor made quite a name for himself before he blew out his knee. People projected them to win it all that year if he’d been able to play.”

She turned from checking out the shelves. “What about you?”

“I could play the game, but it wasn’t my passion, not like Victor. He was devastated when he couldn’t play any longer. It was like breaking Mozart’s hands so he couldn’t compose any longer, or blinding Monet.” Conn still remembered the look on Daddy’s face when the doctor had broken the news. Gut-wrenching grief. Not because his son couldn’t be the star quarterback any longer, but because he knew the blow it would be to Victor’s champion heart.

“He lived and breathed football and he had a talent burning bright.”

“‘ Tyger! Tyger! burning bright,/ in the forests of the night.’”

Conn smiled but sadness still weighed him down. Victor had used his drive to succeed, whether on or off the field. He’d bought a small television station barely keeping its head above water in Dallas, and now his station ran some of the most popular—and risqué—cable shows in all of Texas. Yet Conn still wondered if his brother had ever truly recovered from losing his dream.

Rae knelt on the floor beside him and took his hand in hers, her fingers lightly stroking over his knuckles, easing the sadness in his heart.

“I never burned as brightly as him, not unless I talked about literature. My senior year, I really felt torn. I knew what I wanted to do, and I knew what Daddy and Victor expected of me, or so I thought. I’d won titles, too, broke records. I was fast and tall, and I had good hands.”

She made a sound that made him laugh and roll over onto his side.

“You like my hands, darlin’?”

“Nobody’s got hands like you.”

He couldn’t help but give her a very lecherous wink. “That’s what Victor said, too.”

Lips quirked with amusement, she replied, “For very different reasons, obviously.”

Nodding, he continued the story. “The big college decision came closer and closer, and I became quieter and more worried by the minute. I wanted to go to Southern Methodist and study English, reading to my heart’s content. But they have a shitty football program, and Texas A&M was already courting me. Hell, even University of Texas came calling, and Daddy and Victor both would have killed me before they let me join the Horns. Still, in my mind, I decided they’d rather I play there than not at all.”

Even years later, he remembered the heart-wrenching decision he’d made after agonizing many a sleepless night, wrestling with his heart’s desire and his imagined duty. “Finally, I decided to go to Texas A&M and play ball with Victor. I put away my treasured books, and it was like cutting my heart out. I mourned, silently, or so I thought. I sat out on the porch with my tattered copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets, rocking in the porch swing for hours. Daddy came out and stood on the porch.”

Conn smiled at the memory: his father standing tall and strong, a black mountain backlit by the homestead’s warm glow. Even on the verge of manhood himself, he’d imagined his father invincible. “Now Daddy was a hard, extremely quiet man. He never raised his voice and very rarely ever had to spank us when we were little, because he had that look, you know?”

“My daddy has that same look, even in a wheelchair.” Nodding, she arched a brow at him, a teasing look sparking in her eyes. “You’ve got that look too, when you want to.”

“Strikes fear into you, does it?” Despite the light joking tone, he watched her face carefully to see if he truly scared her. Playfully, she slugged him in the chest, easing his tension. “Well, I’ve got nothing like my daddy’s look. He’d won Colonel Healy’s approval to marry his daughter, and let me tell you, Colonel Healy was one tough bird. He took shit off nobody, not even Miss Belle, although she got away with more than most. That night, Daddy said:

“‘I miss those days you and Victor played catch all night in the yard. He loved playing ball, but he loved playing with you more. He loved it more than he wanted to breathe.’ He turned and gave me that heavy stare that was enough to send me running to do whatever chore I’d neglected. ‘Son, what do you want to do more than breathe?’

“Now this took every ounce of my courage, but I stood up, clutching that precious book in my hands, and I blurted out the truth. ‘I want to study English. I want to teach. I love it, Daddy, and I don’t love football. But I love Victor and you, and if you want me to play, I will.’

“‘You do what you love, son. You go read your books. Life’s too short not to spend every waking moment doing something you love.’

“He was one amazing man,” Conn whispered, his chest tightening with love and grief, both. “He died right after I got my bachelor’s degree. He came to SMU and cheered for me as hard as he did Victor, in his quiet way, of course. I never knew he was sick when I moved off to Duke to get my doctorate. Mama called me home just in time to say goodbye. I’ll never forget how scared I was, though, heading off to the college of my choice, living my dream, afraid I’d fail, or worse.”

Rae stirred beside him, drawing his attention to her. Her lovely face was strained, her eyes glimmering with tears. “Why is it so scary to do what you want so much?”

He cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand. Did she understand that he loved her more than life itself? “Because when you love something more than breathing, a part of you will die if it doesn’t work out.”

“That part of you dies anyway if you don’t risk it.” Darkness filled her eyes, hurts and disappointments, love betrayed and innocence lost. He only knew bits and pieces of these last five years, but she knew the cost of sacrificing a dream as well as he. “Actually, more of you dies, I think. It rots inside you like a cancer.”

“No more cancer, darlin’.” Part of him wanted to turn back time and spare her those hurts, but would she have run from him again? Had those years of sadness been necessary to bring them together here and now? He couldn’t do anything to wipe the darkness from her memory, but he could certainly give her new dreams. New memories to warm her heart for the rest of their lives. “We’ve got the cure right here, right now, if you want to take it.”

Chapter Thirteen

Rae sat back on her heels, measuring the tiny bed with her eyes. “There’s not room for you, let alone both of us.”

Sitting up, he reached out, grasped her hands, and drew her to him. “You think so, darlin’?” Hands closing around her waist, he lifted her onto his lap. Then he lay back on the bed, shifting deliberately beneath her until she felt his erection nestled hard between her legs.

As a result, the silk sheath rode up high on her hips.

Concentrating on breathing slowly and evenly, and not ripping his shirt open, she could hardly recognize her thick, raspy voice. “I never imagined you’d let me be on top.”

“Darlin’, I’ll let you take any position you want as long as I’m inside you.” He feathered his fingertips over the curves of her breasts bared by the low-cut black silk bodice. “You look amazing. Is black your favorite color?”

“Nope.”

His mouth quirked, eyes darkening. Sliding his hands down, he hooked his thumbs beneath the hem of the dress. “Are you going to let me see which ones you picked?”

Her breath caught in her throat, her stomach fluttering. I’d let you do damned near anything you want. Afraid she’d said it aloud, she flushed, searching his gaze for any flicker of response.

“Just a peek, darlin’. Give me a glimpse of heaven to distract me from the hell of Miss Belle’s cooking.” His fingers stroked higher on her hips, silk gliding higher. “Have you thought of your word yet?”

She blinked stupidly. How could she think when she straddled him like this? “Word?”

“I want you to pick a word that makes you feel safe and protected when you’re with me.”

Safe, yeah, right. Staring down into his face shadowed by a day’s growth, she decided he looked nothing like safety. Midnight eyes flashing with wicked intent, he looked like sin.

“It should be meaningful and unusual, not something you’d say to me under any normal situation. That way, I know immediately that you need me to stop.”

Shelley was his favorite poet, and she knew he’d studied Prometheus Unbound in his doctorate thesis. He’d commented on it often in class. “How about… Prometheus?”

She wasn’t prepared for him to laugh with amusement. “I have a dog named Prometheus, and one named Manfred.”

Oh. She wracked her brain, trying to remember some other name from their poetry class.

Not Byron or Shelley—those were too easy, and he’d likely quiz her on them directly. “How about Ozymandias?”

“‘ My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:/ Look on my works ye Mighty, and despair! ’

Are you sure you can say it in the throes of passion? Perhaps we should test it out.”

That didn’t sound good. Well, it did, but—

He raised her up and scooted lower, wiggling her up onto his stomach. His chest.

“What are you doing?”

With another heave, he worked her knees up over his shoulders, putting his face inches away from the vee of her thighs. “I want to see what your favorite color is.”

Involuntarily, she closed her thighs against invasion, his bristly face rough on the tender skin.

He pushed her dress up around her waist and made an appreciative sound. “Cherry red, very nice.” He breathed deeply and his chest vibrated against her legs. “You smell like spice and musk, velvet and satiny rose petals. I’m hungry, darlin’, hungry for you. I want to savor a taste of you before Miss Belle’s cooking kills my tastebuds.”

Breathing shallow and fast, she thought her heart might pound right out of her chest. She cast a wary glance at the door. It was shut, but Miss Belle was right downstairs. The threat of exposure made her feel like a teenager making out in the backseat of his car in the middle of the night in the park. “Here?”

“Give me a taste of heaven while I blow your mind.”

He splayed his left hand on her buttock, urging her closer, while he worked his right hand down by his face to lightly stroke over the red silk. “Oh, yeah, you’ve already dampened these sexy little panties. Lean back and brace yourself on my stomach. I’d rather taste you skin to skin without the barrier, but I don’t have time to do you full justice this first time. Later tonight, I’ll strip these off, spread you wide, and lick until you beg for mercy.”

Moaning at the thought, she leaned back, tilting her pelvis up for him. Hot and wet, his tongue slid up the crotch of her panties. She dug her fingers into the flat planes of his stomach hard enough he grunted. Even through the silk, the pressure of his tongue, the heat of his breath, was amazing.

He hooked a finger beneath her panties, unerringly sliding deep into her. His tongue curled, pressing silk inside. His teeth closed carefully around that bud of flesh, his finger stroking slow and firm. Pleasure hummed inside her, swelling, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

“Oh no you don’t, darlin’. I want to hear you. Don’t keep anything back from me.”

A ragged moan escaped, and she clenched her hands tighter.

Somebody knocked on the door. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Conn!” Rae panted, jerking against his grip. Miss Belle had already caught them once, in a much less compromising position. She’d die of embarrassment if the old bat walked in now. “Let me go!”

“Not yet, darlin’. Not until you come.”

Her voice went up another notch. “What if she comes in?”

“Then she sees me eating my cherry dessert early. Or you can use your word and I’ll stop immediately.”

The door handle wiggled, jangling, and she spasmed, her heart nearly leaping out of her chest.

“Why is this door locked? Verrill Connagher, open this door right now!”

“I didn’t lock it,” he whispered. “Come or give me your word, darlin’. Colonel Healy can’t hold her off for long.”

Through the silk, he sucked harder, his tongue stroking firm. She clenched, groaning desperately when he got another finger inside her. But the door rattled, Miss Belle pounding, shouting.

She couldn’t do it. Any minute, the crazy old lady would barge in. “Ozy—”

The rest of the safe word was lost in a rush of pleasure. Groaning, he rubbed his face harder against her, drawing out every tremor. Then he lifted her off, set her on her feet and smoothed her dress down just as the door flew open hard enough to hit the wall.

Rae swayed, grateful for his hands on her waist. She hunched her shoulders against the daggers the old lady must be shooting at her back.

“What’s going on in here?” Miss Belle retorted. “Didn’t you hear me knocking?”

Using Rae’s body to block his grandmother’s view, he slipped his fingers into his mouth and sucked them clean, growling softly. Fresh moisture flooded between her trembling legs, and his eyes darkened, his nostrils flaring as if he scented her desire.

“Sorry, Miss Belle. You know that old door always used to stick.” Conn winked at Rae and stood up, drawing her into his arms. Face hot, she buried her face against his shirt and prayed the old lady wouldn’t take one look at her and know the truth. “What’s for dinner?”

“Meatloaf.”

Conn flinched. She glanced up at his face, and he was actually rather pale. He squeezed her reassuringly, but his coloring worsened as they headed downstairs. The closer they got to the dining room table, the smell grew worse. Rotting cabbage and eggs was the closest description Rae could come up with. The black dress was too low cut for her to stick her nose down in her shirt, so she leaned into him and breathed in his scent as long as possible.

A brown log was on the table, along with a bowlful of something that she thought was supposed to be mashed potatoes, but it looked rather like glue, and another bowl of green beans so shriveled up they looked like dirty green pipe cleaners. Rae shared a mute, pleading look with Conn, and his arm tightened. He looked to the door, as if he might bolt, but then pulled her chair out.

Sitting down at the head of the table, Miss Belle frowned. “Be a dear and slice the meatloaf, Conn.”

Staring at the brown log doubtfully, he picked up a serrated knife and tapped the loaf. It thunked. “Did you put concrete in it?”

“Balderdash.” Miss Belle sniffed, which made her cough into her hanky. “Oh dear. It doesn’t smell like this when Samantha makes it.”

“Nothing smells like this but sewage,” Conn muttered. “Maybe a medieval battlefield full of rotting bodies. Certainly not anything I want to put in my mouth.”

Eyes watering, Rae tried not to laugh, because then she’d have to take a deeper breath of the putrid meatloaf. God help her if the old lady actually expected her to eat it.

He tried to slice it but ended up using both hands on the hilt and sawing it apart. Green and red bits fell out. Conn turned his head and coughed, eyes streaming.

Even Miss Belle looked rather green around the gills. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have tried stuffing it.”

“Stuff it with what?”

“Anchovies, capers, red pimento, all sorts of elegant things I found in the cupboard. Even some pickled quail eggs.”

“Are quail eggs supposed to be green?”

Rae gagged. “I’m sorry, Miss Belle, but capers make me ill.”

“Oh, dear. Well.” Miss Belle blinked, eyes watering, and dabbed at them with her napkin.

“Me too. Let’s have dinner in town.”

Rae had never been so happy to sit down at a greasy spoon for a hamburger and fries.

Sitting tight against Conn’s side with her face on his shoulder, she thought she might eventually get the stench of Miss Belle’s deadly meatloaf out of her nose. Someday. In the meantime, she didn’t care if the old lady approved of such public affection or not.

He leaned forward just enough for her to wedge in behind his shoulder. His left arm ran down the front of her body. What Miss Belle didn’t know was that his hand cupped her beneath the dress and she’d wrapped her thighs tight around his forearm to keep it there.

Good thing he could eat one handed.

“Who’s that man at the counter?” Miss Belle asked, daintily dabbing at her lips. She’d already finished her bacon cheeseburger and was eyeing Rae’s Susie Q’s. The old lady ate like a horse.

Conn glanced at the man sitting on the old-fashioned round barstool and gave him a hard glare that sent cold chills down Rae’s spine. Every man in the place—including Conn—was dressed in jeans except for him. He wore a suit and sat like the king of the world surveying his domain. Mid thirties, she thought, rather attractive in a slick used-car-salesman sort of way.

Not her type.

Especially when the man sitting beside her took her breath away.

“Jared Kent, vice president of the bank.” Conn gave a little squeeze, drawing a soft moan out of her. As if he needed to remind her where her eyes should be. Irritated, she sat up straighter, ready to push him away, but he winked at her over his shoulder. She bit him in the back, lightly at first in a warning nip, and then harder because she liked the feel of him in her mouth.

His voice was thicker when he continued. “His family’s well off, nearly owned the whole town until the Healys marched in and set up camp. His daddy runs the bank, while his uncle runs the town council. His grandfather was the county seat judge for decades.”

“I thought so.” The gleam in Miss Belle’s eyes grew brighter. “He looks rather familiar.

His granddaddy and Colonel Healy fought for my hand.”

Miss Belle’s glass of Cherry Coke quivered and slid toward the edge of the table. Rae gasped, gripping Conn’s arm tighter, her mouth dry. The old lady caught the glass and calmly took a sip before setting it back in front of her. “You know that’s the truth, honey. You also know I never looked at him after you declared your intentions.”

A breeze ruffled Miss Belle’s bangs and she giggled.

Damned if she didn’t blush, too. The old lady leered across the table at Rae. “Healy men are rather arrogant, Rae Lynn, but they’re worth the trouble. Just remember my pink parasol is at your disposal if you ever need to beat some sense into my grandson.”

Conn leaned back to whisper into her ear. “If you whack me with something, then I get to turn you over my knee.”

Miss Belle winked and slid out of the booth. “Don’t keep her out too late, Conn, or I’ll come looking for you again. I’m going to stop at Pearsons for a drink first.”

“Pearsons?” Conn frowned. “That’s a pretty rough bar, Miss Belle. Are you sure—”

“Colonel Healy assures me some very interesting goings-on have occurred there. I’m going to see for myself.” Bending down, she patted him on the shoulder and whispered loudly.

“Just a few more days and I’ll win the bet. So be a gentleman and take your hand out from under the dear girl’s dress.”

With another wink, the old lady headed outside, jumped in her white Caddy, and flew down the blacktop.

Ears roaring and face burning, Rae eased her leg-grip on his hand.

“Do you want anything else?” His voice was husky with laughter and desire. “Because I’m ready for dessert, and I don’t mean an ice cream shake. Although I’ll take the cherry on top.”

Turning a delightful shade of pink that would do Miss Belle proud, Rae slugged him in the shoulder and pushed his hand free. Laughing softly, Conn dropped a few bills on the table and drew her out of the booth. She turned to leave, and he caught a glimpse of white on the booth. Why she kept carrying the purse when she obviously cared so little about it was beyond him. He bent over to retrieve it.

As he straightened, he noticed the slick-suited man at the counter staring at her legs with a salacious twist to his smooth, cultured lips that made Conn ache to pound him to a pulp.

Smoothing the dress back down over her hips, she noticed the man ogling her, too, and sent a tight, concerned glance at Conn. He smiled reassuringly and dropped his black leather coat around her shoulders. Evidently, Dick had hassled her if other men dared look at her.

Idiot. Pressing the forgotten purse into her hand, he drew her close and whispered, “I know who you’re going home with, darlin’, and you certainly don’t look at him like you look at me.”

The worry eased on her face. “Am I going home with you?”

He took her hand, drawing her close to his side. While outwardly he remained unconcerned, he kept one eye on Jared Kent, who slid off his barstool as they approached. “I certainly hope so, at least for awhile.”

“I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure,” Kent said. “Connagher, isn’t it?”

Conn knew exactly what kind of man Mr. Slick was, and he’d lay a hand on Rae over Conn’s dead body. “And you won’t.”

“You didn’t go to school around here, did you?”

“Nope.”

The man frowned, trying to place him. Did the bastard forget the worst beating of his life? “Have you lived here long?”

“Only eight years,” Conn replied wryly, shaking his head.

He headed for the door, but the moron stepped in front of him. Conn knew the type; he just couldn’t let something go. Like a little yapper, he had to be top dog, even if the new dog on the block was a pit bull. He was too stupid and full of himself to see the teeth. “Come on, Connagher, introduce me to the girl.”

Rae wrapped both hands around his biceps, pressing closer to him, both seeking protection as well as proclaiming her loyalties. Or was she afraid she might have to hold him back? He looked down at her, letting a slow smile spread across his face. “Darlin’, he’s not worth it.”

“Do you know who I am?” the man retorted, puffing himself up.

Hard and grim, Conn knew the predator flashed in his eyes. The man finally realized his family name and wealth meant absolutely nothing at all to him. “Don’t you remember me, Kent? Fifteen years ago I rescued a girl out of your car who wasn’t too happy with your overzealous affections. Even if she hadn’t been my baby sister, I would have given you a beating. As it was…well, you’re lucky to still be breathing. Don’t make me regret my merciful decision.”

The other man paled, glanced about the room, his hands clenching at his sides.

“What? Nobody knows the truth about you? You were able to buy them all off?

Amazing.” Conn let his voice echo with menace. “Tell him who you are, darlin’.”

She raised her chin and said, “I’m his.”

“That’s right.” He lowered his voice to a rumble, and she shivered against his arm, her fingers tightening. “Lay a finger on her and lose it. Ogle her again, and I’ll rip your eyes out of your fucking skull. Now get out of my way.”

Sweat trickled down the man’s face and he glanced about the restaurant, desperately looking for a buddy to stand up with him. Shaking his head, Conn drew her around the man and walked out without another glance.

Adrenaline pumped in his veins, sending a throbbing drumbeat straight to his groin that made him grind his teeth with frustration. He’d planned to encourage Rae to test him tonight, but he was so jacked up…

“Did he really hurt your sister?”

“Vicki was only fifteen, but she’d blacked his eye and split his lip by the time I tracked them down. We’d taught her how to defend herself well. But she was scared and it took her a long time to go out on dates with guys she didn’t know very well again.” Meeting Rae’s serious eyes gleaming in the parking lot lights, he forced himself to admit the whole story. “I nearly killed him. I dragged him out of the car and laid into him, fists flying. Vicki ended up having to save him from me. Kent’s family tried to cause problems with the local sheriff, but Miss Belle marched downtown and threats of arresting me quickly disappeared. I did go home early, though, and I had the talk of my life with Daddy.”

“Surely he wasn’t angry with you for protecting your sister.”

“No, but he wasn’t pleased that I’d lost control. He said there’s two kind of men in this world: men who can control themselves, and men who can’t. Obviously Kent is a man who has absolutely no desire to control himself. He sees something he wants; he takes it. He treats women like dirt because they’re nothing to him but a quick lay in the backseat of his car.

Daddy asked did I want to be that kind of man? If not, then I’d better learn to control myself.”

“There are gray areas,” Rae protested, letting her hands settle on his waist. “I’m glad you taught that man a lesson for hurting your sister.”

“But he didn’t learn a thing, darlin’, don’t you see? He’s still the same jerk. Dick is the same jerk. They’ll always be jerks. Daddy didn’t believe in gray areas. He would have said be black, or be white, but quit moseying back and forth over the line. If you’re going to cross a line, step over it boldly. Years later, he admitted he was glad I’d beaten that punk within an inch of his life, because if Daddy had caught him hurting his baby girl…Well. A shotgun is simply a waste of lead on a man like Jared Kent.”

“Your Daddy sounds like…a very hard man.”

“He was.” Conn smiled with remembrance. “He taught me a hell of lot. Now I’m going to ask if you trust me not to cross the line tonight if I take you home with me.”

She licked her lips, her gaze dropping to his mouth. “Is this the final exam?”

“I’m ready for anything you throw at me.”

“What if I throw myself at you?”

He drew her into his arms, cradling her against him. God, she felt so small and fragile in his arms. It was all he could do not to crush her between him and the Mustang. “I’ll catch you.

Are you really mine, darlin’?”

She must have heard the catch in his voice, for she gripped him harder, tucking her body tight against him. “I never could refuse you. I’m certainly not going to start now.”

Cupping her cheek, he tilted her mouth up to his so he could whisper against her lips.

“I’m going to take you home with me for awhile, but I swear I’ll take you back to Beulah Land as soon as you ask. I also swear that we will not have sex tonight. It’s too soon. We might practice your safe word a little, if you’re up for it. I need to know what your limits are before we get too committed.”

He felt her heart thud slow and heavy. Her eyes were dark, her pupils large, liquid and shining like wet ink. She took a deep breath and a tremor shimmered through her. “I’m scared.”

“That’s exactly why you’re not coming to my bed yet. We’ll go slow and easy, Rae. I swear it.”

She gave him a little nod, her mouth trembling. Kissing her gently, he helped her into the car, hurried to his seat, and pulled out with a squeal of tires that likely left black marks on the street.

He’d dreamed of taking her home with him for five long, agonizing years. She might think his final exam would be him trying to get into her pants, but that wouldn’t even be close.

The hardest thing he’d ever do in his entire life would be allowing her to leave his house once she’d stepped foot inside.

Chapter Fourteen

Dear Dr. Connagher:

Last night, I let my husband hurt me.

After leaving you for that very reason, I let him hurt me. Not because I wanted to please him, as I did you. Oh no. With you, it was like a test, a final, and I wanted desperately to pass.

You remember that final you gave me, there in your office on your desk, don’t you?

My reasoning last night went like this: If I really loved Richard, then I would do what he wanted. I would do anything to make him happy.

But the morning-after Rae whispers that it was merely guilt, because I still dream about you. Deep down, maybe I think that letting him hurt me was only the punishment I deserved.

He loved it. I cried with my face in the pillow. I felt nothing but pain. I wasn’t even glad he enjoyed it. I just felt used, broken. He didn’t care that it hurt. He didn’t even hold me while I cried.

At least you held me.

I thought I understood humiliation that day in your office when you bent me over your desk and heated my backside while I moaned and cried out your name. But I was wrong.

Humiliation is knowing you should stand up for yourself, but you don’t. Humiliation is knowing it’s only going to hurt, and you let someone hurt you anyway. You stay, and you stay, and it just goes on and on. That’s humiliation. I’ve got it in spades.

And the worst part? If he keeps asking me, I’ll probably let him do it again.

Why? I wish I knew. I wish I could just say no and mean it, and he’d understand that. I wish I’d said no when he asked me to marry him. No, no, no. Why is that so hard?

What would you have done if I’d told you no that day in your office? If you wanted to hurt me like he did, would I have been able to tell you no? That’s why we’re not together. I’m more afraid of you than Richard, because you…

I was afraid you would make me want it, and then hurt me. I would have asked you for it. Shit, who am I kidding? I wanted you so badly, I would have begged you to do it again.

~ Rae

She should have known that the English professor would live in a cottage fit for Shakespeare. In the darkening dusk, it was hard to tell the exact scope of the riotous gardens surrounding the house, but the heady scent of late-blooming flowers filled the air. It must be gorgeous in full summer.

Dogs barked, welcoming the master home. Conn took her hand, his grip firm on her chilly fingers. Like he knew she might bolt. Stepping into his territory, with no allies like Miss Belle ready to distract him and rescue her, was a limit she wasn’t sure she wanted to explore.

She had to trust him, and herself. Neither was very reassuring, but the latter was especially troubling. How could she trust herself when she’d left him the first time and married another man? A man she despised, who hurt her, who belittled her?

“This is Manfred.” Conn stroked the massive head of a chocolate brown elephant of a mastiff. Regal and slow, the dog sniffed her hand, allowing her to pet him. Then he promptly lay down and rolled over for her to scratch his belly. “And this little scallywag is Prometheus.”

The scruffiest little dog she’d ever seen ran around Conn’s feet, yapping and dancing with excitement. He jumped up and put his front paws on her to lick her face. Tears burned her eyes and she picked him up. He was the happiest, most excited dog she’d ever seen, barking and licking and leaping out of her arms to run around Conn again.

“He was a stray, just showed up here one day. Manfred adopted him. Make yourself at home while I take them out back.”

Watching him with his dogs and their devoted adoration for him, she smiled. Dogs knew more than people, and they loved their master. He must take very good care of them. They certainly didn’t cringe away from him or crouch down in fear. Not like her dog had done whenever Richard came home.

She didn’t like that memory. Another small battle she’d lost in the scope of their marriage.

She walked deeper into Conn’s domain. The house smelled like leather and old books, a deep visceral reminder of him. A lovely burgundy leather sofa set against the wall, brass nail heads and all, long enough she bet even he could lay on it without his feet hanging off. A sword hung above it, curved steel gleaming. It looked very real and very deadly.

Hardwood floors, wood chair rails, topped with old-fashioned white-washed plaster.

One whole room was dedicated to a gleaming black baby grand piano. Did he play? She wished she knew.

Books were stacked everywhere. Neat piles, but piles just the same. On the floor, on every table, on shelves lining the walls. Leather-bound, paperback, non-fiction, biographies and collections of letters and correspondence to the latest genre favorites. His reading tastes were wide and varied.

What would he think of her letters? Lightly, she touched the small purse hanging off her shoulder, the CD hard inside. They were so…raw. Giving him these letters would be like ripping her heart out and offering it on a plate.

Yet she’d brought them, as he asked.

Irritated at herself, she tossed the purse on the counter in the kitchen. Maybe he’d forget to ask for them. Slipping off his coat, she buried her face in the leather. So good. Just smelling him, with all the sensual torment he’d been giving her… She was ready, right here, right now.

He could throw her over his shoulder and carry her to bed and she’d probably climax on the way. Shit. Who was she kidding? She could climax now. If he walked in, backed her up against the wall, pressed his hard, impressive body against hers…

She’d explode.

Conn came back through the kitchen door, smelling of enthusiastic dogs and honeysuckle. “What do you think?”

“It’s lovely. Your very own Stratford-upon-Avon.”

He rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands. Those big, powerful hands, rubbing together, water cascading over his fingers, the cords in his forearms working. She was bad off if watching him wash his hands was erotic.

“I was going to rent an apartment in Springfield closer to Drury, but Miss Belle offered this place to me as long as I wanted it. When she moved back to the States, she liked having me close. So we made it official, and she ceded me the guesthouse and forty acres early.”

“She was out of the country?”

“Miss Belle has led a very colorful life, darlin’. Ask her about her years as an actress when you have a year or two to spend watching old black and whites with her.”

“Really?” Stunned, Rae could easily imagine Miss Belle as an actress, sweeping grandly through a story on the silver screen. She certainly had the presence and grace to pull it off.

“What did she do abroad?”

“She and Colonel Healy lived in Ireland for years, but I have no idea what they actually did. They knew some very important people, though, and traveled extensively as long as his health allowed. After he passed away, she moved back here. That was about four years ago, I think. I wasn’t sure if I could actually live so close to her without her driving me crazy, but it’s worked out well for us both. I like having someone to take care of, and she likes having me around to attempt to boss around.”

“Um, about Colonel Healy…” Why was it so hard to say it? “Is he a…ghost?”

“So she says.” Laughing softly, Conn took her hand and drew her toward the inviting leather couch. He sat down and drew her to stand between his knees, his arms coming around her waist loosely. “I’ve seen some incredibly bizarre things in the past few years, so I tend to believe her.”

“Like the glass tonight.”

He nodded. “And the stuck door. But Miss Belle can also lie like you wouldn’t believe.

She’ll talk to the Colonel like he’s right there, and only she knows if she’s doing it on purpose to manipulate us or truly speaking to him.”

He kept his voice light and gentle, but darkness spread in his eyes. Her heart rate accelerated, her pulse jumping frantically in her throat.

“Now, darlin’, I want you to test me. Put me through my paces. Make me sweat.

Torment me. Whatever you want.”

Startled, she searched his gaze. She’d expected him to press the advantage, to manipulate the situation, using the need he knew must be straining in her. “You’re giving me control?”

“You’ve always got the control, Rae. Don’t you understand that yet? Until you do, you’re going to be afraid, and I hate seeing that fear in your eyes. The control is yours in everything we do. If you don’t want to do something, tell me. Give me the word. I’ll stop, no questions asked.”

Swallowing hard, she gripped his shoulders, trying to calm her breathing. She was aroused, true, still hovering on the edge of orgasm, but she was scared too. He knew it, his hands still and gentle on her, his voice soft. But he couldn’t control the need darkening his eyes. Need to dominate her? Or need to touch her? Did it matter?

“Richard couldn’t take no.”

“Dick can go fuck himself. I will not whine, wheedle, or browbeat you into anything, darlin’. Your pleasure and safety are my utmost concerns.”

“What if—” Her mouth was dry, her heart still racing. She licked her lips, fighting the urge to drop her gaze from his. Fought to keep her hands on him, her feet still, instead of backing away. “What if I’m…boring? In bed? I mean, if I don’t want you to…to…”

“You, boring in bed?” He leaned back against the couch and dropped his hands to his thighs. Knees splayed, body vibrating with tension, he reeked of domination and control, his eyes blazing. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you. If you don’t want kinky shit, we don’t do kinky shit. End of story. And I still want you.”

“I don’t want to disappoint you. I can’t—”

“You have this image of me controlling your every move, your every thought, bending you to my will alone.” His eyelids were heavy, the grooves in his forehead and down either side of his mouth telling her how serious he was. How turned on. Yet he maintained control of his body, not even touching her. “Demanding and controlling your pleasure, forcing you to pleasure me, tying you up, making you helpless. And yeah, the thought of doing those things to you makes me damned near blow a gasket simply sitting here while I look at you.”

He shifted a little against the leather, just a subtle movement, but it told her how tightly he reined himself in. His palms gripped his thighs harder, as though he fought with all his will not to haul her into his lap and overwhelm her hesitation.

“But if you want vanilla missionary then I’ll do that too, just as wildly and passionately, over and over, as many times as you’ll let me. Because it’s you beneath me, Rae. I love you. I want to please you in every way you desire and half a million you haven’t even thought of yet.

I’ll give you exactly what you need, every single time.”

Closing her eyes, she swayed, shaking, her breathing coming fast and shallow.

Imagining him on top of her, crushing her into his bed, his hands on her, his tongue gliding between her lips as hard and deep as his body.

He leaned forward, still keeping his hands off her, but his breath fanned across her breasts, already hot and tight and aching. His eyes blazed sapphire, shadows hollowing his face into chasms of mystery. “Absolutely anything you need, darlin’. So if you need me to bend you over my desk again, spank your delectable ass as cherry red as your panties, and then make love to you until you can’t walk, then I can and will do that, too.”

Her nipples were so hard they hurt, brushing against the silk bodice of her dress. Aching hot and clenched so tight a simple stroke of his fingers would send a climax exploding through her, she stood there trembling, trying to remind herself why she had to say no. Why she couldn’t let him put her in such a vulnerable position again. “No.”

She got the word out. She’d done it. Relief surged inside her. I can tell him no and mean it.

She refused to let the memory of his big palms sliding over her backside sway her.

“Good.” Mouth curving in that arrogant, confident smile, he whispered, “Test me, Rae, fully safe in your ability to tell me no. My jeans are staying on tonight no matter what happens.

Let me give you any pleasure you desire, as long as it only involves my hands and tongue. No other part of my body will enter yours tonight.”

“What if I want your jeans off?”

“Nope, not tonight. You’re testing me, remember? If you get in my pants, I’ll come in your hand in a second. If I take a release tonight, it’ll be ultimate failure. I’m not failing this test, Rae. I’m not failing you. So tell me what you want me to do first.”

“Take off your shirt.”

Smiling slow and lazy, Conn tugged his shirt out of his jeans and began unbuttoning it.

Evidently too slowly, because she reached out, grabbed a handful of material in each hand, and yanked until something tore. Buttons tinged on the wood floor.

He let his head fall back against the couch and laughed huskily. “Impatient, darlin’?”

She stroked her hands over his shoulders, biceps, down his chest, tormenting him with trailing fingertips up and down his midsection. Despite every urge pounding in his blood, he kept his hands locked on his thighs. He didn’t need her little moan of frustration to tell him she wanted, needed, so much more. It was all he could do not to drag her onto his lap. “If you need something, tell me.”

“Hold me?”

He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close to the heat of his body.

“Absolutely.”

She rubbed her face against his neck, her breath hot on his skin. She pressed her lips to his throat and her hands locked on his shoulders. Delightful torture, surely, but she didn’t touch him easily. On a delicious shudder, she flicked her tongue lightly and then backed off.

Her fingers dug into him, not to hold him close, but as though she fought something.

A need she didn’t want him to know.

She ducked her head so he wouldn’t see the darkness in her eyes.

“Oh, no you don’t, darlin’.”

Startled, she risked a quick glance up at his face, her eyes tight, mouth tense.

“I won’t allow you to hide from me.”

Her gaze skittered away. “I’m not hiding.”

“I won’t allow you to lie to me either,” he drawled out, forcing his hands away from her hips and back to his own thighs. He wouldn’t use his hands to persuade her to share. This time.

Silence stretched out while she fidgeted between his knees, her fingers clasped tight on his shoulders. He didn’t say a word, waiting for her to decide how to tell him whatever was bothering her.

Instead, she reached behind her to the zipper of her dress and let the silk slide down her body to puddle on the floor. Interesting choice, he decided, suppressing the instantaneous urge to suck in a deep breath and bury his face between her bare breasts.

Shimmering hot velvet in his arms, she crowded close and cried out softly as though he’d burned her. Locking his own desire down hard, he held himself firmly in check. If she thought she could make him forget this difficulty, whatever it was, in a rush of lust, she would be sorely disappointed.

She went down to her knees on the floor and wedged her head up beneath his chin.

Trembling, she clung to him, every muscle screaming at him for comfort, understanding, mercy. Refusing her now was harder than resisting her glorious breasts.

When she finally spoke, the soft, fragile quality of her voice broke his heart.

“At the diner…do you remember…when I bit…your shoulder?”

He reached up and cradled her head to him, his touch a soothing reward. “Yes, I remember.”

“Did you…mind?”

That’s it? He hesitated, wondering why on earth she’d think he’d refuse a little teeth. He tilted her face up to his. “I want to know every single thing you need, no matter how much it scares you. Trust me to take care of you, whatever it is. I certainly won’t mind a love bite.”

She tried to drop her gaze, tugging slightly to free her chin, but he held her steady. She let out a miserable groan. “I don’t want you to say yes just to—”

“To get in your pants?” He laughed, burying his fingers in her hair so he could gently guide her face back to his neck. If she was tempted to bite a hunk out of him, he’d at least make it easy for her. “I’m getting in your pants one way or another, darlin’. Go ahead and tell me all about this dark, horrible need you have. What do you want to do to me?”

“I want—” He could feel the torching heat of her face against his flesh, burning with embarrassment and reluctance. Encouragingly, he massaged the back of her skull, letting the slight motion move her mouth against his skin. His heartbeat quickened in anticipation.

Whispering so softly he nearly couldn’t hear her, she admitted the truth. “I want to bite you again.”

“How hard?” Anticipating her attempt at withdrawal, he kept his hand firm on her head, refusing to allow her to pull away. “Hard enough to leave the mark of your teeth in me? Hard enough to make me shake and curse beneath you? Hard enough to taste my skin in your mouth, to test the strength and depth of my will? Because if that’s what you want, then my answer is hell yeah.”

She twisted her mouth off his skin, her lips tight and closed as though she feared getting her teeth anywhere near him. “Richard didn’t like it. He said it hurt.”

Blistering rage poured through Conn and he hauled in a deep breath, held it, and slowly let it out before he trusted himself to respond without obscenities. “I think we’ve already covered my negative opinion of Dick. Bite me all you want.” He tucked her head deeper into the cradle of his shoulder and neck. “I mean it, Rae. When you bit me at the diner, I loved it. I wanted to haul you into my lap just like this and strip off my clothes so you could bite me anywhere you wanted. Now’s your chance.”

“That was…nothing.” Her voice was muffled against his throat, trembling with need.

Every brush of her lips was torture. “Just a nibble.”

“Good.” He let his tone turn vicious. The thought of her suffering some secret shame because of that dick of an ex-husband made him want to grab the claymore, jump in the Mustang, and hunt the bastard down. The beating he’d given Jared Kent years ago was nothing to what he’d do to Dick if he ever laid eyes on him. “I’m more than man enough to see to your needs, Rae. There’s absolutely nothing you could ever want that will fail to turn me on.”

She tried to retreat one last time, jerking against his firm grip on her head. Finally she sagged against him, her face fully against his throat. “You can’t want me to hurt you.”

Ah. Confused and worried about her own pain-pleasure line, she didn’t expect him, as the dominant, to lean toward an enjoyment of small pain too. He gripped her hand and pressed her palm against the erection straining inside his jeans. “The hell I don’t. Did it hurt when I spanked you?”

Rubbing him through the jeans, she spoke with a thickened voice husky with rising desire. “Yes, some.”

Deliberately, he moved her hand back up to his upper body. If he didn’t get inside her soon, he was going to embarrass himself and earn a big fat F the first time she graded him in bed, but he wasn’t breaking his word tonight. “That’s exactly why you liked it. You want it to hurt, just a little, just enough to make it feel good, damned good.”

She shuddered. “Yes.”

“I’ll let you hurt me just enough to feel damned good.” He released her head, forcing her to make the choice for herself. She might duck out on this test tonight, but he’d certainly reschedule a make-up exam again, and again, until she’d wiped the memory of Dick’s refusal from her mind. “Trust me to know my own limits and help you stay within them.”

Rubbing her face against his throat slowly back and forth, she finally opened her mouth against his neck. He exhaled, long and slow, letting some of the tension out of his shoulders.

The first battle was done, with likely many more to go, exactly why he relished her challenge.

He turned his head slightly to give her better access, silently urging her to test him.

Test this boundary with me. Let me show you my control.

She scraped her teeth carefully down the column of his throat. He let a groan escape, settling his hands on her hips. “How does that make you feel, darlin’?”

“Hungry.” Losing some of her hesitation, she gripped him tighter in her mouth, working her teeth on his neck and the top of his shoulder. “I want to eat you up.”

“Good,” he whispered, reaching up to cup her breast. “I like you hungry, hungry for me.”

She pushed insistently against his hand, so he rolled her nipple between his fingers, lightly at first but pinching harder until she moaned her appreciation against his skin. He tested her just as she tested him, seeking how hard she needed his hands to stroke.

Squirming on his braced thighs, she bit him harder, moaning deep in her throat. More, more, her body quaked, so he answered by jerking the lace of her underwear aside. Lord have mercy, she was so wet, so hot, pushing herself on his fingers. She gripped the ridge of his shoulder in her teeth, shuddered, and cried out around a mouthful of muscle.

Eyes closed, he pumped his fingers through every contraction. The thought of her teeth teasing his throat while he thrust inside her punched through his stomach. Need pulverizing his control, he panted and sweated until he could remember his name again.

Drawing back, she made a low sound of regret. Hesitantly, she reached out shaking fingers to trace the deep indentations her teeth had left in him. “Did I hurt you too much?”

Chuckling—albeit rather raggedly—he laid her flat on the couch and tugged those cherry-red panties down her legs. “My new mission in life is to make you come so hard that you draw blood. I loved it.”

He stared down at her, and he couldn’t help the rising darkness that must be blazing in his eyes. He ached to fill his palms with her breasts, to taste every secret hollow of her body, wallowing in her pleasure until she begged him to stop. “This time, darlin’, I want you to scream my name.”

Chapter Fifteen

Smiling wickedly, Conn leaned back over the arm to pull something out of the end table drawer. “But first—”

Scarves. Sheer and soft, white, so if he blindfolded her… At least she’d be able to see.

Her mouth went dry, heart hammering frantically.

“Give me your hands, darlin’.”

He said it quietly, gently, but the order was implicit in his body language and the heat in his eyes. Fisting her hands to hide her trembling fingers, she held out her arms.

“As soon as you want it off, give me the word. I won’t tie you to anything. I just want to see what you think of some light bondage.”

He looped the scarf around each wrist and then tied them together loosely. The ends trailed over her breasts and stomach, making her tremble.

“Rae?” He touched her cheek, his brow creased. “You’re breathing fast, darlin’. If you don’t like it, I’ll take it off.”

Was she? Yeah, her chest was heaving on shallow, frantic breaths. She wasn’t scared though, not exactly. Shaking with anticipation, perhaps. How many years had she dreamed of him doing exactly this? “It’s okay.”

“Okay?” He leaned down over her, his eyes heavy lidded and dark with desire. He tugged on the scarf, drawing her hands up over the side of the couch, pinning her against the cushioned side. “I’m not the sort of man to be satisfied with merely okay.”

Arching into him, she moaned. “Conn.”

“That’s better. Remember your safe word. When you’ve had enough, use it. For now, I want you to keep your hands right there, even if I’m not holding you down. Understand?”

“What if—” She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. “What if I don’t?”

He smiled slowly, his eyes gleaming. “Then I get to make you.”

He adjusted her legs, his hands firm as he positioned her exactly where he wanted: thighs spread, arms draped over the side of the chair. He even tugged her ass closer toward him. For an eternity, he didn’t touch her, but merely looked at her, caressing her breasts with his eyes until they were tight and hot, aching for his touch.

His gaze dropped from her stomach to her sex. Legs sprawled inelegantly, she felt heat creeping down her face to her chest. It took all her self control to keep from closing her legs and hiding from his intimate stare.

His voice was rough when he finally spoke. “I’ve dreamed of this for years, Rae. The only thing that could possibly make this better is if you were tied to my headboard.”

The image filled her mind, tied spread-eagled to his bed, helpless for whatever he wanted.

Her body gave a little jerk, an involuntary reflex that she couldn’t hide. When he made a low sound of approval, she was glad she hadn’t been able to control it.

Lightly, he stroked his finger around the outer edges, as softly as air. “Quote me some poetry, Miss Jackson. Any poet. Whatever you remember from my class.”

Talk about pressure. Her mind went as blank as a clean chalkboard. How could she think with him looking and touching her like this?

Leaning down, he slid a finger inside slowly, drawing ragged moans from her lips. He looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire. “If you want my mouth here, you’ll quote something.”

“Maybe I don’t want your mouth there.”

“The cream pouring out of you says otherwise, so I’ll call that bluff and raise you.” He lowered his mouth toward her breast. Hot breath moistened her nipple, but he didn’t take it in his mouth. Instead, he brushed his bristled jaws over the curve, rasping back and forth.

Sweet agony. She arched her back, aching to feel his mouth, his tongue, not those damned whiskers abrading her flesh. She started to move her hands down to grab his head and drag him close, but he growled warningly.

“Poetry, Rae.” He gave a little twist with his finger, stirring the pot of need bubbling inside her. “And keep those hands put. What was your favorite poem? I’ll help you with it.”

“‘ She walks in beauty like the night.’”As soon as she started quoting, he opened his mouth and took her breast deep, tongue swirling. When she stopped… He did too. Desperate, she lurched into the next line.

“‘ Of cloudless climes and starry skies;/ And all that’s best of dark and… and…’”

Her voice shook. Why couldn’t she remember?

He released her breast and rubbed his cheek against her stomach. “‘ Bright/ Meets in her aspect and her eyes:/ Thus mellow’d to that tender light/ Which heaven to gaudy day denies.’”

Sucking lightly at her stomach, he waited to see if she could remember the next line.

“‘ One shade the more, one ray the less,/ Had half impair’d the nameless grace/ Which waves in every raven tress/ Or soft…’ Something. I can’t remember!”

He slid off the couch to his knees on the floor, picking up her leg to kiss and lick behind her knee. He murmured the next stanza against her skin, slowly moving his way up. “‘ Or softly lightens o’er her face;/ Where thoughts serenely sweet express/ How pure, how dear their dwelling place. ’ This is my dwelling place, darlin’, right here between your thighs.”

When she hesitated, he nipped at her inner thigh hard enough she gasped. “You like to bite, so I thought you’d like a little payback. Was I wrong?”

She swirled her hips, her breathing coming faster. So close. If he thrust just a little harder

—

Instead, he completely removed his finger, returning to soft nibbles up the curve of her thigh to tickle his tongue in the crease. “Finish the poem, darlin’, and I’ll finish you.”

Need pounded like a jackhammer in her head, her heart thundering. “I can’t…

remember… Help. Start it.”

She felt him smile against her skin and his fingers traced the curve of her buttock. “‘ And on that cheek’”

“‘ And o’er that brow,/ So soft, so calm, so eloquent,/ The smiles that win—’”

He set his mouth on her. Her hips jerked, words forgotten in the immediate surge of pleasure swelling within her. He backed off a little, lightly swirling his tongue deeper, replacing his finger.

Neck straining back over the armrest, she cried out. “Conn, I need to touch you, please…”

“Finish it and you can put your hands on me. ‘ The tints that glow,/ but tell of days in goodness spent,’”

“‘ A mind at peace, ’” she panted harder, twisting her hips, trying to find the release hovering just beyond her sight. Like a magical golden veil seen from the corner of her eyes, so close, so visible, but only if she held her head just so… “‘ With all below,/ a heart whose love is innocent!’”

“Excellent,” he whispered, humming approval against her. He flattened his tongue harder against her, his finger sliding deep, and the golden veil tore in her mind.

Quivering, she tried to catch her breath. Her hands— Good, she’d kept them where he’d told her. She started to sit up, but he growled again, raising his head.

“I’m not through with you, Rae. I didn’t hear you scream my name. I didn’t hear you beg for mercy. I certainly didn’t hear your safe word.”

His head dipped again, his tongue sliding the full length of her, dragging through every sensitive inch.

Legs trembling, she gripped her hands together so hard her fingernails dug into her palms. Shit, she’d been lucky to climax once per session with Richard. How many times had Conn made her come today already? “You can’t honestly expect me to come again.”

“Twice isn’t near enough, darlin’.” He took another long swipe, drawing tremors through her so deep even the arches in her feet hurt. “You taste too good for me to stop now. This is where you learn the truth about what I want. Have you figured it out yet?”

“Evidently not,” she retorted. Her hips jerked, straining to get away from the constant torment. It felt incredible, yet it almost hurt, too. The pleasure was too great. Muscles ached in her thighs, strained wide by his shoulders, his hands gripping just below her buttocks, pushing her knees up.

“Every time you come for me, you submit. You surrender to me. Every time I don’t come, I master myself. I master my self control by claiming your surrender. It’s not about controlling you, Rae. It’s about controlling myself to give you maximum pleasure, to gain your maximum submission. Now do you understand?”

She jerked harder on her legs, trying to get out of his grasp, but he was too strong, easily holding her spread. “You’re controlling me right now.”

“No. I’m controlling myself to drag out your pleasure as long as possible. I want your ultimate trust, that you can give me your surrender over and over and over, and you’ll feel nothing but pleasure in my arms. It’s my job to test your boundaries, to take you places you wouldn’t go on your own, while controlling myself so you’re safe. If you trust me, really trust me, you’ll go to that boundary. You’ll trust me to pull you back to safety every single time, knowing the power is yours, always yours. Only you can give me what I want.”

“What’s that?”

“Trust me with your surrender. I’m going to make you come again and again, darlin’, until you give me your safe word. I need to know you can say it when you’re ready for me to stop.”

He brought his left arm up over her stomach to better pin her hips for him, his fingers sliding down to spread her folds apart. Light and soft, he stroked his tongue everywhere, until her legs wouldn’t stop trembling, her stomach muscles quivered beneath his hand. She couldn’t recognize the sounds coming out of her mouth, desperate gibberish. She’d never made such noise in bed before for any man, but the louder she got, the more he seemed to enjoy it.

She felt the orgasm building, an inexorable wave cresting deep inside her, black and monstrous, a category-five storm she didn’t know that she’d survive. Each orgasm had been more powerful, more devastating.

This one would tear her apart.

“You can put your hands on me if that’ll help.”

Immediately, she dropped her bound hands down to his head, her fingers twisting in his short, dark hair, gliding over his forehead, his eyes. She pulled him closer, ignoring the prickle of his jawline. Murmuring against her, he buried a finger inside her again, holding deep, swirling, and tension mounted in her, humming higher, winding every muscle tighter.

“It’s not enough,” she cried. Emptiness gnawed at her, her muscles clenched like a vise.

“I need you inside me!”

Adjusting his hand, he pressed harder, another finger. Sweat dripped in her eyes and her lungs locked. She felt it, the first tremor inside, growing, ripping her apart. “Conn, please!”

Her head slammed back, her body lost in the storm.

With his fingers still buried inside her, his thumb pressed against her tight anal opening.

A sheet of ice ripped down the back of her head and spine. She remembered her face buried in the pillow, Richard behind her, coming inside her like that. Pain had ripped through her. She’d cried, begged him to stop, that it hurt, and he’d never cared. He’d do it again, despite knowing she felt nothing but pain.

“No!” Scrambling, bucking, she fought in earnest. Great sobs ripping from her chest, it took her a moment to remember who she was with. Conn’s head jerked up, his gaze intense, all penetration stopped.

Conn.

“Ozymandias,” she gasped. “Ozy—”

He came up over her, his arms wrapping around her. “Shhh, darlin’. It’s alright. I’m here.”

But she didn’t want his arms. She didn’t want him to hold her and soothe away the fear screaming through her. He might coax her further next time. And for him, for Conn, she would go. She’d let him hurt her like Richard had, and then… She’d hate herself. And eventually him, as much as she hated her ex-husband.

“Let me up.”

“Rae—”

“You promised! I want to leave right now!”

What the hell had happened?

Teeth clenched tight, Conn let her get up, but every instinct bellowed at him to wrap her up tight against his chest and hold her until she told him what he’d done wrong. Obviously something horrific in her mind, because she twisted her wrists hard, ignoring the burn of silk.

He closed his hands over hers and softened his voice. “Shhh, hold on, darlin’. I’ll free you. Don’t hurt yourself.”

She held herself stiffly, her gaze averted, her body trembling. Her mouth was flat, her lips compressed, her cheeks splotched with dripping tears. Guilt and fear both churned in his gut. She couldn’t even look at him.

As soon as the scarf fell off, she dived for her dress and slid it over her head with trembling hands. If she walked out on him now…

He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he might never see her again. “We have to talk about this, Rae. I need you to tell me—”

“I don’t care what you need,” she retorted. Shaking her head, she frantically searched for her shoes. “This isn’t about you. This is about me. I have to protect myself.”

“You don’t have to protect yourself from me, Rae.”

Her sobs came louder. Bending down, she fished one of her shoes out from beneath the couch and laughed raggedly. “I don’t even remember taking them off. What else will I forget?”

His chest hurt so badly he couldn’t breathe. He reached for her, but she jerked back so hard she stumbled. If she’d only look him in the eye, he’d see the truth, whatever it was. She’d never been able to lie to him. Yet for the first time since he’d found her again, he was reluctant to know the truth.

If I lose her again…

Could he survive watching her run from him again? Could he bear to let her go if that’s what she wanted?

Cursing beneath his breath, he stood, holding his hands out at his side, fingers open, palms out, soothingly. “Rae, darlin’, look at me.”

She ran for the door. “No questions.”

Rushing after her, he slammed his palm on the door to keep it shut.

“I want to go!”

“Let me drive you. It’s dark.” Gently, he touched her back and she flinched, hunching away from him, even though all he did was help her zip the dress. She feared his touch. He’d lost all ground he’d gained in these past days. He’d failed the most important test of his life, and he didn’t even know the question which had sealed his fate. Despair made his voice rougher than he intended. “I’ll take you to Miss Belle’s. I need to make sure you’re safe.”

If only she would look at me!

Desperate, he eased closer, sliding his hand down her arm to pull her into his arms, but she skittered away. Shivering, she wrapped her arms tight around herself. She truly felt like she needed to protect herself. From him.

Fighting to keep his manner gentle and soft, he grabbed his black leather coat and dropped it over her shoulders. He murmured nonsense words to her, pleading with her to listen. If she’d close her eyes and feel the love in his voice, he could bring her back, but she refused to listen.

In her mind and heart, she’d already run.

He couldn’t survive another day without her, let alone an agonized stretch of years, wondering where she was, if she was alright, if he’d ever see her again.

As soon as he opened the door, she dashed for the car. She jumped inside and shut the door, her gaze locked away from his, her body rigid. One look, that’s all he needed. His fingers ached with the need to grab her and haul her against him. He knew she wanted him, needed his touch. She’d found pleasure in his arms.

How could they go from the hazed oblivion of pleasure to heartache so quickly?

Sliding into the driver’s seat, he turned to her. Silence had always worked before.

Eventually, she’d break. She’d tell him what was wrong. Staring at her face so pale and fragile in the moonlight, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t break her will, not this time. Vibrating with tension, she would shatter if he pushed her. If he violated his promise to ask no questions, to take her home when she’d asked, he would lose her forever. The proof was carved in her face wet with tears.

His eyes burned and his hands trembled on the steering wheel, but he forced himself to turn away and look straight ahead. “We will talk about this, but later. When you’re ready. I said I wouldn’t push you, and I won’t. You’re more afraid than ever, which makes me sorrier than I can ever say. Rae, please, whatever it is, I’ll work it out. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

She huddled lower in the seat, refusing to answer.

She needed space. She needed time. He’d sworn to give her whatever she needed, but damn it all to hell, he’d never thought it would be this hard. He never thought she’d truly want to leave. He slammed the Mustang into gear and drove. “Fuck.”

Even worse than her silence was that nagging sense of brittleness in her. Every dominant instinct he possessed told him to drag her back inside. He’d tie her to his bed. He’d torment her with pleasure until she begged to tell him what he’d done wrong. He could break this resistance, of that he was sure, but she might never recover.

In many ways, this was the harshest, grimmest test she could ever give him.

Could he truly let her walk away if that’s what she needed? If that’s what she wanted?

The few minutes to Beulah Land stretched in a painful eternal silence. Every second tested his control to the breaking point. If she might shatter, he would explode with worry, fear, and rage at himself that he’d scared her yet again.

She kept her hand on the door handle. As he rolled to a stop in front of the old house, she shook off his coat and jumped out, not waiting for him to park.

“Rae!”

Without looking back, she ran up the stairs to safety.

She ran from him.

Chapter Sixteen

Dear Dr. Connagher:

I finally learned how to say two very important things.

No, and fuck you.

I found my courage.

I told Richard no, and I meant it. I told him I wanted a divorce, and I meant that, too. I told him to get the hell out of my house, and he did. I told him I’d shoot him if he came back, and I will.

I will, Conn. I swear to God I’ll kill him if he comes back.

I finally realized I had let Richard ruin my life. I let him control me to the point that I don’t even know who I am any longer. I finally realized that nobody’s going to stand up for me but me. Nobody’s responsible for me but me.

Of course, now, it’s too late.

The signs were there all along, written here on the computer screen in countless letters to you.

The little bursts of violence, the temper, the grudges. It was the little things, things I didn’t even notice as I gave them up one by one. He didn’t like my TV show, so I quit watching it. He wanted to watch baseball all the time, so now we watch baseball. He didn’t like my dress

—sound familiar?—and so I changed.

I changed for him, killing myself a little bit every single day, and I didn’t even realize it.

I’ve been mad for so long, at him, myself, even at you all these years. It kept building up inside me, I guess, and this time, I exploded, and it was over the stupidest thing.

I don’t even remember what started it. But it finally dawned on me exactly how much I’ve given up over the years for him. I’ve let him run me and Daddy’s business both into the ground. The financial stress combined with Daddy’s medical bills has been killing me, literally. I’m afraid I’ll give myself an ulcer worrying about it all, killing myself taking extra jobs to finance Richard’s latest toys.

I finally saw it all, all the years of control and manipulation. I told him no. For the first time in our marriage. And I meant it.

It felt damned good.

As every argument we’ve shared in the past year, this one disintegrated to sex, and I told him no again. No, I don’t feel desire for him any longer. No, I don’t feel pleasure when we have sex. NO, I’m not going to let him hurt me anymore. I hate it.

I HATE YOU, I told him.

I couldn’t stop myself, just like that day in your office. I pushed his buttons, deliberately.

I pushed him over the edge. But he doesn’t have your formidable self control, Conn. You gave me a final over your desk and the best orgasm of my life.

Richard hit me.

No play acting, no seductive play, this was anger. I’ve got the bruises to prove it. He plowed his fist into my face and knocked me on my ass in the middle of my kitchen floor. All my weakness just disappeared. I jumped up and tore into him. I kicked his ass out of my house. I told him to go fuck himself, because he certainly wasn’t going to fuck me any longer.

Then I called the locksmith to come change the locks. I bagged his stuff and set it out on the porch. I called Mama and Uncle Frank and told them not to let Richard into Daddy’s office. And then I came in here and wrote to you.

I did it, Conn. I stood up for myself and said no. Now, I feel like crying, because out of all the people I’ve known in my entire life, it’s you I wanted to talk to. It’s your approval I want to earn.

It’s too late in many ways. It’s too late to save Daddy’s company. It’s too late to save myself. I’m ashamed how far I’ve fallen, all because I couldn’t say no.

Never again, Conn. I will never put myself in this kind of sinkhole again. I will never give up control of my life to another person.

Not even you.

~ Rae

She shut the bedroom door and leaned against it, shaking. Her face was wet, her neck, tears still dripping. At least that horrid whimpering sound didn’t come out of her throat any longer. She hated feeling weak.

“Are you hurt, Rae Lynn?”

Jerking her gaze up, she realized Miss Belle sat on her bed. Her faded strawberry hair was loose, hanging down her shoulders. Wrapped in an old-fashioned dressing gown, the old lady looked like she’d walked off the set of a Western or historical movie. She opened her arms.

Rae fell into them, sobbing.

Rocking gently, Miss Belle held her, humming softly under her breath. As her tears quieted, Rae listened to the lilting tune. Very Irish, she thought, about fairy rings and the Winter Queen.

“Better now?”

Nodding, Rae sat up, swiping her damp cheeks. “Thank you, Miss Belle. I’m sorry that I worried you.”

“Did he hurt you?” The old lady’s voice wasn’t hard or accusing, merely inquisitive.

“Think about it, Rae Lynn, whatever scared you. Did he really hurt you?”

She closed her eyes, shivering. She remembered his mouth devastating her, his fingers gliding deep. Her inner thighs were rubbed tender by his unshaven cheeks, but nothing hurt.

Even when he’d—

A wave of heat flooded her face, hot shame, even while ice dripped down her spine again. She shivered harder. “He didn’t hurt me. This time.”

“But you’re afraid he will next time?”

She nodded, staring down at her clenched hands in her lap. The old lady’s hand came under her chin, urging her gaze up.

“Someone hurt you. Badly. Yes?” When Rae nodded, the old lady’s eyes flashed and delicate jaws firmed. “Did Conn know you’d been hurt?”

She shook her head, trying to drop her gaze, but the old lady was insistent. “I hadn’t told him yet.”

“Why not?”

She swallowed hard, her eyes hot and burning. “I was ashamed.”

“Oh, my poor dear, why on earth would you be ashamed?” Miss Belle pulled her back against her breast, rocking her gently. “It’s not your fault someone hurt you.”

“It was my fault. I should have told him no.”

“Conn?”

“No.” Her voice was muffled against the old lady, but she didn’t sit up. She needed the comforting, even while she longed for Conn’s arms around her, his chest against her face, his heart beating beneath her cheek. “My ex-husband. I should have told him no. But I was too weak.”

Miss Belle made a low, harsh sound that drew Rae upright. “In my day, men who violated a woman’s trust were horsewhipped.”

A smile twitched on her lips. “Richard deserves it.”

“You’re far from weak, Rae Lynn, and you certainly deserve better than a cowardly bastard who abuses your trust.” Miss Belle locked her gaze on hers, refusing to let her hide.

“My grandson would never hurt you like that, or so help me, God, I’d take a horsewhip to him myself. And then Colonel Healy would set up residence in his house to torment him until he crawled on hands and knees to kiss your feet and beg your forgiveness.”

Rae laughed shakily, picturing it.

Miss Belle patted her shoulder. “So it’s not really Conn you’re afraid of. It’s yourself.”

Her laughter shut off, her throat strangled. Rae nodded jerkily. “I love him too much, Miss Belle. I’d let him do anything he wanted. Worse than Richard ever thought about doing.”

“But Rae Lynn, dear, think about it. Would Conn ever ask you to do such a thing? Would he want to hurt you like that?”

His face rose in her mind, his brow deeply grooved, his eyes hard, his mouth grim. He hadn’t been angry at her; he’d been angry at himself. Because she was afraid. He’d stopped, immediately, and tried to hold her. In a heartbeat, he’d gone from a smoldering, masterful lover to a concerned, apologetic man furious at himself for scaring her.

As soon as she’d given him the safe word, he’d stopped.

No. Before that. She remembered.

She’d told him no. And he’d stopped. Immediately.

I did it.

Remembering the look on his face, twisted with agony, regret, and self recrimination, she knew something else.

Hurting me is the last thing he wants to do.

Wide eyed, she stared at Miss Belle. “Oh.”

“Did you think a man like him would pine for five years over a chance encounter? He loves you more than breathing, more than the lovely poetry he’s studied nearly all his life. He would never knowingly hurt or scare you.”

Her stomach knotted and her lips trembled. The one thing he wanted most of all—her trust—she’d denied him by doubting him. He was probably worried as hell. “I should call him.

No, I’ll go to him. I—”

“No.” Miss Belle stood up, her eyes gleaming dangerously. A small smile curved her lips. “Tomorrow’s Saturday, your day off. I want you to go home bright and early to visit your family. I’m going to be busy with Samantha all day, poor dear, although I learned something very interesting last night at the bar. Make sure your daddy is okay. Give them your signing bonus check which I put on your dresser tonight.”

“Miss Belle. Do you really think I’m going to take your money after you set me up?”

The old lady smiled that wide shark smile, her eyes gleaming with amusement and determination. “Absolutely. You’re my project manager, Rae Lynn, and I’m opening this Bed and Breakfast, even when you and Conn get married and have a dozen babies. You’re still my employee. And I say my employee should take the weekend off as contracted. Give Conn a day or two to cool his heels.”

“Why?”

“Trust me, Rae Lynn.” Miss Belle glided toward the door, her smile dazzling. “Healy men are insufferably arrogant. A little consternation will do him a world of good. Besides, I need to win this bet.”

“Nobody said anything about marriage and babies,” Rae called after the disappearing old lady.

Miss Belle’s voice floated to her as ethereal as her dead husband’s ghost. “Don’t be so sure, dear.”

Rae woke up, listening. Faint light came through the window, barely dawn. She heard a car in the distance. Maybe that had awakened her. Six o’clock was much earlier than she planned to leave, but she wasn’t one for wasting time. Shrugging, she got up and showered.

Fingering the skimpy pieces of underwear Conn had bought for her, she closed her eyes, remembering his passion again. The stroke of his hands and tongue, the command of his body.

She’d come home without underwear again. That was the second pair of hers he’d claimed.

Full of regret and need to see him, to explain about last night, she chose somber black panties, a faded black Drury sweatshirt, and jeans. She grabbed a few spares of everything and tossed them into her suitcase. Miss Belle wanted her to stay the weekend, but she didn’t think she’d make it that long.

She wanted Conn’s arms. She wanted to bury her face against his chest and tell him the truth. Why she’d been scared. Why she wasn’t scared of him any longer. She trusted him. She really did. And she’d like nothing better than to run across the property and climb into his bed to tell him.

Sighing, she went to the dresser and stared down at the check for two thousand dollars.

Her family really did need it. She had done work for the old lady. After the way Miss Belle had comforted her last night, could she really be angry at the old gal for hunting her down and bringing her to Conn?

She folded the check and jammed it into her jeans pocket along with her keys. The purse Miss Belle made her carry—where was it? She remembered having it at Conn’s house. She must have left it there. Luckily it didn’t have much in it other than chapstick. And her cell phone. Shit.

And those letters on CD.

Now she was more tempted than ever to stop by his house. But the dogs would bark, and Miss Belle would bark the loudest. She was determined not to lose that stupid bet with her husband’s ghost.

And if Rae ended up at Conn’s house after last night… She couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t end up in his bed.

Tiptoeing downstairs and outside to her truck, she shoved the suitcase across the seat.

Brrr. It was definitely colder this morning. The trees would be changing color soon, pumpkins on the porch, corn stalks and hay bales in people’s yards. She couldn’t wait.

Something caught her eye. A sheet of paper lay on the floorboard. Picking it up, she scanned it.

Only one word was written on it.

Whore.

Hand shaking, she looked around wildly. The sound of a car driving away—who would have been up here? It had to be Richard. It was just the sort of mean, nasty thing she’d expected from him when she kicked him out. Why now?

The only reason she could think of was Conn. She hadn’t dated anyone until now.

What a dick. Let him show up. If she didn’t shoot him, maybe Conn would hack him up with his sword.

***

“I need your help.” Conn gripped the phone between his chin and shoulder, ignoring Mason’s sleepy groans and mumbles. Yeah, it was early Saturday morning, but they were supposed to drive to Joplin for a Renaissance Festival later today anyway. “Tell me how to get into my campus e-mail.”

“Who’s dead?” Mason shouted and something crashed so loudly that Conn winced. “Is Miss Belle alright? You know the ambulance can find that old barn without you risking the apocalypse by dipping a toe in the internet, right?”

He swallowed hard, fighting for control. His eyes burned from reading all night. He would’ve been riveted to Rae’s letters any day, but as soon as he’d found the CD in the purse that she’d left behind once again, he’d done nothing but read with a growing sense of dread.

He’d cursed so loudly he’d scared the dogs, laughed a few times, and yeah, he’d shed a few tears, too, although he’d never admit it to anyone but her.

If he ever found her again. “Rae left. The last time she ran, she e-mailed me and I never knew.”

“Oh, no, I’m sorry. I thought…” Mason cleared his throat. “I would have given you two a very high probability of living happily ever after. What happened?”

Again, nothing he could admit to anyone but her. “Can you help me?”

Of course, Mason, mathematician and numerical analysis programmer, could and did assist even the most computer-illiterate professor at Drury onto the internet, to no avail. She hadn’t e-mailed.

“Did you ever learn where she’d been?” Mason asked.

Conn flipped open his wallet and took out her business card. He’d already called her cell, but she’d left it in her purse here. That’s how he’d found the dainty white bag in the first place.

That purse was so unlike her, so utterly un-Rae. He should’ve insisted she toss the thing in the garbage and pick out her own purse instead of carrying around Miss Belle’s suggestion.

If he ever saw her again, he’d burn the damned thing himself. He’d burn that CD, too, watch it melt into a black pancake, and he’d hold her against his heart until every single dark memory had finally been blazed away by his love.

“I have her company name and phone number. I’ll start by finding out where her office is and backtrack.”

“Miss Belle—”

“I already asked her before I called you, but she was too busy rushing off to help her cook through her husband’s funeral today.”

In fact, Miss Belle had tartly told him he’d gotten exactly what he deserved, and then she’d shoved a pink parasol into his hands and demanded he give it to Rae and beg her to beat some sense into him.

He’d do so willingly, if she’d come back.

“You really do love her.” Mason didn’t sound pleased, though, not at all. His voice quivered, and if Conn didn’t know better, he’d swear his friend was gearing up for a monumental display of ire. The slow-burners were always the loudest when they exploded, as his father had testified. “I hate what she’s doing to you. You don’t deserve this, Conn. She’s got you running endless laps on a Mobius strip! You’ll never get to the other side, don’t you see?”

“I deserve it,” Conn said flatly. “I scared her. I hurt her. She was fully justified in running both times. But I refuse to wait another five years before begging her forgiveness.

Checking my e-mail is only the first of my penance.”

“I’ll be damned. I never thought the great Dr. Connagher who bemoaned the loss of true poetry in this weary world would ever join the twenty-first century. I’ll help you find her just to see if she can convince you to start a Romantic Poetry blog.”

“Balderdash,” Conn retorted, stealing Miss Belle’s favorite word. “By the way, I’ll have to cancel our demonstration today. So how do I find her?”

“Have you ever heard of Google?”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

Chapter Seventeen

Sitting on the deck with her family, Rae tried to keep her mind in the present, but she’d been on the same page of the book for at least an hour. Daddy sat beside her wrapped in a quilt, Mom beside him working a crossword puzzle. Uncle Frank and his entire family were coming for dinner in another hour or so, and the delicious smell of pot roast filled the air.

She smiled, remembering Miss Belle’s meatloaf.

Which only made her think of Conn.

Daddy’s hand settled on her arm, clutching her. “Dick.”

She jumped up to retrieve the shotgun in the house, but the approaching car froze her in place. She had no idea whether Richard still had his flashy SUV or not, but it was a black Mustang pulling into the drive.

She smiled reassuringly at Daddy. “It’s Conn.”

Jumping down off the deck, she raced around the side of the house.

Already parked, he pushed open the car door and stood, his gaze locked on her. He wore dark sunglasses so she couldn’t see his eyes, but his face looked rather grim. The groove between his eyes was heavily pronounced. Yet she didn’t stop. She ran straight toward him and slammed into his arms.

He clutched her hard against him, his arms squeezing off her air, but she didn’t care.

“Rae.” His voice was rough, his breathing ragged. “Darlin’.”

“How’d you know where I was?”

He set her down, firmly disengaging her arms from around his neck. Then he went to his knees in front of her and buried his face against her chest, wrapping his arms around her.

“Forgive me, please. I won’t touch you again until there’s not a hint of fear in you, I swear it. I won’t even kiss you. Just come back. Give me a chance.”

Stunned, she stroked her fingers through his hair. It tore her up to hear the emotion shredding his voice. Regret, agony, guilt. For a man like him to beg…

Then it hit her. He thought she’d run. Again.

“Conn, I love you.”

He made an agonized sound against her, his fingers digging into her back.

“I didn’t break my promise to you.”

Slowly, his head came up. She took the dark glasses away so she could see the thunderstorm brewing in his gaze. His face was so hard, lines and chasms put there by her.

Tears burning in her eyes, she stroked her fingers over his face, trying to smooth away the hurt. “I didn’t run.”

“You’re not at Beulah Land. You’re not in my bed.”

“Miss Belle told me to take the weekend off.”

Irritation flashed across his face. “The old battleaxe wouldn’t tell me a word. I finally had to call Mason and brave Google to find your address.” Shaking his head, he smiled. “You were coming back?”

“Of course.” She smiled back wobbily. “You actually got on the internet?”

“I even checked my e-mail,” he replied, his tone flat with disgust and self-depreciatory humor. Then his manner turned solemn once more. “What about last night?”

“I had a talk with her, and she helped me see things in a different light. I’m not afraid of you anymore.”

His face softened. “I found your purse when I called your cell phone. I wouldn’t normally go through your things, but I was desperate. I read your letters.”

“Oh.” Flushing, she dropped her gaze and swallowed hard. He knew everything, then.

Which was good, really, but she’d rather he didn’t know the truth. “I was afraid I’d be too weak to tell you no.”

“You won’t have to tell me no.” His fingers settled beneath her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “I will never hurt you like that. I won’t allow you to slip there, darlin’. I’ll hold you safe and unhurt, I swear it.”

“You don’t…regret it? That I can’t—”

“Absolutely not. The only reason I even tried it was because you needed to be filled up, tight, and well, that was the quickest way I could meet that need without breaking my word and opening my pants. I know better now.”

“Richard liked it.” Her voice was fragile, but she had to make sure. “If you—”

“I don’t need it. I don’t even want it. I want you, Rae, however you’ll take me.”

She frowned, worrying her lip. “I don’t like being afraid of anything, not even with you.

Especially with you.”

His hands dipped lower, gently kneading her backside. His mouth curved in that seductive little smile that said he was bad, so very bad. “As long as you don’t object to fondling,” he gripped her ass harder, pulling her pelvis tighter against him, “and the occasional spanking, I won’t ever touch you like that again. I won’t ever take you to that limit again unless we’ve discussed it thoroughly beforehand, outside of bed.”

She played with the collar of his white Oxford shirt, tempted to undo another button so she could kiss his chest. “I can live with that.”

His voice lowered to the slow, rumbling drawl. “However, if you decide someday that you want to rid yourself entirely of that fear, I’ll help you, slowly and carefully. With time and a great deal of care, I can make it not hurt, darlin’.”

Staring into his smoldering eyes, she thought maybe, just maybe, he might be right. She leaned down and lightly brushed her mouth across his. “So you were tempted to break your word, huh?”

“Hell yeah. I wanted to be inside you so bad I hurt. To hear you ask for me—” He shuddered, his hands convulsing on her butt again. “When you told me to take you to Beulah Land, it was all I could do not to drag you tight against me and hold you until you changed your mind.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. “I needed the time.”

“I know, darlin’.” He stood up and hugged her. “Take all the time you need. So Miss Belle knew all along that you’d worked things out in your mind, and she still led me around like a bull with a ring in my…er…nose. If she wasn’t my grandma, I’d be pissed. She even made me promise to give you this and beg you to use it on me.”

Forcing a solemn look on her face, Rae took the parasol and hefted it, testing its weight.

“Indeed. So if I whack you a few times with it—”

He bent back down to retrieve her stupid white purse she’d gone off and forgotten again.

“Just remember my promise to you, darlin’.”

Very deliberately, she slapped him on the ass with it. “I’m counting on it.”

Whirling around with a growl, he seized her hand raising the parasol for another strike.

“Miss Jackson, I expect you to report to my office as soon as we get home.”

“Yes, sir, Dr. Connagher.”

Yanking the handle out of her hand, he threw the parasol into the back seat of his car.

Eyes narrowed, he stepped in closer, holding her gaze while he slammed the car door shut.

She bit her lip, wishing she had a big mouthful of his muscled chest gripped in her teeth about now. “My, my, Dr. Connagher, you’re looking quite dangerous. Are you sure you want to meet my parents?”

“That depends.” In a flash, he picked her up, turned, and leaned her back against the car.

His thigh crept up between hers, higher, harder, until he pressed firmly into the vee of her thighs. “Are you going to come for me?”

“Right now? Here?”

He nodded, his eyes dark. His rock-hard thigh ground against her and her eyes rolled back into her head. Burying one hand in her hair, he bent her harder against the car and kissed her, tongue sliding deep, commanding her response.

And she gave it, willingly. It poured up out of her, sweet pleasure rolling through her, crashing like waves on the shoreline. He rumbled appreciatively and drew her up off the car.

Her legs trembled, so he wrapped his arm around her waist to help her walk.

“I still get to spank you.”

“That was the general plan,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing.

They walked up the front steps together, but Conn hesitated at the door. He leaned against the wall for a minute, dropping his head back. He let go of her completely and breathed deeply, eyes closed. “Give me a minute, darlin’. I don’t want to meet your father with a hard-on. If you love me, I could use a distraction.”

“Mom’s a much better cook than Miss Belle. We’re having pot roast, potatoes, and carrots. I’m not as good a cook as her, far from Samantha’s caliber, but I wouldn’t starve. I even made a cobbler.”

Uh-oh. Probably not the best topic. She rushed ahead. “Uncle Frank is coming with my aunt and younger cousin, Kari. She’s looking at colleges and I’ve been trying to get her to visit Drury. Maybe you can intrigue her into applying.”

“I’ll be happy to speak to her. What kind of cobbler did you make, darlin’?”

She winced. “Cherry.”

“Shit.”

***

Rae’s father might be a crippled invalid, but Conn recognized the hard gleam in the man’s eyes. His own father had possessed that iron inner core until the day he died.

She led Conn across the deck where both her parents sat. “Daddy, Mom, this is Dr.

Verrill Connagher, my English professor from Drury.”

Bending down, Conn took the older man’s trembling outstretched hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Jackson.” He looked back over his shoulder and winked at her. He couldn’t resist a little teasing, especially since she’d told them his hated first name. “I’m afraid I’m a rather demanding taskmaster, but she did well in my class. Rae is an excellent student. In many ways.”

She blushed so red she actually swayed. Her mother made a small noise—laughter, Conn thought, noting the brightness of the woman’s eyes—and covered her mouth with her hand.

Daddy squeezed his hand but didn’t let go. In fact, he tugged Conn down to look into his eyes. “Conn.”

He nodded solemnly.

“Love Rae?”

He let all the emotion blaze in his eyes. “More than life itself.”

In response, Daddy’s eyes hardened and he frowned. Conn felt a twinge of worry, until he realized the older man was simply concentrating very hard, struggling to speak. “Dick. Hurt.

Her.”

Conn let a smile twist his mouth that he knew betrayed his nice polite professor mask that he typically wore in public. “If Dick ever tries to lay a hand on her again, I’ll kill him.”

By the low, flat threat of menace in his voice and the hardness in his eyes, he knew both her parents understood that he meant it. Rae’s mother visibly relaxed, her eyes shining suspiciously. He could only imagine how much they’d worried that their asshole ex-son-in-law might try to hurt her again, and there was nothing they could do to protect her.

Daddy let go of his hand and patted his shoulder. “Good.”

“He’s back,” Rae whispered.

Conn jerked upright, turning to search her face. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering a little, so he quickly drew her close, offering the heat and protection of his body.

“He’s been harassing my parents, and this morning, I found a nasty note in my truck. I don’t have proof that it was him, but who else would bother me?”

“It’s him,” Conn agreed grimly. It sounded like he’d get his chance to teach the bastard a lesson in how to treat a woman after all. “Did you date anyone else after you divorced him?”

“No.”

He smiled at the adamant refusal in her voice and face. He’d read her letters; he knew who she’d been thinking and dreaming about all those years, which eased some of the vicious ache he’d carried in his heart. “That’s why he’s back. Don’t worry about Rae, Mr. Jackson. I’ll take care of the little p—”

He hesitated out of respect for her family.

Fortunately, Daddy knew exactly what to say. “Pussy.”

Conn choked back a laugh. “Well, I was going to say prick, but that’ll do.”

Chapter Eighteen

Dear Dr. Connagher:

My divorce was final today. It’s four years to the date since I was supposed to meet you.

Ironic, isn’t it?

Four years since I took your class, since I studied so hard for you. I can’t read poetry without remembering you. Four years since I tempted you to break that sacred student-professor relationship. But you didn’t, did you? Not you. You had too much self control to succumb to a twenty-one-year-old silly girl with a crush.

Four years since I took your final. Four years since that last day in your office. What would my life be like now if we’d met the next week like you planned? Would I be happy, knowing what kind of man you are, knowing what I know now? Would I sip coffee with you in the morning, smiling and kissing you goodbye, reading poetry to you at night—only to let you hurt and humiliate me in your bed?

Fearing you’d turn me into a happy little mindless slave, I escaped you, only to end up bitter and angry, trapped in marriage to someone as controlling as you. He hurt me, too, Conn, both physically and mentally. But he didn’t hurt me nearly as good as you.

Nobody has ever made me feel like you did that day. God help me, I still want you. I still need you.

Do you even remember me? I wish I could remember me. The blushing girl who came into your office that last day of the semester to flirt with you in a white mini-skirt. I’m going to try and find that girl again, but deep down in my heart, I know the truth. Richard killed her, and that Rae is long gone.

Grieve for her, Conn, because she died loving you. The biggest regret of her life was leaving you.

~ Rae

Stirring, Rae stretched, wincing at the kink in her side from lying over the console. It was worth it, though, to get her face on his chest.

“We’re almost there.”

She turned into his embrace, rubbing her face back and forth across his shirt. “You made quite an impression on my family, Dr. Connagher. Kari took one look at you at dinner and leaned over to ask me if you really were a professor. I think she’ll be searching for her very own hunky English professor very soon.”

His chest rumbled beneath her ear. “Hunky?”

“You’re far from the normal everyday sort of English professor. No tweed jacket. No pipe.”

“I do burst into poetry at the most inopportune moments.”

Yeah. Like when he was licking up the side of her thigh. “Otherwise, I’d never know you were an English professor.”

“No? Maybe you should see me sitting for hours wading through terrible Freshmen papers slaughtering poor Mr. Shakespeare.”

“I’d love to.” She tried to keep her voice light, but her heart felt swollen, filling her chest with longing.

“Well, Miss Jackson, I just happen to have some composition books stacked up on my desk. After I spank you for hitting me with that damned parasol, you can watch me torture myself to your heart’s content.”

He made the final turn toward Beulah Land, slowing the car.

“Keep going,” she whispered.

“Rae—”

“Take me home, Conn.”

He stopped in the middle of the narrow road, idling the Mustang before the iron gates.

Turning toward her, he cupped her face in both hands, staring into her eyes. “If you come home with me, I’m taking you to bed, and if I take you to bed, you’re staying with me. Miss Belle will have to find someone else to sleep in her guestroom because you’ll be sleeping with me every night.”

“Promise?”

His fingers tightened on her face, his eyes shadowed and dark. “Are you sure? Because if you’re sleeping with me, I’m going to want you to marry me, too.”

“I’ll have to think about that.” The narrowing of his eyes, the grim slant of his mouth made her laugh. “I don’t want to have to meet your mother.”

“Ah, darlin’, you just mention how many of my babies you want to have and Mama will turn to putty in your hands.”

“Miss Belle said something about a dozen last night, and that’d be a deal breaker for me.”

“We can get Mama and Miss Belle off my back later. Right now, darlin’, all I want is you. I want years of waking up with you beside me, beneath me, on top of me, wrapped around me.”

Her heart kicked harder in her chest. “Sounds good.”

He kissed her, a hard, quick claiming that left her breathless. Then he stepped on the gas and tore off toward the guesthouse. Silent, vibrating with tension, he drove through the night.

A heavy, restless ache settled between her thighs. The closer they got to his house, the more frantic her pulse jumped.

She started to put her hand on his thigh, but he growled at her.

“Don’t touch me, darlin’, or I won’t make it to my bed. This first time, I’m coming inside of you if it kills me.”

He slammed the gear into park and was out of the car, jerking her door open, hauling her out into his arms. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, kissing his neck, licking his ear, as he threw open the front door and strode toward the back of the house.

She heard the dogs barking, but they must have been outside.

Pulling her free of him, he tossed her on the bed. “Don’t move.” She started to sit up so she could take her shirt off, but he hissed a warning. “I mean it. Don’t. Move. A muscle. Not one.”

She could hear his breathing, deep and ragged in the room. He clicked on a lamp and continued to pace, running his right hand repeatedly through his hair.

It suddenly occurred to her how close he was to losing control. While she wanted him so badly she could cry, every instinct screaming at her to deliberately draw him close, she couldn’t break him like that. He’d never forget that the first time he’d made love to her, he’d lost control.

For a man like him…

If you love me, I could use a distraction.

Now she knew why he made her quote poetry so often.

“‘ Tyger! Tyger! burning bright/ In the forests of the night/ What immortal hand or eye/

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?’”

Halted in the middle of the room, his head fell back, eyes closed, and his breathing steadied. His hands were still clenched into fists, but she thought it was working. As long as she could remember more of the poem…

“‘ In what distant deeps or skies/ Burnt the fire of thine eyes?’ You know I’ve always loved the fire burning in your eyes.”

“Do you, now.” His voice was low, calmer, not vibrating to the point of shattering. “‘ On what wings dare he aspire?/ What the hand dare seize the fire? ’ Do you dare seize my fire, darlin’?”

“‘ And what shoulder, and what art,/ Could twist the sinews of thy heart?’” Her voice broke, shaking a moment. “You’ve twisted the sinews of my heart, Conn. I’ve loved you since that first day I saw you in the hall, saw the fire in your eyes, and I immediately ran to the Registrar’s Office and enrolled in your class. I loved you in class, your voice so sure, full of passion as you quoted Byron, Shelley, Blake. I’d never heard anything lovelier.”

“And in my office, darlin’.” Slowly, he unbuttoned his shirt, his gaze locked on her.

“What did you think about me in my office?”

“I loved you there, too, so much I was terrified. Terrified that I’d let you tie me up on your desk and spank me to your heart’s content. Terrified I’d strip my clothes off in class just to see the fire blazing in your eyes. I’d do anything you asked of me, or die trying. Even if that meant memorizing poem after poem so I could torment you tonight.”

Shrugging his shirt off, he tackled his jeans. “Torment me some more.”

“‘ And when thy heart began to beat,/ What dread hand? and what dread feet?’”

He laughed roughly. “You certainly don’t dread my hands.”

He bent over to untie his boots and kicked them off. She could hardly breathe for waiting to see him naked.

Finally, he eased his jeans and boxers down his thighs. Everything in her froze, locked down hard in a wave of raw lust. He was incredibly thick, and long, so long. Her fingers convulsed on the quilt covering his bed, aching to try and measure the girth and width of him.

Taking him in her mouth would make her jaws ache, and oh, to feel him sliding inside her, filling her up, tight and hard and thick—

Her heart exploded into frantic pounding, aching need pulsing through her. He made Richard look like a weenie. Literally. An odd little sound escaped her throat.

“Rae?”

She dragged her gaze up to his face, blinking to focus on his expression. Poor Conn. He actually looked worried. She choked again, trying not to laugh.

The canyon between his eyes deepened. “A man doesn’t like to hear a woman laughing the first time she sees him naked, darlin’.”

“Oh. Well. I was just—” She finally just let the laughter out. The more she laughed, the harder he frowned, which just made the giggles worse.

Growling, he stalked toward the bed, his eyes as cold as a winter sky.

It took all her will to remain still on the bed. Not because she was scared of him. No, she wanted to sit up, wrap her hand around him, and drag him down to her.

He seized her foot and jerked at the laces of her work boots. “Well? Do you care to explain your unexpected case of the giggles?”

“Is it impolite to compare you to an ex-lover?”

He gave her a rather cocky grin, which made her giggle again. “Not when I’m bigger.”

“Let’s just say seeing you made me think of Richard as a weenie.”

Conn laughed and moved to her other boot. “So I get to call him pencil dick now.”

“Pencil is too generous.”

Taking both of her ankles, he rolled her over, spread her legs wide, and jerked her down closer to him.

Staring up at him rising up over her, his thighs between hers, she made a low, ragged sound and clenched her hands into fists to keep from touching him.

“Good, darlin’. Don’t give me a reason to tie you up. As soon as I’m inside you all the way, you can touch me. I want you to, I need you to. Just not yet.” He reached down and undid the button on her jeans. “Quote me some more Blake while you take that sweatshirt off.”

Her stomach fluttered, her breathing coming faster as she squirmed to get the sweatshirt up over her shoulders and head. “‘ When the stars threw down their spears/ And water’d heaven with their tears/, Did he smile his work to see?’”

“I’ll smile if I get these jeans off and find you ready for me. Are you wet and hot, aching to feel me deep inside you? Cause if Dick was a pencil, you’re going to be tight for me. I need you slick and open.”

His words sank into her as surely as his fingers had tormented her. As surely as his tongue had stroked her. She raised her knees, lifted her butt, helping him all she could to get the denim off. She felt swollen and hot, restless and crazed. Every breath sounded loud in her head, echoing with a ragged moan.

He dragged her panties off with the jeans. “Get that bra off, darlin’. I don’t want anything between you and me but skin.”

With her thighs gripped in his hands, his body hard and muscled between her legs, she couldn’t get raised up enough to get both hands behind her back. Desperate little moans escaped her throat, her fingers frantic. Finally, she rolled over as far as she could and let him undo the hook for her.

Dragging her closer to the edge, he bent her knees back toward the bed, spreading her open wide. His jaws clenched tight, sweat beading on his chest, he let go of her thigh with one hand to guide himself to her.

“‘ Swift as a spirit hastening to his task,’” he whispered, his voice thick. He pressed into her, inch by inch. Her back bowed, her hands clawing at the sheet. Thick and wide, he stretched her impossibly, nearly painfully, but so damned good her breath sobbed out. He slipped his fingers down to help spread her outer lips apart better, his palm pressing against her to keep her flat on the bed. “Almost there, darlin’. I need to know your limit, whether you can take me all or not. How does that feel?”

She made a sound, strangled and desperate.

“That good.” He laughed roughly, shifting more of his weight onto the bed. “You are so tight. Shit. Don’t you dare come yet.”

Rae sucked in a breath, another, trying to ease the fullness straining through her. He hadn’t touched her at all, but climax did hover within her. Which shocked her. She’d never managed to climax with intercourse only. He hadn’t even moved within her yet. When he did—

Slipping a palm beneath her buttock, he lifted her hips, sliding to the hilt with a low groan. “Put your arms around me and hang on for dear life.”

She held on to his shoulders, wrapping her legs about his waist as he shifted them further into his bed. Every flex and pull of his body against hers was agony, delicious torture.

Easing them both back to the mattress, he simply lay with his full weight stretched out on top of her. She ran her hands up and down his back, his shoulders, burying her face against his chest to breathe in his scent. Leather mixed with musk and sweat. Heaven. “What are you waiting for?”

“For you to adjust to having something bigger than a pencil shoved inside you. I’ve nearly finished the first stanza of Shelley’s ‘The Triumph of Life’.”

“Trust me, I’ve adjusted.” Opening her mouth, she closed her teeth around a hunk of his pectoral, bit down until he growled and thudded deep inside her. Quivering, she released him.

“You’re not going to quote the whole thing, are you? If I remember correctly, it’s hundreds of lines long.”

“I’ve waited five years to be right here, darlin’. I’m not rushing it.” He cupped her face in both hands, tilting her mouth up toward his. “I’m not going to last long this first time. If you hadn’t helped me earlier, we’d be done already.” His thumbs stroked over her skin, his eyes swallowed in darkness. “Rae, I love you. I know I can be an insufferable bastard on occasion. I know I’ll irritate you, scare you, infuriate you. You’re going to want to run again, darlin’. As long as you run to me, I’ll meet you right here and fix whatever I’ve screwed up every single time. For you, I’ll make it right. Whatever it takes.”

Smiling, she trailed her fingers down his sides, stroking the delicate skin at the crook of his hips. “I thought I was the Fix-It Lady.”

“I’ll be Dr. Fix-It then.” He gave a little swirl with his hips that rubbed his full length inside her. Digging her fingers into his back, she shuddered, her breath catching on a moan.

His mouth came down to nibble at hers, and he slid his hands down her face, neck, shoulders, his grip firm as he pushed her arms up over her head.

Pinned flat, crushed beneath his weight, she felt the switch flip in her again. The switch that loved his control and welcomed his commands, every muscle melting in surrender.

Clenched tight, she ached with need. “Please, please—”

“Not yet.” From the dark rumble of satisfaction in his voice, he knew very well why she begged. Maybe it was her imagination, but he felt harder and longer inside her at her words. He ground his hips against her, thrusting a bit deeper to brush up against something inside her that nearly made her shriek with surprise.

Gasping, she arched her back, not sure if she liked that sensation or not.

“Ah, bet you’ve never had that sweet spot touched, huh?”

He slid his tongue into her mouth, light and shallow, teasing as he ground his hips in that slow swirl again. Electric shocks sparked through her core, tightening her down on him even more.

She jerked her arms, shivering and squirming beneath him. She needed more: harder, faster, deeper solid thrusts impaling her to the bed. Instead, she got that agonizing stroke.

Extreme sensation shot through her.

Using his own strength pinning her arms for leverage, she bucked harder beneath him.

She really couldn’t move more than an inch or two, not with his weight flattened against her.

But her little struggles excited him. He kissed her harder, his tongue plunging deeper, his breath panting into her mouth.

Shoulders rising above her, he shifted to his knees, a slow withdrawal that had her whimpering and babbling as inch after inch slid out of her. “Are you ready, darlin’?” His voice was guttural, sweat glistening on his chest. “I’m going to let go of you. When you come, I want either your teeth in me or you screaming my name, whichever you prefer. Don’t take too long to choose, though.”

He let go of her hands and buried his fingers in her hair on either side of her face.

Thumbs beneath her chin, he tilted her head back and pressed his mouth to her neck, his tongue wet, his teeth scraping.

Frantic, she slid her palms down his neck, his shoulders, reveling in his sheer power.

Muscles bunching, he thrust deeply.

“Conn,” she cried raggedly.

He filled her up, slammed deep, over and over, splitting her apart, devastating her, remaking her with every stroke. He threw his head back, muscles straining in his neck and shoulders. A shudder wracked his body against her. “Teeth. Now.”

Arching up, she gripped his throat in her teeth. She intended to be gentle, but he slammed home again and the dam broke. She bit harder, moaning around his skin, her fingers convulsing in his back as he pumped into her.

Five years. Five years of longing and lust. Five years of regrets and heartache. Five years of love. Shuddering, he collapsed against her. She wrapped her arms around his head and cried.

He’d thought nothing could scare him more than when she’d run up the stairs into Beulah Land without a backward glance, until he saw fresh tears on her face while he was still inside her. “Did I hurt you?”

She rubbed her face against his neck and chest. “No, no, I’m fine. I’m just thinking that this was five years too late.”

Relieved, he eased his weight off to the side and drew her against him, trailing his fingers gently over her flank. “Who knows what would have happened if you’d come to me that next week. You were so young, and I didn’t know what I was doing. I might have broken your trust in such a way that you’d never recover. I thought I might have already done such damage.

I hated every day that you were gone, but it taught me to hone my self control.”

Curling against him, she pressed her mouth to his skin, trailing her tongue in wet little swipes across his chest that sent hot ripples skating through his body. “You certainly know what you’re doing now. You knew then, too.”

Laughing softly, he buried his fingers in her hair and massaged her skull, holding her close. “What is it that I do that you like so much, darlin’?”

She propped her elbow on his chest and stared into his face, melting his heart all over again with the earnest seriousness gleaming in her eyes. “Every time you touch me it’s wonderful. I want to be with you. But when you hold me down and force me…” She shuddered, her eyes darkening. “You’re not making me do anything I don’t already want to do, but…” Her voice caught. “Oh, Conn, when you make me…”

He couldn’t help the rumble in his voice or the stirring in his groin. “I love making you, darlin’, as long as you remember the ultimate control is yours. You never have to tell me no; just give me your word if I’m thinking about something you don’t want to do. I will never force you into something you’re not comfortable with. Trust me, yes, but I’ve got to be able to count on you to tell me when to stop.”

Rubbing her chin against his chest, she stared into his eyes, the lamp sparking the fire in her gaze. “I will.”

A fine tremor shimmied through her and she swallowed. He wasn’t the only one ready for round two. He smiled slowly, letting his eyes blaze with heat. “After a shower, are you up for that spanking I promised you?”

Her eyes fluttered shut and she shivered harder. “When you’re done…”

Her tongue flicked across her lower lip, and it was all he could do not to drag her mouth to his so he could suck on both her lip and tongue. “Tell me, darlin’. What are you dreaming about in your mind?”

“I want…to take you…into my mouth.”

Clenching his jaws, he fought down the immediate surge of lust grinding his control to dust. He sat up, taking her with him, mentally repeating all the reasons she surely wasn’t ready to cross that bridge with him yet. He’d taken the edge off his aggression, sure, but—

She opened her eyes, heavy-lidded and dark with her need. “I want you to make me.”

Sliding his palm down her back, he gripped her ass firmly to make sure she knew what she’d asked for. He could not stop staring at her mouth, those luscious lips and wicked tongue he’d dreamed about for five years, along with the sweet curve of her buttocks. Spanking her ass fire-engine red, dragging her mouth to him…

He was not strong enough to refuse such temptation. Not when he’d dreamed of doing exactly that for five long years, and he’d read those same dreams in her letters.

Her back arched a little, pushing deeper into his caress. She draped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her mouth to his ear, tormenting him with her tongue. “Consider it your extra credit.”

Chapter Nineteen

Normally she enjoyed a nice long hot shower. She’d certainly dreamed about soaping up Conn’s magnificent body while his hands teased and tormented. Sex in the shower was a fantasy she’d like to explore. Someday.

But not with his threatening promise of what was coming afterward humming inside her.

Luckily, he wasn’t willing to linger too long in the shower, either. He was all business, the grim slant to his mouth and the grooves lining his face becoming more pronounced with each passing minute. She made the mistake of noticing his growing erection, and she spent the rest of the shower propped up against the wall, trembling, while he finished rinsing her off.

Hair dripping, she grasped the white fluffy towel with shaking fingers. She tried to keep her traitorous eyes from his body and calm her racing heart instead of panting like a runner in the final mile.

He took the towel from her, dried her off, and squeezed the excess moisture out of her hair. The gentle pulling at her scalp shot another surge of wetness through her core. Moaning, she closed her eyes. He slid his hand into her hair, fisting, tightening until she moaned again.

“Do you want to be over my desk in the study, or over my lap?”

“Lap,” she gasped. Just thinking about feeling him beneath her, rock hard and strong while he spanked her…

He laughed darkly and backed toward his bedroom, still gripping her hair. “I thought so.”

He flipped on the overhead light so he could see everything. Still gripping her hair, he led her to a large bay window containing a comfortable-looking chaise and small table. He sat down, dragging her hair so she went to the floor in front of him. Small pains, nothing more, but each little pull of her hair sent her heart racing ever faster. Her thighs were shaking, her inner muscles clenching desperately. What was the burning smack of his palm against her ass going to do to her this time?

Opening a drawer, he took out a scarf and released her hair. “Put your hands behind your back and lie down across my thighs. Touch me and I’ll give you more swats before I let you come.”

Staring up at him, she contemplated ignoring him. Seriously. If she leaned up and took him in her mouth right now, would he object? How could he?

He touched her cheek, drawing her attention from the sleek iron-hard curve up to his eyes. She trembled.

Storm-gray, his eyes blazed, his face heavily lined, his voice severe and hard. “Don’t even think about it, Rae.”

She scrambled to her feet and put her hands behind her back. Edging closer to him took courage, courage she didn’t think she’d have. If he’d smiled or winked teasingly, she wouldn’t have doubted him, but he remained fierce and silent. Quite honestly, he scared her, just a little.

Which sent another wicked surge of need pulsing through her.

Shaking, she awkwardly leaned down over his thighs, trying to hold her hands behind her back without losing her balance. Legs like granite beneath her, his erection digging into her stomach, oh, God, it was torture, agony. So close, but so far away. She wanted to turn and slide to the floor between his knees and take him deep into her mouth, bite his thigh, something. Anything except lie across his legs so obediently.

He wrapped the scarf around one wrist and then the other, winding the silk up her forearms until her shoulders strained. Not pain, exactly, but she definitely wouldn’t forget that she was bound. He gave a little jerk on the scarf, lifting her arms just a bit higher so she flinched and squirmed.

“If you weren’t afraid of me, darlin’, you wouldn’t be so turned on. You respect and believe in my power over you. Remember when Dick wanted to tie you up? Were you scared of him?”

“No.”

“You laughed, didn’t you? Did you think he’d spank you to climax when he had you tied up?”

“I didn’t come at all that night.”

“Until you dreamed about me.” He purred in that rumbling gravelly voice that sent shivers down her spine. “Power, darlin’. I have the power to control you completely. Why?

Because you’ve given it to me.”

Without warning, he slapped his palm against her ass, catching both cheeks at the same time. Her breath whooshed out and she thrashed awkwardly. With a little tug on that scarf, though, he immediately stilled her. Another slap, this time centered on one cheek, then the other. Firm and strong and sharp.

Arms aching, she blinked, trying to focus her watering eyes. Last time, he hadn’t started nearly this fast. This confidently. As though—

As though he knows this is what I want.

Which was exactly true. He’d been a lot gentler with the shy, unsure student bent over his desk.

Her ass burned, heat flaring deep inside to parts he hadn’t even touched yet. She felt the moisture gathering, the aching burn spreading, demanding his attention.

“Do you feel that tingling between your thighs, darlin’?” He gave her the sharpest crack yet, and her buttock stung fiercely. She squirmed harder, tears escaping, even while she throbbed with need. His palm slid over her skin, soothing the burn, and she moaned out loud.

“Are you going to hit me with that damned parasol again?”

I can’t lie…

He slapped her, both cheeks, again, in rapid succession. “I asked you a question, Rae.”

“Yes! Yes, I’ll hit you again! If you gave it to me right this minute, I’d beat you over the head with it!”

Chuckling, he slid his fingers between her folds, trailing teasingly along the edges of her sex. Her legs fell open on a ragged groan, but he didn’t stroke her to relief. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say. That ensures I’ll get to spank you again.”

Arm rising and falling, he spanked her until she sobbed. Until her backside was a welt of heat that stabbed deeply through her core in an aching frenzy of need. Until she bit her lip and moaned and kicked, not caring about the pain in her shoulders.

“It’s okay to yell at me, darlin’. I like it when you struggle.”

“Bastard, dirty son of a bitch, Verrill! I’ve had enough!”

His hand crashed down at the very curve of her cheek where her ass met thigh. She lurched up, gasping, and his forearm ground between her shoulder blades. “Now, now, darlin’.

When you’ve had enough, you know exactly what to say, and it certainly isn’t Verrill.”

“Conn, please,” she whispered, shaking from head to toe.

“That’s real sweet, darlin’. I like to hear you beg, too.” His hand descended again to the other curve. “Your ass is almost cherry red, so pretty. Maybe later tonight you’ll let me lick and soothe all that sting away.”

“Please,” she whimpered, shifting on his thigh to try and grind herself against him.

“Please, Conn, please!”

“What do you need, darlin’?”

“I need you. Please!” His erection throbbed against her stomach and she wailed, throwing her head back and struggling in earnest.

He plunged two fingers into her but didn’t thrust, swirling his fingers against her inner lining. Twisting his hand, searching for exactly the right spot, he stroked until she twitched.

“Ah, there it is.”

He repeated that deliberate stroking, fingers gliding gently over that spot deep inside.

Clenched tight, humming with need, she couldn’t breathe. Her lungs shut down, her ears buzzed with static, her heartbeat thundered in her head.

“You know what I want you to say.”

His voice sounded far away, soft and gentle, flowing on a breeze. A vicious cramp seized her, and she tried to escape it. Too much, too hard, it would kill her. Grind her to nothing.

Leave her tossed and helpless to drown in an ocean of need.

“It’s okay, darlin’. Let go. I’ve got you.”

So gentle, so safe, so full of love. She heard it in the magical tones of his voice, low and vibrating deep inside her. She let herself go limp, completely surrendered to whatever he did.

Orgasm swelled within her, larger, darker, a swelling wave that seized her, dragged her down to the depths of the ocean and pinned her there. Crushed beneath that onslaught, she whispered, at least in her mind. “Conn.”

***

“Rae?” His hands worked at her wrists, unwinding the silk. Her fingers tingled. The scarf came off and her arm fell. She felt it brush his knee, a torturous caress, and then her fingers dangled in her vision. She was upside down, which confused her. Until she realized her face was within breathing distance of his calf. Just a little shift, and she could get her mouth on him. She leaned—

He hauled her upright, cradling her against his chest. “Rae? Come on, darlin’. I need you to speak to me.”

“Mmmm.”

He tilted her face up, his brow creased. “There’s my darlin’. You went a long ways away, didn’t you?”

She tried to smile, but her face sagged, terribly tired. Lassitude rocked gently back and forth inside her, warm lapping waves tickling through her body. She was still a long ways away, she thought. Some distant shore she’d never been to. A forbidden paradise island, with her dark-eyed fierce warrior, naked and erect, striding toward her through the wilderness.

He must have seen that shore in her eyes, because his mouth firmed into a hard slant. He fisted his right hand back in her hair and pushed her to the floor between his knees. The only thing holding her up was his hands, one in her hair, one cupping her face.

“Open your mouth.”

On a low groan, she did so, her eyes dropping to his cock as he drew her near. He rubbed the head lightly against her mouth, circling her lips.

“Wider, darlin’. I’m bigger than Dick, remember?”

Stretching her mouth open wide, she let him pull her mouth forward. It was like swallowing down a sword fresh from the forge, hot and sizzling from the flames. In this distant fuzzy paradise, she had no defenses against him. As big as he was, she wouldn’t be able to breathe if he thrust too deeply. He could slap her, beat her, turn her around and sodomize her like her ex-husband had done, and nothing would hurt.

Not until tomorrow.

And she wasn’t afraid.

By the darkness in his eyes and grooves in his face, he knew it. He relished the control, her helplessness, her trust in this moment of utter vulnerability that he wouldn’t hurt her. This was his ultimate fantasy, to take her mouth, testing his control and her trust that he wouldn’t go too far.

He tasted like soap, so clean, and just a hint of salty musk at the tip. She couldn’t move her arms, but she could damned well move her tongue. Watching his face, she swirled her tongue against him, tracing the slit, sliding underneath the crown. He paused to let her torment him, his face darkening, his eyes blazing sapphire.

She felt a wicked spark through the haze of pleasure he’d fogged through her mind.

Boundaries, he always talked of boundaries. This was his boundary, his test, his trigger point.

If it was his job to test her limits, shouldn’t she test his, too?

Could she make him lose that fierce control?

Tightening her lips around him, she sucked and licked until a muscle in his cheek ticked.

Pressing deeper, slowly, he breathed out heavily as she sucked him down, tightening her mouth until her jaws ached. She scraped her teeth lightly as he drew back, and his breath exploded out, his fingers digging into her face. He quickened the pace, his chest heaving, mouth parted on each breath.

Rock-hard satin in her mouth, she tried to tell him with her eyes what she wanted.

Make me. Make me go all the way. Don’t pull me back. Make me.

His arms corded, tendons standing out in his neck and shoulders. He groaned her name and thrust deeper, arching his hips. Almost too much, too deep, closing her throat off one second, two, and then he pulled back enough to let her breathe. Even in his release, he kept his eyes open, watching her face, making sure she was okay. He never violated that boundary.

She took him, drank him down, shuddering with every pulse of his body.

Drawing away, he pulled her up into his arms. “Damn, Rae, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life.”

She nuzzled deeper into his neck, but her arms were still too lazy and limp to wrap around him. Flipping the lights off, he settled into bed with her tucked against him, pulled a blanket up over her, and pressed soft, gentle kisses across her face.

“Were you thinking what I think you were?”

Sleep sucked her down, but she managed to whisper, “Make me.”

Chapter Twenty

Dear Dr. Connagher:

I’ve never been one to share my darkest secrets with anybody, yet I can’t stop writing you these letters. I’ve told you things I’ve never told anyone.

Maybe it’s because you saw me like nobody’s ever seen me before. Without removing a single item of my clothing, you tore me down to bare naked emotions. You saw me, really saw me, didn’t you? I couldn’t hide anything from you.

I certainly couldn’t hide how much I needed you.

When I lost you, I felt broken inside. I mourned for you. I thought I’d never be whole again. I forced myself to date Richard in a stupid vain hope to fill that emptiness. I needed to not feel alone, even if he wasn’t you. I thought we could make it work.

Yet that was my greatest mistake of all. I never needed him like I still need you.

After all these years, this need gnaws in the back of my mind, every day, swallowing me like a great black hole. It’s a monstrous, consuming need. Here I am, years after that day in your office, still writing you. Still needing you.

I’m messed up, Conn, I know it. I’m terrified of losing these dreams, because it’s all I have left.

I think about contacting you. I even pick up the phone and begin to dial your office number (yes, I still remember it by heart), and alarm bells start going off in my mind. What if I’ve simply built up my memory of you to impossible heights? What if it was all in my head, embellished and fabricated over the years? Surely I couldn’t have felt so much that day on your desk. Surely I didn’t need you so badly.

What if you don’t even remember me? What if you’ve moved on, as I tried to do?

What if…you never needed me at all?

It would destroy me to see you again and learn that all these letters, all these years of missing you, had been a complete and utter waste. If you thought that day in your office was a mistake. If you looked at me with those incredible blue eyes, saw how much I ache to be consumed by you, and turned away.

I don’t want to be nothing but a needy, weak burden for you to bear.

And so I hang up the phone.

~ Rae

Two warriors were trying to beat each other to death with swords, and Rae couldn’t tear her gaze away.

All right, so the “two warriors” were actually Conn and his friend Mason, tricked out in leather pants and white linen shirts hanging open with laces at the collar, but the swords were real. The incredibly loud clang of metal on metal was real, too. She didn’t know how sharp the blades were, but Conn’s sword was so heavy she’d barely been able to lift it. She couldn’t imagine how much they must have practiced in order to be able to swing the swords around so long and hard.

Despite the hint of fall color in the leaves, the day had warmed to a lovely Indian Summer golden haze, so both men dripped sweat. When they finally stopped the demonstration and bowed to the crowd, the watchers clapped enthusiastically. Even the Queen of the Fair inclined her head with approval.

Beer and wine flowed freely, and some of the people were rather unsteady on their feet.

Not good when one rather large woman in a tightly laced—bulging—corset nearly toppled onto the Queen’s Joker. Snickering, Rae turned away. She couldn’t believe some of the costumes these people dared to wear. Maybe she could talk Conn into those extremely tight tights and cod-piece next time.

Nah. He looked too good as the barbarian warrior on the rampage.

He and Mason made their way over to Rae, grateful for the cold water bottles she’d picked up at the concession stand.

Swiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Conn asked, “What’d you think?”

“Impressive, Dr. Connagher. Very impressive.”

“You should see him with the katana instead of the claymore.” Mason slapped him on the back grinning ear to ear. “He’s poetry in motion.”

Conn snorted. “Dr. Poetry in Motion is sweating like a pig in these leather pants. Excuse me a moment while I change.”

Leaning closer, she inhaled his scent, all dark sweaty warrior. She made a low sound of approval in his ear. “Need some help?”

He winked at her and slung the duffel bag strap over his shoulder. “I don’t want to get kicked out of the fair for tossing innocent bystanders over my shoulder. Try to keep Mason out of trouble for a few minutes.”

Conn walked off to find an empty restroom stall, leaving Rae standing rather awkwardly with his best friend. Mason cleared his throat, apparently just as uncomfortable. With a little smile, she moved over to the nearby stall of goods. Most of the crafts were nice, but not really her thing, although she’d already spent a nice chunk of cash on an incredible hand-made leather purse she’d seen earlier. As roomy and large as a saddle bag, maybe she’d stop forgetting it.

This vendor was selling stained glass, everything from butterfly plant-pokes to incredible window inserts grand enough for a cathedral.

Or a front door at Beulah Land? “Do you accept commissions?”

Smiling, the man nodded. “Sure do. We also have classes here in Joplin and in Springfield. We have a beginners’ class starting up in two weeks.”

A class in stained glass. She never would have considered it, but now…it seemed right.

She’d love making something to fix Miss Belle’s front door. In fact, she knew exactly what elements to include in the design. She picked up a class schedule and dropped it into her new purse.

She’d ask Miss Belle first, but she couldn’t wait to start.

Mason had trailed after her rather sheepishly. Trying to put him at ease, Rae asked, “How many students do you have at Drury?”

His mouth turned down morosely. “They gave me four sessions of Calculus I this year, so over two hundred.”

Inwardly, Rae shuddered. She’d only taken college algebra and that had been hard enough. “Is that bad?”

“It means I have a great many freshmen this year, very young and very foolish.” He nodded his head in the direction of a group of rowdy drinkers. “The most important things on their minds are beer and laws of attraction with the other sex.”

“I thought calculus was rather advanced.”

“It depends on the major. We have a lot of architecture students at Drury, and calculus is required very early in their program. In some ways, we use it to weed them out. Sad but true.”

He looked at her a moment, cocking his head slightly. “I must admit, when Conn told me years ago that he was interested in a student, I could hardly comprehend it. Most semesters he has as many Freshmen Composition classes as my calculus sessions, which means young and immature students. I didn’t think a first or second-year student would be able to hold his interest, but I was wrong.”

Rae felt a blush creeping over her cheeks, and her stomach knotted uncomfortably. She’d always felt like a shy, naïve idiot in his class, especially when she’d learned she’d stumbled into a senior-level English class, although she could certainly use the credits. “I didn’t mean to cause him any problems on campus.”

“Oh, no, no problems. I teased him unmercifully about being Dr. Perfect, so a little temptation to walk on the dark side was good for him. I’d never seen him fall for any woman, let alone a student. I thought he was a mess five years ago, but when he called me yesterday morning because you were gone…”

Mason gave her a hard look that oddly made her like him more. He’d been Conn’s friend much longer than she’d known him, and Mason obviously cared for him a great deal. “I didn’t run out on him again.”

Mason nodded. “He said it was a misunderstanding, but I realized something, Rae. I realized he loved you as much as I loved Julie. Losing you would destroy him.”

Unsure what to say, Rae moved slowly to the next stall of jewelry. Neither Conn nor Mason had commented about that night they’d picked him up from the bar and Miss Belle had played medium. The memory of that otherworldly feeling in the car still gave Rae chills.

“Actually, I’m very glad you’re back in his life, Rae. It’s too easy to get bogged down in exams and office hours, grading endlessly, preparing lectures, spending all our time with students. Every year it seems we must do more, teaching just one more class to help the college meet its needs. It’s easy for even caring deans like Strobel to take advantage of dedicated teachers like Conn. He needs a life away from campus and the constant demands of teaching.

You’ll be good for him.”

She tried to smile, but a nagging doubt bothered her. In many ways, Conn was still the teacher and she was his student, his teacher’s pet as that hateful Miss Barrak had accused.

What if their entire relationship was skewed because she’d started as his student? Would she have ever considered letting him spank her if he hadn’t been her teacher first, or vice versa?

She didn’t know. She couldn’t imagine him any other way. She couldn’t imagine feeling any other way about him, ever needing him less. As much as she’d struggled to deny it, she needed his dominance, his control and strength of will. Her ass was still tender from his attentions and she’d felt an odd sort of pride walking about today, the tight denim a constant reminder of what he’d done last night.

How much she’d enjoyed it.

But what if he tired of playing that teacher role with her? Dread tightened her throat and her stomach churned. No matter what Mason said, she was suddenly very afraid she’d never be more than Dr. Connagher’s pet.

“You even got him on the internet, an impossible feat to be sure.” Mason laughed and leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “If you really want to tease him, ask him to set up a poetry blog. I can’t wait to see his reaction.”

Rae forced a smile for Conn as he joined them, but she couldn’t push the seed of fear away. In fact, that seed sprouted and grew with each passing moment. From the very beginning five years ago, she’d feared needing him too much. She’d been afraid she wouldn’t be able to tell him no. She’d killed herself studying for his class, desperate to please him. A bad grade from him would have devastated her. Failing his class hadn’t been an option, no matter how much she had to study.

Now, though, she faced a test for which there was no study guide. What if he graded her and found her lacking?

***

“You’re awfully quiet,” Conn said, glancing at her quickly and turning his attention back to the road. “Did you have a good time?”

“It was a blast,” she replied softly, her throat constricted with worry. The grooves in his face deepened and he shot another look at her, this one sharper. “I have something I need to ask you. Something serious.”

“Okay.”

“Are you…sure? About me?”

He laughed. “Every time I think about last night, I’m sure.” He glanced at her, and he wiped the amusement off his face. Grimly, he pulled over to the side of the freeway, slammed the Mustang into park, turned his hazards on, and then turned fully to face her. “What happened, Rae? Did someone say something to upset you? Why on God’s green earth would you doubt us now? So soon?”

She forced a laugh, fighting not to cry, and twisted the strap of her new hand-sewn leather purse in her hands, tracing the laces. “Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about last night, and wondering…” She shrugged, tightening her grip on the leather. “I mean, that was pretty extreme. You’re not going to want to…to…every night.”

“The hell I won’t. If you need me to spank you every fucking night I will. Gladly.” His voice growled out, and he cupped her chin none too gently, jerking her face around. He held her, squeezing tighter until she met his blazing eyes. So blue, so fierce. “Is that what you need, Rae? You need me to spank you here and now?”

“It’s not about that at all.” His grip was brutal, so she pushed her heartache to anger.

Anger was much easier to deal with. “You can’t spank me and take me to bed and think everything’s going to be okay.”

“Let’s see, shall we?”

“No.” After worrying for so long that she couldn’t refuse him, she felt a grim, cold lake spreading within her as soon as she said it. He didn’t release her, so she pushed across that lake, slipping and sliding toward an endless maw of dread. “Ozymandias.”

He jerked his hand away as though her face seared the flesh off his fingers. Her heart splintered, shards of ice piercing throughout her body. He’d done exactly as he promised. So why did she feel like she was dying inside?

“I can’t…” Her voice quivered, but she kept a tight grip on her face and hands. She would not cry. She would not throw herself into his arms. She wouldn’t dissolve into a needy immature mess that he had to mop up on his way to the university. “I can’t do this.”

His face sagged. His breath rushed out on a sigh as though a linebacker had blind-sided him and pile-drove him to the ground. “Rae. Darlin’. I don’t understand. If you’re afraid again…”

“I’m not afraid.” Of anything but turning into a co-dependent addict in your bed.

“Then what?” He looked so bewildered and tragic that she couldn’t help bursting into tears. Still, she kept her hands clutched on that purse, refusing to touch him. “I’ll do anything, Rae. If you need to stay with Miss Belle for awhile, I understand. We’re moving fast, I know. I just… I love you, Rae. I want you so bad I can’t see straight.”

“You…deserve…better.” She gulped in a deep breath and jumped headlong into the icy dark water turmoiled in her heart. “I’m a mess, Conn. I’ve never done this before. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m falling apart our very first weekend together and I’m afraid I’ll drag you down.”

He made a low growl of protest, so she threw her hand up to silence him. If he interrupted her, she might never get it all out.

“I am dragging you down. I need too much. I’m a basket case already and you shouldn’t have to…to…babysit me each and every night because I need this or that and I don’t even know why!”

She gulped hard, trying to dislodge the boulder crushing her chest. “You’ll get bored eventually. Right now it’s a game, playing teacher’s pet, but you’re going to get tired of dealing with my insecurities and fears. You’re too much of a man to be stuck with a whiny wimp like me. I’m a doormat, Conn, and I always will be. I’ll always need—”

“God, I hope so.” His low voice thrummed in the tight confines of the car, tight with intent but not angry. Silence thickened, driving her to meet his gaze. His face had softened from the tight chasms of worry. He didn’t touch her, but he looked at her with such emotion, raw and honest and fervent, with so much love it took her breath away. “I hope you’ll always need me, Rae. Is that what you truly think of yourself? Do you think that needing me makes you weak?”

She shook her head. “Needing you to…control me. Taking command, dominating me, spanking me, whatever you want. That makes me weak. I’ve never had a will when it comes to you.”

He closed his eyes a moment, a fine tremor in his shoulders. When he spoke again, his voice had thickened, telling her his pulse had skyrocketed with her words. She was trying to warn him off, and she’d merely succeeded in arousing him. Fiercely, judging by the blaze in his eyes.

“You couldn’t be further from the truth, darlin’. Don’t you know that you make me the man I am? You challenge me to grow into the man I can be, always pushing, always exploring new boundaries. Not just yours, but mine. You trust me to take care of you, to take you to the limits of what you can comfortably endure, always trusting me to take you back safe and sound. Do you think just anyone could trust me like that? Can anyone else test me like you?

“For years, I dated ‘normal’ women and tried to hide what I was, but it never worked out. I was miserable, living a lie and pretending that I was happy, when inside this great yawning pit of need grew and grew and grew. You fill that pit, Rae, you fill me to bursting. I don’t have to hide from you. You’ve already seen my worst, and even more amazing and wonderful to me, you enjoyed it. For the first time in my life, I don’t resent my needs. Truth is, if I were anyone else, safe and boring like Dick, then you wouldn’t need me so much. You need to equal my need, darlin’. We’re matched in that regard. So if you’re a needy doormat, then I’m a needy asshole who’s going to cry like a baby if you send me packing.”

She searched his face, struggling to contain the hope bubbling up inside her chest. “But

—”

“I need you, Rae, exactly the way you are. If that means spanking or cuddling, yelling or wrestling, going to bed or simply holding hands on a walk, we’ll do it. Because meeting your need fulfills my need. Loving you fulfills me completely. If you don’t let me take care of you, my own need will just eat me from the inside out like a black hole.” Gently, he cupped her cheek in his palm and brushed his thumb feather-soft over her lips. “Need me, darlin’. The more you need me, the happier I’ll be.”

She gave him a shaky smile and let him brush her tears away. “Then you must be one happy man because I need you so much I can’t breathe, I can’t think, for wanting you.”

“The happiest man alive,” he agreed solemnly.

Burrowing into his arms, she clutched his shirt and breathed his scent until the fear of losing him subsided. “I’m afraid I’ll fail you, Conn. I won’t be enough to keep you interested.”

He choked back a laugh and smoothed her hair. “Darlin’, I’m so interested I feel like a stallion breaking down his stall to get to the mare in heat.”

“The sex is great, yeah, but what about everything else? Your job, my job, our lives… I don’t want to only be your teacher’s pet.”

“I want to be in your life no matter what that means, and this teacher wants to pet you all over, forever, the rest of our lives. If that means quitting Drury so I can shingle a roof with you all day, then I’m there.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she protested miserably.

“I know, darlin’.” He tipped her face up to his but he didn’t kiss her. They shared the same air, breathing in each other’s exhale until she felt dizzy. Without stripping a single item of clothing, he was inside her, penetrating her, possessing her. “As long as we’re together, I don’t care what happens. We may live here forever, keeping Miss Belle out of trouble. I hope you’ll finish your degree at the college of your choosing. We’ve got the rest of our lives to decide what we’re going to do. We’re in this together, no matter what lies ahead. Who knows, maybe we’ll move back to Texas.”

“Oh, no, don’t even go there.” Rae pulled back, letting mock horror—that wasn’t so fake when she thought about living anywhere near his mother—fill her face.

He smiled but didn’t laugh, sliding his hand down to grip the back of her neck and hold her close. “Are we okay, then?”

“Yeah.”

The last bit of tension bled out of him. “Good Lord, Rae, you nearly gave me a heart attack. You’ve given me the most priceless gift of all. As long as you trust me not to hurt you…”

“I do trust you. Completely.” A thought flickered across his face, and although he didn’t speak of it, the muscle in his cheek ticked. She knew exactly what he was thinking. “Yes.”

Shaking his head, he turned the key in the ignition and the Mustang’s powerful motor purred to life. “You don’t even know what I was thinking about, darlin’.”

“You were wondering if I trust you enough to let you tie me to your bed.”

“How did…” His hands opened and closed hard repeatedly on the steering wheel. “Are you sure?”

“The night we made out on your couch, you said the only thing that could make it better was if I was tied to your headboard. I just ask—”

“Anything,” he replied immediately, whipping his head around to search her face.

“Don’t make me laugh like Richard did.”

A slow smile curved Conn’s lips, a heavy-lidded arrogance and barely veiled aggression that sent chills down her back and moistness between her legs. “If you laugh, darlin’, it’ll be because I told you to.”

Chapter Twenty-One

“If you get a ticket—”

“It’ll be worth it.” Gripping the steering wheel so hard he feared it might crack, Conn concentrated on regulating his breathing. When his voice wasn’t rumbling with aggression, he continued. “We need to set some ground rules. First, I want you to know that I will never tie you up and then leave you. Never, not for any reason, will I leave the room when you’re helpless. At any time, give me your safe word and I’ll get you out of whatever I’ve used.”

“Okay.”

The tremor in her voice was faint, but enough to send his blood pumping harder. “I have a box under my bed that I’ve been accumulating the last few years. It—”

“Did you use those things on other women?”

Arching a brow at the surprisingly vicious tone in her low voice, he glanced over at her.

She met his gaze without looking away, although her cheeks did color slightly. Her eyes flashed and she bristled with jealousy and righteous determination. She was more than willing to go to battle over using hand-me-downs of any sort.

He let his mouth quirk with approval. Finding her limits intrigued him, and he’d just found one. “Anything I used with other partners was given to them a long time ago. Every once in a while, I’d stumble across something that made me think of you, and I bought it for the box. Then I’d lie awake night after night dreaming what it’d be like if I ever had the chance to play with you.”

She gulped. “What…what kind of things?”

He smiled wider, letting his eyes burn with heat. “All sorts of things. However, I don’t want you to freak out. We’ll always talk about any new items in advance to make sure you’re never surprised or afraid. Some items are not for play, like the knife. I’m not into cutting or threats of real danger like that at all. The knife is purely for safety, and I’ll set it on the nightstand by the bed. If there’s an emergency, you have a panic attack, anything that tells me you need out of your bindings urgently, I’ll cut you free. That’s the only use the knife has.”

“Okay.” She swallowed hard, her eyes rather wide. “What sort of ties are you going to use?”

“What’d Dick use that time?”

Her mouth flattened, twisting like she’d eaten something bitter. “Dog collars and cables some people use to chain their dogs up.”

Bastard. If there’d been an emergency, how could he have cut her free of metal? “How’d you feel about that, darlin’?”

She turned and stared out the window. “I hated it. It was cheap, stupid crap he picked up at the hardware store on the way home. He didn’t put any thought into it. He didn’t really care about what it felt like. How I’d feel, staked out like a dog, especially when I know how much he hates them.”

From her letters, Conn knew the heartache and guilt she’d felt when she’d given up her dog. Wishing he could beat her inconsiderate ex into a pulp, he purred, “How do you feel about silk?”

“Scarves?”

“We already did scarves, but if you’re comfortable with those, yeah, we’ll use them again. I’m thinking something a little firmer. I bought some silken rope a year ago. Elegant, comfortable, yet incredibly strong and soft.”

“That sounds nice.”

He didn’t say anything about the quiver in her voice. Hell, he was so turned on just thinking about using the ropes he was going to have an accident, and not necessarily one that involved driving the car off the side of the road. “Speaking of collars…”

Her lips tightened but she didn’t refuse him immediately.

“I’m not into Master-slave play. I mean, we can play those roles occasionally if you’re curious, but I’m not a full-time Master, not like my brother. I don’t want you to wear a collar of ownership. But some submissives don’t feel truly bound unless their necks are controlled in some way, even if it’s just a scarf or the dominant’s hand. I don’t want to choke you, but I do want you to feel utterly at my mercy.”

Her hands trembled in her lap, but her voice was sure. “I hated the dog collar. I don’t want to feel stupid or worthless.”

“I know, darlin’. I’m not into humiliation play either. However, I do know you like to feel my control, to feel held down and helpless. Something special on your throat might add to that feeling, and I saw something today…” He let his voice fall off and shrugged. “It’s just a thought.”

“For you, Conn, I’ll try anything, at least once.”

He made the final turn into town and used the turns and slowdowns to gather his control.

“Thank you, darlin’. That means the world to me. I’ll show it to you, and if you don’t like it, tell me, okay?”

“Okay.”

He parked in front of the cottage instead of pulling the car into the side carport. “I’ll unload the car and see to the dogs if you want to take a shower.”

She blinked, as though surprised he wasn’t hauling her out of the car and tying her to the bed immediately. In fact, she looked rather disappointed. With a low chuckle, he drew her close and brushed his mouth across her lips. “You’ve got fifteen minutes to be naked and flat on your back in the middle of my bed, or I get to spank you first.”

A soft sound escaped her lips, her eyes widening.

“Starting now.”

She jumped out of the car and raced for the house. She paused at the door, though, watching him open the trunk. “Promise?”

He dragged his gaze from her jeans-encased ass to her face. “Absolutely.”

As she ducked inside, his cell phone rang. “Missing me already?”

“Like a high-degree polynomial skewing my interpolation,” Mason retorted. Conn didn’t know what the hell that was, exactly, but it sounded bad. “I need to tell you something. It might be nothing, but…”

“What’s up?”

“I was talking to Rae earlier today and she got that look.”

Ah, now Conn knew who’d upset her. “What look is that?”

“The look that says the woman’s thinking too much. At the time, I didn’t know what I’d said to put that look on her face, but now… “

“What’d you say?”

“Oh, I don’t remember exactly, but something along us both needing activities away from teaching. I meant our fencing, but she got a really strange look on her face. Earlier, I’d admitted that when I found out you wanted to date a student that I wasn’t the most supportive because I was afraid she’d be too immature to hold your interest. I told her I was wrong, but… Damn it, Conn, I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t say anything stupid to upset her. You’ve got a good thing going with her.”

“We’re fine, Mason. We talked about it on the way home.”

“Are you sure? I’d feel like crap if I messed you two up after you’d pined for her so long.”

“I’m sure.” Conn heard soft music in the background and the clink of a wine glass. “Did you drive straight home?”

“Well, actually…” He didn’t have to see his best friend to know Mason had turned beet red. “I’m still in Joplin. I ran into Dr. Radcliff from Missouri Southern and she asked me about the new computer program I’ve been working on, and well… One thing led to another, and we decided to have dinner. She specializes in splines, you know.”

“Oooh, sounds sexy,” Conn said, smiling. “Good for you. It’s about time.”

“It’s just dinner with a colleague.”

“It’s a start. You need prettier friends than me to entertain you every once in a while.”

Mason laughed. “Especially someone whose eyes don’t glaze over when I start talking about interpolation.”

“Huh? What’d you say? Sorry, I zoned out. Maybe I’ll start quoting Lord Byron for you too.”

With a wicked chuckle, Mason said, “So she likes you to quote poetry, huh? It must be a match made in heaven, then.”

Suddenly solemn, Conn whispered, “Perfect.”

“I’m glad, buddy. Really. Now I’m getting that look from Dr. Radcliff—”

In the background, Conn heard her say, “Tess,” insistently.

“That says she’s tired of waiting politely to tell me what I’ve done wrong in my system analysis, so I’d better go.”

“Have a good time, and let’s sleep in on Monday.”

“You got it.”

***

A box waited on the bed for her. Wrapped in a towel, Rae climbed into his bed with three minutes to spare.

“Go ahead,” Conn said, pulling his shirt over his head. “Take a look and think about it while I’m in the shower.”

The trail of dark hair running down his abdomen drew her gaze lower to his jeans. “Too bad you don’t still have your warrior garb on. Those leather pants were hot.”

“In more ways than one.” He grimaced, even while she remembered the thrill of seeing him fight, sword in hand, sweat dripping off him. There was something so utterly masculine and aggressive about a man with a sword who knew how to use it. “We’ll play barbarian and maiden some other time. Right now, I’m going to take the world’s shortest shower, while you take a look at what I picked up today and see if you like it.”

With a wink, he headed for the bathroom. The box was plain white cardboard without any trademark or design. When had he picked it out?

She opened the lid and pulled back the white tissue paper.

Leather. Deep, dark red, trimmed in black, studded with silver. Immediately, she recognized the design and craftsmanship. She’d purchased her purse from the same lady today.

As much as she’d paid for the purse…

He’d spent a fortune.

She pulled out a choker with a heavy silver heart that would be centered on her throat, and her hands trembled. So lovely, so perfect. More pieces, longer than cuffs and made to lace up, likely for her wrists and ankles. Then she found a corset on the bottom. All made from the same butter-soft leather and intricate designs.

Stark naked and glistening with water, Conn leaned down over her shoulder. “What do you think?”

“Gorgeous,” she whispered.

“Not as gorgeous as you’ll be wearing it.” He placed the choker around her throat, carefully adjusting the snap enclosure until it fit snugly without binding or choking her in any way. “I’ve long admired Donna’s work and had sketched out a few ideas for her last year. I would have purchased most of this even if I hadn’t found you, but I swear, darlin’, I would have never given them to anyone else, even if you’d never come to help Miss Belle. I saw these in my mind on you, only you.”

His words alone were enough to make her breath hitch in her chest. The feel of the leather— his leather—tight on her throat sent a wave of weakness through her body. Literally, she felt lightheaded, her strength simply leaking away. He eased her down to the pillows, hands gentle and eyes sharp, watching her carefully.

“How do you feel? Rae?”

His words came as slow and thick as molasses to her ears. She smiled, although it felt like it took several long seconds for her lips to move.

“That good, huh? Will it be alright for me to add the vambraces and half-greaves? They’ll help protect your wrists and ankles from the ropes.”

“Sure,” she finally forced out.

He slipped the wide leather cuffs on her wrists and laced them snugly, followed by the long cuffs on her ankles. Conversationally, he said, “These are inspired by medieval armor. I asked Donna to use laces instead of buckles, and to use silver only as a design element. These are only half-greaves; normally they’d go up over the thigh to help protect the knee, but I didn’t think your legs would bend well. I like bendy.”

He waggled his eyebrows, which made her laugh.

With an over-exaggerated glare, he growled. “I didn’t tell you to laugh yet. And what’s this? I told you to be naked, and you’re wrapped up in a towel.” He gave her a wicked smile that would do any cartoon villain proud. With a hard jerk on the corner, he rolled her out of the towel, tossed it aside, and smacked her backside hard enough she squealed.

Only one swat, combined with his manner, told her he was playing. She’d never imagined laughing so much with him, let alone in his bed.

“Now you’ve done it.”

Still laughing, she rolled over onto her back and noticed that he’d slid off the bed to his knees. Despite his playfulness, her heartbeat sped up as he pulled out the infamous box. Out came the pocket knife onto the nightstand, and she was sincerely thankful he’d warned her about it beforehand.

Next, he pulled out a length of rope. Of course it was white. “Hold out your hands, darlin’.”

Confused, because the rope appeared to be rather long, she did so. He looped the rope over each wrist and then together, dragging the ends over her chest and stomach in the process.

It was as soft as he’d promised, and she barely felt the bindings on top of the leather cuffs. He moved down her body and worked on her ankles, tying her hands to her feet, but with enough slack in the rope down her front that she could still easily lie flat.

“We’re going to play a game.” He leaned over her, whispering conspiratorially. “Make me earn these swats on your delectable ass. The bed is yours. I have to stay on the floor. Go!”

Still waiting for the fierce, dominant Conn to peek out, she felt him try to turn her over, so she rolled away toward the center of the bed. Sensation ripped through her. Startled, she jerked to a halt.

The rope. It rubbed between her legs, not enough to make her sore, but she definitely knew it was there. He lunged toward her, leaning down with a wicked grin on his face, forcing her to roll further away. The kick of her legs tightened the rope.

Conn laughed and got her backside again. “Come on, darlin’, you’re faster than that.”

Shuddering, she tried to brace her hands on the mattress to push off, but that tightened the rope just as much. A smart smack on her ass sent her jerking the other direction automatically. Every wiggle and kick and struggle sent that silk gliding against her. If she was too slow, he swatted her. If she was too quick, the rope’s caress stoked the fire burning between her legs. It was a lose-lose battle…

Or a win-win.

She couldn’t stop rolling and kicking, not with his taunts, both verbal and physical, spurring her. She couldn’t stop the moan from rolling out of her mouth, either, long and ragged as the rope sent another wave of fire rolling up from her groin. She couldn’t stop herself from hesitating longer, flat on her stomach, when she knew he was going to smack her backside.

She knew he’d swat her again, and again, as long as she let him, and she let him. Because she didn’t want to move.

She didn’t need to move.

She needed to stay, right there, while he did as he pleased.

He knew the moment she surrendered. Arms folded beneath her stomach, she arched her back and waited for the next strike to fall. The slight movement was enough to tighten the carefully placed rope, which made her shiver, her legs shifting, which tightened the rope more.

He’d put her in a vicious cycle of need, without ever once taking the upper hand.

Conn dropped his hand on the back of her neck, heavily, and she moaned louder, her hips rising in invitation. “Do you feel like laughing now, darlin’?”

She shuddered. “No.”

“If I tell you to laugh, are you going to?”

“I’ll try,” she gulped for air. “Might sound more like begging.”

He smoothed his other palm down her back firmly, following the shape of her spine and the swelling curve of her buttock. “Now what could you possibly beg for, darlin’?”

She arched her back again, pushing up into his palm. A ragged moan tore out of her throat. “More.”

“More of…this?” He swatted her ass firmly, bringing a faint blush of pink to her skin.

Then he caught her foot and drew her bound ankles back to her knees. “Or this?”

Crying out, she squirmed against his hold, which only increased the friction of silken torture. “Conn, please!”

He gripped her ankles firmly. “Please what, darlin’? Which will it be?”

“Both,” she ground out.

He laughed, low and wicked, and brought his hand down sharply on her ass. “That’s what I thought. After you come, I’ll tie you to the headboard and have my way with you in earnest. How many strokes do you think it’ll take, darlin’? I’m betting on less than ten.”

Tension strained through her. Good. She was going to challenge him on the bet. He wasn’t sure if she would or not. Deliberately, he let her ankles slip down, giving her a little slack in the rope, and dropped several swats back and forth across her ass.

He could almost hear her mentally counting.

On four, he gave a small but firm jerk on her ankles. She cried out, pitching and heaving in his grip. By her rapid pants, he knew she was close and fighting not just the hovering climax but his control with everything she had.

“‘ But their rage would be subdued,’” he quoted softly through the next strokes, keeping beat with the poetry. Pushing her legs back to the mattress, he pinned her ankles, letting her feel his control, his power, while he continued, “‘ By that clime divine—’”

Her back arched, her breath whooshing out on a scream of pleasure that drowned his voice. Shaking, she gasped, “Count?”

“Nine.” Voice purring with satisfaction, he yanked the knot loose on her ankles, flipped her over, and used her bound wrists to heave her up to the pillows.

“Did you want me to win or lose?”

Despite the need pounding like a jackhammer in his skull, he couldn’t help but laugh. “I think you won either way, darlin’, but I always like a challenge.”

He lashed her wrists to the center support in the headboard, grateful he’d chosen a mission-style plantation hybrid instead of the solid oak panel so he wasn’t limited to tying her to a corner poster. Then he stepped back and simply looked at her.

Stormy eyes, flushed cheeks, her hair wild and tangled about her face from rolling and laughing so much, she lay lush and wanting, adorned with his leather, tied to his bed, helpless…

A sound trickled out of his mouth rather like a low warning growl of a lion warding off a competitor from its kill.

“I dreamed…” He paused, clearing his throat in an effort to tone down the rising beast. “I dreamed of this, Rae. I saw you like this every time I stepped into this room at night, and I wanted to throw my head back and rage at the top of my lungs that I’d lost you.”

Fisting his hands to hide his trembling fingers, he breathed deeply, fighting down the urge to simply fall on her, bury his face against her heart, and beg her to marry him now, right now, before she could change her mind.

Solemnly, Rae whispered, “’ Many a green isle needs must be,/ In the deep wide sea of Misery. ’ I dreamed of you every night, Conn, in misery because I’d lost you.”

Her voice soaked into him like a balm, and it took him a moment to realize she’d recognized the poem enough to quote it back to him. “How did you recognize such an obscure line from ‘Lines Written Among the Euganean Hills’?”

She smiled with such love and trust that his chest cracked open and his heart fell on the floor at his feet. “I had a very good teacher.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he crawled onto the bed and jerked her ankles open wide. “Describe him for me; maybe I know him.”

“Oh…” She sighed, trying to breezy, but with him sliding his palms from her ankles up past her knees, she sounded rather more like she’d just run a marathon. “He’s a sexy sword-wielding English professor who likes his teacher’s pet to wear short white mini-skirts so he can spank her, while he quizzes her on Shelley and Byron.”

“Hmmm,” Conn hummed against her thigh. “Nobody I know.” She made a low, choked sound rather like a muffled laugh, and he shot a darkly smug look up her body to her face. “If he’s so great, you should be able to quote more of that poem.”

While I do this, he thought, nuzzling higher. Silence followed, so he gripped her inner thigh with his teeth, pressing firmly without truly biting.

“I’m thinking!” Rae retorted, her voice high and strained. “Something about a voyage,

‘ Drifting on his weary way. ’”

“I want to love you over and over until we’re both so weary we can’t move. ‘ Where for me, and those I love,/ May a windless bower be built. ’”

She lifted her head to meet his gaze. “’ Far from passion, pain and guilt? ’”

“Never far from passion, darlin’. I look at you and I feel passion and love so fiercely I must agree with Shakespeare: ‘ That then I scorn to change my state with kings. ’”

“’ Love which heals all strife.’” She twisted her wrists aimlessly against the ropes and whispered an agonized cry, “Conn.”

“Darlin’?”

“I need to touch you.”

Abandoning his plan of long hours of torment, he moved up over her, giving her his body. She fought the ropes harder, twisting beneath him in invitation, her breathing a rising crescendo that drove him mercilessly. Jerking the slipknot loose, he thrust deeply, welcoming her frantic hands, her face wet with tears, her body hungry and tight.

She nipped his ear and whispered, “Say it.”

He knew exactly what she wanted—needed—to hear. Fisting his hand in her hair, he pulled her head back, straining her neck in an arc. Deliberately, he stared at his heart on her throat, and then lifted his gaze to hers. “You’re mine.”

“’ Day and night, and night and day.’”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dogs barked, no, howled. Rae jerked upright, disoriented. Conn’s bed. What time was it?

He stood beside the bed, jerking on jeans. “The dogs got out of the backyard and they’re really upset. I think someone’s out there.”

Scrambling out of bed, she scooped up his long-sleeved white shirt and pulled it on, hastily buttoning it. Then she shoved her legs into her jeans, not bothering to try and find her underwear.

They hurried through the house and he grabbed the sword on the wall above the couch.

Muffled curses echoed in the night, and Conn charged out the front door, sword high above his head.

Shivering, Rae halted at the door, her mind frantic. Her cell phone. Where was it? She glanced inside at the kitchen counters. Where’d she put that brand new purse? She should call for help. His car. She must have left her stuff in the car again. She rushed outside.

The big Mastiff had a man down on the ground, his front paws planted in his back while he growled like a mad dog. The little dog raced around yapping at the man’s kicking feet, nipping his calves hard enough he cursed.

Conn stood over the prone man, sword cocked. “Who are you?”

The man froze, covering his head with his hands and trying to kick Prometheus away.

An ostentatious gold ring flashed on the intruder’s hand.

Her stomach pitched queasily. “It’s Richard.”

“Surprise, surprise,” Conn drawled. He leaned down and jammed the point of the sword into the other man’s neck. He must have poked fairly hard, because Richard squealed like a stuck pig. “I’m rather disgusted to finally make your acquaintance, Pencil Dick. You like to take your anger out on women, dogs, and—” He growled. “My car.”

She jerked her gaze to the black Mustang. The yard light illuminated enough for her to see slashed tires and deep grooves down the passenger side door. Tears burned her eyes. Oh, no! She loved that car.

In a low rumble, Conn cursed. “I ought to—”

A police car rolled up. The officer took one look at the little scene and turned his lights on. Even weirder, Miss Belle got out of the front seat. She marched toward the two men, and Rae had this ridiculous urge to giggle. Too bad she didn’t have that parasol.

“I knew it. Colonel Healy slunk off to keep tabs on you and came back in a rush to tell us you were having trouble down here. He let your dogs out for you since you were otherwise occupied.”

“What are you doing with the police?”

“Oh, the nice sheriff arrested me tonight.” At the shock on Conn’s face, she smiled and patted his arm. “Don’t worry, we’ve worked it all out. I had a plan, you see. So, this is the snake who hurt our Rae Lynn. Officer Landon, do you still horsewhip men in prison?”

“No, ma’am.” Sheriff Landon had a dazed look in his eyes that Rae recognized well.

Anyone who spent much time at all in Miss Belle’s presence soon looked like that. “What’s the problem here, Dr. Connagher?”

“This intruder keyed my car and slashed the tires. We caught him in the act. He’s my fiancée’s ex-husband and I want a restraining order put on him.”

“Rae!” Richard whined. “I wouldn’t hurt you!”

Taking out his handcuffs, Sheriff Landon put a knee in Richard’s back and latched one wrist. “Did he hurt you, ma’am?”

Reluctantly, Conn took the sword out of Richard’s neck and joined her, slipping an arm around her waist. “Not tonight.”

“But he has hurt you before?”

“Yes. He hit me and I divorced his ass.”

“Good girl,” Miss Belle said, nodding so hard she almost lost her big straw hat. “So, Officer Landon, that’s your…third arrest tonight, isn’t it?”

The sheriff heaved a huge sigh and drew Richard upright, his hands locked behind his back. Again, Rae had the urge to giggle. She’d been tied up herself just a few hours ago. Only she bet she’d had a much better time than him.

“Miss Belle, I appreciate your help, honestly. But you really shouldn’t be solving murders all by yourself. It’s dangerous.”

“Please, Rae, give me another chance,” Richard babbled. “This is all just a big misunderstanding. Why don’t you arrest the bastard with the sword? He cut me! I’m bleeding!”

Staring at her ex-husband, she felt a surge of anger. God, he was such a miserable excuse for a man. Why had she been so stupid?

“I should have cut his throat,” Conn muttered.

“Dr. Connagher, bring your fiancée down to the station first thing in the morning

—”“Fiancée.” Richard sneered. “I know what kind of jerk Dr. Connagher is, and if you think

—”

Conn tensed beside her, his hand tightening into a fist. Shrugging off his arm, she sauntered over to stand in front of Richard. “You think he’s a jerk? He’s a hundred times the man you are.”

“You’re nothing but a whore.”

With a wide smile, Rae kneed him as hard as she could in the balls.

Gagging and crying, Richard sagged in the sheriff’s grip, his arms wrenched behind his back.

“Shit. Ma’am, please go back over there by Dr. Connagher. Come down to the station in the morning and file a statement. We’ll keep him at least overnight. If you change your mind about the restraining order or you don’t want to press charges, we’ll release him around lunch.”

“We’ll be there,” Rae said, her voice ringing. Conn wrapped his arms around her and drew her close to his chest, his chin settling on her head. “I never want to see him again.”

Walking back inside the cottage, Conn flipped on the kitchen light and put a kettle on the stove. Miss Belle opened a cupboard door and took down a teapot, three cups, and what Rae hoped was herbal, non-caffeinated tea. Glancing at her watch, she was shocked to see it was only a little after ten o’clock. It felt like two o’clock in the morning.

It was nice watching Conn and his grandmother doing something together so domestic.

They worked quietly, seamlessly, as if they shared a pot of tea quite often in the dead of night.

In a few minutes, Rae was curled up against Conn’s side on the leather sofa, a cup of chamomile in her hand.

Miss Belle sat in the other chair. “So that’s why Colonel Healy’s been so smug.”

“Why’s that?” Conn asked.

“I’ve lost the bet.”

Rae choked on the tea, but Conn merely smiled. “Absolutely. What’s he going to require from you this time?”

“Oh, we hadn’t declared any terms.” Miss Belle smiled breezily. “You see, we were both winners either way. Wait until your mama hears the news. Have you set a date yet?”

Rae stiffened, her mind whirling. Yeah, she was in Conn’s bed, but marriage? Already?

She wanted more time. She’d only been back with him…what…a week? He’d warned her, though, so she shouldn’t be surprised.

Smoothing his hand up and down her arm, Conn chuckled. “No date. The more you ask us, the longer off it’ll be.”

Miss Belle sniffed. “We’ll see about that.”

“So why were you arrested tonight?”

“I went back to Pearsons. The murderer was there, and I caused a disturbance so the police would come. It only took an hour or two to sort things out.”

“What murderer?”

“The man who killed Bill Franklin.” Miss Belle rolled her eyes like she was dealing with two blockheads. “Jared Kent.”

“The vice president of the bank? Why?”

Smiling her infamous shark grin, Miss Belle explained the whole thing. “Samantha said that Bill came home that night bearing presents they couldn’t afford because he hadn’t worked for months. Yet he occasionally had money, money enough to drink every single night at Pearsons. The first night I went for a drink, Jared Kent arrived looking rather flustered I must say, and sat at the bar schmoozing with the bartender, a very attractive young lady named Sasha. It wasn’t long before Sasha and Kent disappeared into the back.”

“Kent’s married.”

“Exactly. Bill Franklin saw something he shouldn’t have. Kent was paying him off, but Bill got greedy, and as a drunk, he wasn’t trustworthy. Kent had to get rid of him before he blabbed the secret all over town.”

“So how was Bill murdered?”

Draining the last of her cup, she set the saucer on the table and stood up. “Poison in the beer that Kent delivered to his ‘good buddy’ personally that afternoon. It had absolutely nothing to do with Samantha’s brownies, but now she’s completely cleared and my Bed and Breakfast will have the best cook in the state.”

The old lady’s piercing gaze settled on Rae, who tensed despite the smile. “And the best project manager. Will Healy House be ready to open in another month?”

A wind rushed through the room and the stack of books on the end table fell over.

“Honestly, honey, I’m changing the blasted name of the house. I hate Beulah.”

“Grandma, Beulah is your real name,” Conn said gently. “Belle was your stage name.”

“I know that, Verrill. Why do you think I began using Belle in the first place?” The invisible wind swirled around the old lady, shaking her hat, rustling beneath her dress until the old lady giggled. “Oh, all right. Beulah Land it remains.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Dear Dr. Connagher:

I love watching you sleep. Your face is soft and open, so relaxed and completely at rest.

It ought to be. You certainly had a very good workout last night.

I love watching you breathe. Listening to your heart beat beneath my cheek, I feel like I’m in the safest place in the entire world.

I love you when you hold me, when you put your powerful arms around me and draw me next to your heart. I love you when you read poetry to me. Even your pop quizzes. I love you when your turn those blazing sapphire eyes on me, the lines deep around your mouth and between your eyes. Your will is a tangible force compelling me as ceaselessly as the moon draws the tide.

I love you when you tie me to your bed and torment me with your incredible body. I love you when you take me over your knee and transform me into a quivering, crying, aching mess of need.

God, I love you.

But I’m not giving that pink parasol back. Not until you give me the two pairs of panties of mine you still have.

Oh, and in case you need some incentive? I still have that white mini-skirt. I tried it on. It still fits, for the most part, but it’s rather shorter now than it was five years ago.

~ Rae

P.S. If Miss Belle asks me when we’re getting married one more time, I’m going to use that pink parasol on her.

P.P.S. I’m going to Alaska when your mama comes to visit.

The brand new iron gate looked incredible, Beulah written in ivy, just as before. The trees lining the drive were at the height of color, gorgeous flaming red and pumpkin orange, and although Rae couldn’t see the house from here, she knew what a grand impression it would make on their first guests scheduled to arrive for a weekend stay tomorrow afternoon. Those pink pillars would frame an impressive stained glass window of pink roses and an odd—yet striking—mosaic of black and white tiles.

Assuming she had time to finish her project.

A car approached. She turned around, smiling as Conn’s black Mustang slowed. Luckily he knew a very good repairman, and the paint job looked as good as new.

The passenger window rolled down. “Yeah, she’s right here. I know, Mama, but—”

Good Lord. Rae backed away, waving her hands frantically.

Conn smiled, arching an eyebrow at her. “We can’t get down there until the semester’s over. If you want to meet her, you’re going to have to come up here. How about a family Thanksgiving? Miss Belle has a new cook, so I don’t think she’ll poison us this time. You want to talk to Rae? Okay, hold on. Darlin’—”

She turned around and ran up the driveway.

“Sorry, Mama, she’s run off to handle an unexpected emergency.”

Breathing deeply, Rae paused at the line of trees and looked back over her shoulder at him. He stood half out of the Mustang, leaning against the top of the car to glare at her. Steely blue, his eyes flashed, the groove between them deepening with his frown.

“Call me at my house in say…thirty minutes,” he said loudly, his voice carrying to her easily. “She’ll be ready to talk to you then. No, better make it an hour. This is a rather troubling emergency. It may require a pink parasol.”

Laughing, Rae cut across the lawn and ran harder toward her English professor’s cottage.

About the Author

Joely always has her nose buried in a book, especially a romance or fairy tale. She, her husband, and their three monsters live in Missouri. By day, she’s a computer programmer with a Masters of Science degree in Mathematics. When night falls, she bespells the monsters so she can write. Read more about her current projects at www.joelysueburkhart.com.

Only one way to trust her—teach her the true meaning of tamed .

Terms of Surrender

© 2009 Becky Barker

Years ago, Cassie Pallard let her wild and headstrong nature cost her the best thing in her life: Brody Chambers. Older and wiser, she’s back to try to heal the hurt and win her way back into his heart—and his bed.

Not so fast, says Brody. He loved Cassie most of his life, but her temper-driven desertion destroyed his faith in her and their future. If she wants his trust, she’ll have to earn it.

Before he opens his heart again, he plans to make it clear his love comes with strings.

And handcuffs. And a blindfold…

Warning: This one’s short and hot with some BDSM, so not for the faint of heart.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Terms of Surrender:

Emotions in total chaos, Cassie nodded and climbed from the truck. He hadn’t allowed her to collect anything from her car and he hadn’t relaxed one bit during the ten-minute ride.

His rigid hostility sent a tingle of apprehension over her body.

She watched as Brody strode ahead, up the steps to the porch and then to the door. The faded jeans molded his flat stomach, narrow hips and long legs. The form-hugging green Tshirt emphasized the broadness of his chest and his muscled arms. She’d always thought him a hunk, but he seemed to have grown bigger, stronger and harder, in more ways than the physical.

He turned and looked at her, pure male arrogance and pride. His expression said this was her last chance to back out of the deal. If she followed him inside, she’d be completely at his mercy, and he didn’t seem to be in a very merciful mood. He had two years full of anger and frustration to vent. The risk to her body might be minimal, but she didn’t know how much torture her battered heart could survive.

She didn’t believe he’d do her any physical harm. The man she’d known and trusted had been a gentle lover with a generous heart. What she didn’t know is how her desertion might have changed that man. He certainly didn’t seem too approachable right now.

Still, she loved him with all her heart. She never would have left if he’d loved her as deeply. She’d thought her threat to join the rodeo would elicit a marriage proposal, but her plan had backfired. He’d let her go without a fight, without a call or letter or speck of protest. Now she had to do whatever it took to make things right between them. Even if that meant submitting to his every whim until he’d been pacified.

“Are you coming?”

Cassie didn’t hesitate any longer, but followed him into the coolness of the house. He tossed his hat aside and ran his fingers through overlong hair that always threatened to curl.

His eyes glittered and thick brows furrowed as he studied her. She noted new frown lines around his eyes. The grooves in his cheeks seemed deeper, his overall appearance more grim.

He’d never be considered handsome in a pretty-boy fashion, yet his face portrayed the strength and character of a man who could be trusted to keep his word.

After slamming the door, he spoke to her in a voice more harsh than she’d ever heard from him. “Take off your clothes. Right here, right now. No arguments or this arrangement is finished before it starts.”

Her eyes widened in shock and she stared at him to see if he was joking. He wasn’t. His jaw was locked in determination. His eyes were so cold that a shiver raced over her. Was he trying to scare her into leaving? Was this a test?

She’d never been a particularly modest person and he’d seen her naked before, yet she stood frozen.

“Now.”

His command made her wary, but he wouldn’t send her running again. In fact, now that she was back in his home, he’d have a hell of a time chasing her away. She’d yearned for him too long to let him scare her off so easily.

Cassie started to turn her back to him.

He grasped her arm. “Don’t try to hide from me!”

Eyes sparkling with annoyance, she stood directly in front of him and whipped her top over her head and off her arms.

She hadn’t thought his expression could get any tighter, but it did. Somehow, it made her feel more exposed than the shedding of clothes. She’d known she’d have to swallow a lot of pride if she wanted to put the past behind them. But baring herself, even physically, wasn’t as easy as she’d hoped.

Quivering and unsure, she gave herself a mental pep talk. This is what she wanted more than life. She wanted Brody looking at her with that tight, needy expression, so she unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor.

His eyes flared with a sexual hunger so stark it dampened her defiance a bit and sent another hot tremor over body. He quickly lowered his lashes to hide his reaction. She dropped her arms to her sides.

“All of it, the bra and panties, too,” he insisted gruffly.

She understood. She didn’t like it, but she understood his need for control. Slowly, Cassie reached behind her back and unclipped her bra. It fell away from her breasts and dropped to the floor. Her nipples puckered as cool air wafted over them. The heat of Brody’s gaze had them tightening into hard nubs.

Without another word, he reached out and cupped both breasts, molding them and fondling them with his big, calloused hands. When she closed her eyes on a sigh, he brushed her nipples with his thumbs until a tremor shot through her. If this was his idea of torture, she could deal with it twenty-four hours a day. Heat speared her low in her belly and moisture collected between her legs. She stifled a moan. It had been so long. So damned long.

When she thought her legs would collapse, she reached for him.

Samhain Publishing, Ltd.

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Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three