Chapter Seven

Amy hadn’t counted on Ty acting like they were dating.

No. She hadn’t counted on him acting like they were in love.

In hindsight, it was a stupid oversight. Of course, he would stick close to her, put his arm around her, stare into her eyes and even kiss her temple. Of course, he would act as if he was crazy about her. It probably wasn’t a bad thing that his touch had such a powerful effect on her, given how closely his mom was watching them.

But still. Amy was rattled. She felt as if she had a full-body blush from the moment he arrived, and it wasn’t fading at all. Having his hand on the back of her waist, his thumb tracing those little circles that made her skin heat, was more distracting than anything she could imagine him doing. When he’d given her that survey across the room and his gaze had heated, her mouth had gone dry. When he murmured to her, her heart leaped for her throat, then raced like crazy. She could have lost herself in his eyes, and even thought about dragging him into her house when she got home and having her way with him.

Her nipples were tight, for goodness’ sake.

And other bits of her were similarly…aroused.

How would Tyler McKay kiss? Amy really wanted to know. She realized that if he had ever been set on courting her—or even seducing her—she wouldn’t have had a chance.

But this was a fake date.

And she was smart enough to not forget that bit.

Maybe.

Even if her body wasn’t.

The thing was, she’d been sure Ty was a lousy liar, and that disconcerted her even more. Had she misread him? He couldn’t be really attracted to her, could he? That would have been an introduction of new information—even though he had admitted the night before that he liked their lunch conversations.

Amy did, too. She needed time to sort through everything he’d said and done to decide what the truth was, but instead she was at a bridal shower with his family. She had to make it look good and remember what she’d studied.

She’d have to analyze Ty’s words later.

Amy tried to have a coherent conversation with Derek, as Ty went to get her a glass of wine, and was sure she failed. It seemed that everyone in the room was checking her out, and Amy wasn’t used to being the center of attention. On the other hand, it was reasonable to expect her, as a new arrival, to be a little overwhelmed by his family.

“Do you live downtown like Ty?” Derek asked, when Paige had left to change Ethan’s diaper.

“No, I have a house,” Amy admitted. “And it’s close enough to the city that I can commute.”

“Good for you.”

“It was my parents’ house,” Amy admitted. “I inherited it.”

“Even better,” Derek said with an easy smile. “How old is it?”

She recognized that he was trying to put her at ease and appreciated it. “It’s Victorian. It was built in 1899.”

Derek’s eyes brightened. “Go on! I love old houses. Paige is determined that we’ll buy one and renovate it completely.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t know where she thinks I’ll find the time. I’d have to run my crew hard to even afford one of those places, then there’s the cost of the renovations.”

“Tell me about it.”

Ty returned with her wine and Amy tried not to jump when he put his hand on her back again. She smiled up at him, knowing that her cheeks were warm. His eyes were twinkling and his dimple was in view, so she knew he was just waiting for another chance to tease her.

If only he knew that her reaction wasn’t very sisterly.

“Where is your house?” Derek asked. Paige returned and they traded off, her taking his glass of wine and him lifting Ethan out of her arms. “Amy has a house built in 1899,” he said to his wife, who gasped with delight.

“I’m officially jealous,” Paige said. “Tell us all about it.”

“Well, it needs a lot of work right now.”

Derek waved this off. “All the keepers need work. But the bones of the old places are incredible.”

“And the details,” Paige added. “Where is it?”

“In Brooklyn,” Amy said, well aware that Ty was listening. “Flatbush, actually.”

Derek and Paige exchanged a glance. Paige asked if it was on a street, which was Amy’s street, and named a cross-street.

Amy was startled. “Well, yes, it is.”

Derek leaned closer. “Tell me it’s not number 304.”

Amy looked up at Ty, a little bit freaked out. He appeared to be interested but there was something else. What did that gleam in his eyes mean? He seemed more focused than he’d been before. She realized that there was another woman with similar eyes standing behind him, watching her avidly. “What if it is?” she asked.

“That house!” Derek and Paige cried together.

“I love that house,” Paige said. “I want that house.”

“Hey,” Ty said as Amy stiffened and she felt him draw her a little closer. “Take it easy, Princess Paige.”

“I just love it, that’s all,” Paige said, her voice rising with her enthusiasm. “It has that porch, which is wonderful and the bay window and the little turret roof.” She sighed with rapture. “Oh, it’s perfect in forty-six thousand ways.”

“Hardly,” Amy said, feeling uncomfortable to hear her house discussed in such terms by strangers. “As I said, it’s due for a lot of work.”

“Like what?” Derek asked. “The porch? Those wooden porches are always in need of maintenance.”

“Yes, that. The most urgent thing is that it needs a new roof.”

Derek reached into his jacket pocket and removed a business card. He beckoned to Ty, who gave him a pen, and he wrote another phone number on the back. “Ty must have told you that I have a construction company.”

“He did.”

“We do a lot of renos, including roofs and porches, but I really like working on the older houses. My goal is to build a reputation for sympathetic renovation of those places.” He handed her the card. “So, I’d be honored to have a chance to bid on your roof.”

Paige nudged him hard.

“And I’ll give you a family discount, just to sweeten the deal. Name the day and I’ll come and have a look.”

“And Paige will come, too, so that she can poke around inside your house,” Ty said wryly.

“Ty!” Paige protested.

“Tell me that’s not the plan,” he said, and Paige blushed a little.

“Well, it did occur to me that I could talk to Amy while Derek was up on the roof.”

“She’s shameless,” Ty said to Amy. “You don’t have to let her in. Make her sit on the porch.”

“That porch!” Paige nearly swooned.

“Even better, make her stay in the truck.”

“Ty!”

“I have tenants, so I can’t show the whole house to anyone anyway.”

Derek’s brows rose. “Was it always duplexed?”

Amy shook her head, still hating that she’d had to do it. “It was the only way I could keep it.”

“You know, if you ever want to sell it,” Paige began, but Ty held up a hand.

“Give it a rest, Paige,” he said sternly, his tone firm enough that Paige complied. “Amy’s been here five minutes, survived the Mommy Test, and you’re already trying to buy her house from underneath her.” His fingers tightened briefly on Amy’s waist. “And now Lauren wants her turn at the interrogation.” He turned and introduced the woman who had accompanied him.

Amy remembered the list of details.

Lauren. Oldest sister. Ty’s unofficial favorite. Married to Mark in 2014. Hairdresser with her own salon.

But Amy would have guessed that part. Lauren’s hair had that effortless beauty of a fabulous cut and artful coloring. It swung around her shoulders, gleaming and bouncing slightly. It was hair to envy.

Amy swallowed when Ty kept her tightly against his side. She could smell his cologne and that combined with his attention, his heat and his thumb doing those little circles on her back made her knees weak. Her reaction was just about the most inappropriate one at a family event like this, and she wondered whether Ty had any idea what he was doing to her.

“Lauren wanted to know how we met, but I said you had to tell the story.” His hand slid up her side as he smiled down at her in apparent adoration. “You do it so much better than me.”

Amy’s mind went blank. His hand dropped to rest on the back of her waist again and her heart slowed its palpitations. She was aware that everyone in the little group was watching her, waiting.

And she needed a meet-cute involving an elevator.

“In the elevator,” she said, then laughed a little. “It was really silly, which is why Ty doesn’t want to tell it.” She spared him an adoring look, which prompted his dimple to reappear. “We work at firms in the same building, and one day, we ended up being the only two people in the elevator.”

“So, you started a conversation,” Paige concluded.

“Not until the elevator got stuck,” Amy admitted.

Ty chuckled and the pressure of his hand increased ever so slightly. “What’s a guy to do when he’s trapped in an elevator for ninety-seven minutes with a beautiful woman?”

Amy blushed at his compliment, but his siblings loved it. There was a collective “awwwww.”

“She had a book,” Ty continued, his voice very low. “And I asked her if it was any good.”

Amy’s gaze flew to his only to find his eyes sparkling again. He was teasing her. He was talking about that book. She lifted her chin, more than ready to participate in this version of their first meet. “He couldn’t understand why a woman would read an erotic romance, so I set him straight.”

Paige laughed and saluted Amy with her wine. “Good for you. Taking on Ty the tiger on a first meet.”

Ty the tiger. Interesting.

“Who won?” Lauren asked softly.

“Amy,” Ty said quickly. “I couldn’t summon a word in my own defense.” She glanced up at him again and the twinkle was gone from his eyes. He looked deadly serious. “Book, line, and sinker,” he murmured with such conviction that even Amy considered believing him.

She took a large sip of wine and wondered what the hell she’d gotten herself into.

“Come on, Amy,” Ty said as the conversation continued around them. “Let’s check out my aunt’s garden. She won an award from the horticulture society last year.”

“Really? How wonderful.” Amy excused herself from the others and let him lead her away. She sighed when they were a few steps away.

“Sorry,” he muttered when they were out of earshot.

“I just had complete deodorant failure.”

“I didn’t want to screw up the story, so that seemed a good way to be on the same proverbial page.”

Amy nodded agreement. “Lauren looks skeptical.”

“I’ll call her later this week and push the story.”

“No,” Amy said. “If you do that, it’ll only feed her suspicions. Wait for her to come to you.”

“All right.” Ty opened the door to an expansive patio, lush with potted floral arrangements. “And I’m sorry about the house thing. Paige is a bit of a pitbull when she latches onto something. There’s a reason we used to call her Princess.”

“Ty the tiger?” Amy asked.

His smile was quick. “Okay, so there’s more than one stubborn soul in the family.”

“It is kind of nice to hear that someone admires your house. I was just surprised. I didn’t realize it had fans.”

“I guess you know who to call if you ever do want to sell it.”

“I’ll never sell it,” Amy said, and only realized how fiercely she had spoken when Ty looked down at her in surprise. “It was the house my parents bought when they got married. It’s filled with memories for me, and with their love. I can’t imagine ever surrendering it willingly.” She lifted her chin. “They’ll take me out of it in a box.”

He nodded understanding as they crossed the patio. It was a lovely yard, and very serene, even with guests milling about and chatting. There was a little waterfall near the house and the water flowed around the patio into a pond. Amy spotted koi swimming in the pond and admired the variety of exotic plants around the lip of the pool. They crossed a little bridge to a gazebo that was empty for the moment and she took a deep breath.

“You’re doing great,” Ty said.

“It’s intense.”

“They don’t mean to be.”

She nodded understanding. She could feel the love in this family and the concern they had for each other. She wouldn’t think about her own situation in contrast, not until she was home alone again. “They just want you to be happy.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, so clearly at a loss for words that Amy smiled. His gaze met hers and he smiled. “You keep doing that,” he mused.

“Doing what?”

“Throwing me off guard.” He brushed a fingertip across her cheek, launching a thousand shivers. “It’s disconcerting.”

“I’ll stop.”

“No, don’t.” There was a heat in his eyes again, one that prompted tremors with her.

Amy had to look away from him for a moment, because she was so disconcerted.

The garden had been cleverly designed so that it was hard to tell exactly where the property lines were, though Amy had no doubt it was an extensive property. Large trees blocked the view of other houses. She wondered that there wasn’t a pool, because the house seemed to have everything, then saw the glass conservatory that enclosed the indoor pool.

“So, you have tenants.” Ty was leaning against the pillar of the gazebo and she realized that he’d been watching her compose herself.

As if he really was smitten.

“Good ones,” she said, hearing the doubt in his voice. “I went to high school with Lisa, and she teaches now at the primary school. When her parents split up, her mom moved in with her, then they moved into my place. They have the second floor of the house, and it works out pretty well for all of us.”

“That sounds official and cheerful. What aren’t you saying?”

Amy grimaced and decided to admit the truth to him. “I hate the extra doors.”

“What doors?”

“To give them privacy and security, I had a door installed at the bottom of the stairs, blocking off the main floor. There’s another new door at the top of the stairs, securing their apartment.” She wrinkled her nose. “The doors just look wrong. The house used to be so open and inviting. Now it doesn’t feel the same.”

“And you only have half your house to yourself.”

“Which is better than not having it at all.”

He smiled. “Always making the best of whatever comes your way, aren’t you?”

“Am I?”

“I think so. It’s admirable, Amy, but wow, it makes me want to help you out.”

“We’ve made our deal,” she told him sternly. “And you gave me your friend’s number at the bank.” He arched a brow. “I’m going to call him this week.” She saw something dawn in his eyes and shook a finger at him. “No making arrangements behind the scenes. No pity funding. No mercy meddling.”

“You’re taking all the fun out of it.”

Amy refused to be charmed. “No upping the ante. No changing the rules. I’m not a charity case.”

Ty sighed theatrically and she found herself smiling. “I guess another friendly bet is out of the question, then?”

“Like what?”

“Like… Derek will quote the roof to you at cost and plan to do it himself on a long weekend.”

“That sounds like you know him well enough to anticipate what he’s going to do, which doesn’t make it much of a wager.”

“True. You could negotiate with my inside information, though.”

“How so?”

“If Paige is going to torment you the whole time, they should pay you.”

Amy bit back a giggle. “She’s not so bad.”

“She was only getting warmed up.”

“She’s just enthused.”

“Is that what you’ll say when she’s trying to peel your wallpaper to see the plaster, or pull back your rugs to check the floors, or pushing aside your clothes to assess the size of your closets?”

“You make it sound as if I need to be defended from her.”

Ty lifted a hand. “Consider me a volunteer. If you want me to play defense when they come, just let me know.”

Amy’s heart warmed despite herself. “Do you protect all the women in the world?”

“Just the ones I like.” Their gazes met in that electric way once more and Amy almost forgot to breathe.

“Let me think about it,” she said lightly. “Shouldn’t we go back inside?”

“Definitely. I need more wine for round two. You?”

“Yes, thanks.” She must have straightened visibly, because Ty claimed her hand and gave her fingers a squeeze.

“You’re doing great. I can already hear the accusations of what an asshole I am to have let you go.”

Amy knew she shouldn’t have felt flattened by the reminder, but she was. She forced a smile. “Let me be the bitch instead.”

“We’ll argue about the details later. Come on. Maybe half an hour more, then the gifts will be opened and we can leave.”

“No. Your aunt is putting out a buffet.”

“I was going to take you out for dinner to compensate for pain and suffering.” He arched a brow. “To have you to myself.”

“I think we should stay and do it right.” Amy squeezed his hand. “Besides, I’ll get mine back soon enough.”

“All right. Definitely more wine.” Ty held tightly to Amy’s hand and led her back to the house. “Then you should meet the bride and groom.”

“And Stephanie and Trevor.”

Ty nodded and led her back to the house.

* * *

“One down, two to go,” Ty said when they were driving back to the city. He had tapped in Amy’s address into the GPS once they were in the car, having committed it to memory when Derek and Paige worked it out of her. She’d watched but hadn’t protested. He took that as a good sign that she was trusting him more.

“Four to go,” Amy corrected. “Two rehearsal dinners and two weddings.”

“I forgot the rehearsal dinners. You’re right again.” He spared her a glance. She didn’t look as if she’d been too shaken by his family, which was a relief. “How do you think we did?”

“You want a score?”

“Absolutely. On a scale of one to ten.”

“Eight,” Amy said without hesitation. “We nearly blew it on the meet-cute.”

“Even with your brilliant variation on the truth of the elevator meet.” Ty shook his head. “At least a nine.” Amy didn’t say anything and he wished he wasn’t merging into traffic and could turn to look at her.

“It was clever to mix it with part of our actual first conversation.”

Ty nodded. “I knew that if they heard you’d told me off, they’d like you and believe that you caught my interest.”

“You make it sound like they think you terrorize them.”

“I have been told that I’m bossy.”

He smiled at the sound of her giggle. “How was it my idea to get the Keurig?”

“Hot coffee. You said you only like it hot, and I remembered Katelyn complaining that every time she makes a pot, it gets cold before she remembers to drink it.”

“She seemed pleased.”

“You’re one of her favorite people forever now,” Ty said with satisfaction. Could he give Amy a similar coffee maker without insulting her?

“Was the necklace she was wearing one of her own pieces?”

“Yes. You can tell because it was all twisty wire and asymmetrical.”

Amy chuckled. “I liked it.”

“I guess I’ll have to look at it again, without my preconceptions.”

He felt Amy’s satisfaction with that and liked it a lot.

They rode in silence for a few minutes, and Ty watched a pair of black SUVs in his rearview mirror. They were swerving in and out of lanes, and looked like they were racing.

They were closing fast.

He wondered whether their course was erratic because the drivers were drunk. Either way, he was going to get Amy out of harm’s way.

“You know, we never finished our discussion about those books,” he said, not wanting Amy to notice the SUVs.

“You’re right. Did they change your mind about the genre?”

“Not a bit. Take that first one, the new release with the naked guy on the cover.”

Amy named the title.

“Right. Castration would be too good for that guy.”

“So you said. Why didn’t you like him?”

Ty pursed his lips and quoted. “‘You’re at your most beautiful when you’re struggling to survive.’ Seriously. How is it sexy that he likes to take her to the brink of death, then save her? Again and again and again?”

“It’s about control and trust.”

“It’s twisted. Lock him up and throw away the key.”

“Like in one of your thrillers.”

“Absolutely. ‘The good ended happily and the bad unhappily. That is what Fiction means.’”

“Who said that?”

“Oscar Wilde, and it’s true. This genre is screwing with my conviction that the good guys win.” One of the SUVs cut off the other one and nearly missed a sedan in the lane behind Ty. He gripped the stick, assessing the traffic ahead and hoping for a gap to open.

“How so?”

“If this is what women want, then a normal guy, with normal appetites, hasn’t got a chance.”

“Maybe it’s what women like to fantasize about.”

To Ty’s relief, the SUVs weren’t catching up that quickly. They were both changing lanes rapidly, swerving right and left, but the volume of traffic was holding them back. Brakes squealed behind them and a horn was honked. Ty spoke quickly to keep Amy from looking back. “Maybe it’s a bad sign for society at large if that’s the case.”

Amy straightened, as provoked as he’d hoped. “How is it up to you or any other men to decide what’s right for women to fantasize about?” she demanded in a hot tone that made Ty wish he could look at her. “We’re not property or chattel who need our thoughts managed. Men fantasize about all kinds of stuff that I’d call twisted…”

“Not most of us,” Ty felt obliged to note. One SUV was zooming up the lane to their right, but the gap between the cars ahead wasn’t quite wide enough yet.

“But some of you do, and that’s apparently okay, given what’s in the magazines at the corner store.” Amy was indignant. “But if a woman fantasizes about being dominated or about being taken in a rough way or about bondage, then it’s assumed there’s something wrong with her.” She took off her glasses and shook them at him. “There’s nothing wrong with fantasy…”

Ty wanted to look at her so badly it hurt.

“What about that book? You know, the one that sold a bazillion copies,” he asked, wanting to keep her from looking behind them. “The one that was a movie.”

Amy exhaled in exasperation. “No one who has criticized that book has read it. It’s not my favorite, but neither is it about what everyone assumes it’s about.”

“What’s it about?” Ty asked through his teeth. He silently urged the sedan ahead of him to move just a little faster…

“Consent and trust. And love healing wounds.”

“Seriously?”

“They have a contract and a safe word!” Amy cried. “If you actually troubled to read the book or paid attention to the movie, instead of making assumptions about its content, you’d realize that she’s the one who’s in control of the situation, and that’s what’s so powerful about it! Besides, it’s fiction!”

The second black SUV was behind the first one, waiting to pass on the right and swerve ahead. The first one accelerated, then swerved toward Ty’s back right bumper.

The sedan ahead changed lanes.

“Hold on,” he muttered, shifted down, and floored the accelerator. Amy gasped and dropped her glasses into her lap. The car shot forward like a rocket, exactly as Ty had planned, passing the sedan. He changed to the lane on his right, then the one to the right of that, giving the SUVs lots of room. The first one raced past them, weaving between the two lanes.

Amy picked up her glasses and put them on, then twisted in her seat to look out the back window. She then peered into the side mirror.

Ty took an exit, choosing an alternate route to leave the other SUV behind forever, then slowed to a sedate pace in the middle lane.

“Okay?” he asked when Amy remained silent.

“Were they racing?” she asked.

“And too close for comfort.”

She nodded. “Were you listening to me at all?”

“Yes. Not particularly well, but I was listening.” He cast her a smile and saw that her lips were tight.

“I don’t believe it,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “You were just trying to distract me.”

“Well, maybe a little.”

“Don’t you think that’s condescending?” she asked coldly, and Ty knew he was in trouble.

“How is it condescending to protect someone?”

“I’m an adult, not your leetle seester,” Amy said. “Why wouldn’t you tell me what was going on?”

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“So you deceived me.”

“Deceive is a little strong…”

“You didn’t tell me the truth because I’m just a woman, and I can’t be relied upon to remain calm in a bad situation?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know you’re a good driver. I’ve seen that already. And you’re not a risk-taker or a daredevil, either.”

Ty felt his temper rise. “Funny how those don’t sound like good traits.”

“I know you’d do your best to keep us safe, but I’m not a child. I deserve to know what’s going on around us.”

“I don’t think it’s wrong to be protective!”

“And I don’t think it’s wrong to be told the truth. Do you seriously think I don’t know anything about danger or death or taking risks to survive?”

Ty would have admitted he was wrong if she hadn’t continued.

“And I don’t think it’s wrong to expect to be treated as a responsible adult and an equal!”

His temper flared. “How does that mesh with all those naughty fantasies?”

“Perfectly well.”

“Really?”

“Really. They’re games. They’re explorations and role playing—and they’re done in an environment of complete safety.”

“In an ideal world,” Ty muttered. “So, is the guy who likes to see his beloved struggle to take another breath only sexy because he doesn’t fuck it up and leave her to fight for too long? Because she doesn’t actually—oops—die?”

“Pretty much.” Her tone was considering and he wondered why. “It’s his perfect control that’s hot.”

“Control,” Ty muttered. “And which universe do these people live in where anyone has perfect control?”

“A fantasy one,” Amy acknowledged. “That’s the point.” Her voice hardened. “It’s fiction.”

“It’s a slippery slope.”

“Not for me.”

Ty bit his tongue.

Hard.

A terse silence filled the car then, and Ty gave all his attention to his driving. There wasn’t a lot of congestion, but he was furious with Amy for refusing to see how dangerous all of these ideas were. It was a slippery slope, in his opinion, from consenting to naughty games and women being shipped in boxes against their will to serve as sex slaves.

She waited until they left the freeway completely, then cleared her throat. “These discussions are a bit lop-sided, aren’t they?”

“What do you mean?”

“What are your fantasies?”

“Oh no, we’re not going there.”

“Why not?” she challenged. “Afraid I’ll think castration is too good for you?”

No, just that she’d think he was boring. Predictable. Safe. Vanilla.

Fucking nice.

“I never thought you’d be a big chicken,” she taunted.

“I’m not afraid. Just private.”

“Uh huh.” Amy made a clucking sound and Ty saw red. He pulled into a parking lot, squealed the tires, and put the car in park.

Then he gave Amy his undivided attention, along with a healthy dose of honesty. “Okay, you want the truth. Here it is. All this bondage stuff seems unnecessarily complicated to me. The role-playing, the knots, the games, the mind-fucking. And I think it is a slippery slope to tendencies that aren’t nearly so much fun. What if your hot dominant lover decides to ignore the use of your safe word? There’s too much latitude for abuse, and the person who’s going to be on the losing end of that is, nine times out of ten, going to be the woman.” Ty shook his head and held up one hand for a moment. “Don’t say trust again. I hear where you’re coming from, but I’m not sold. Not every guy listens, especially in the heat of the moment.”

Ty realized that a lot of the vehemence of his reaction came from his concern that Amy would explore the games more, and he wouldn’t be able to ensure her safety. That worried him enough to make him be so forthright.

“You’re stalling.” Amy had folded her arms across her chest. “You haven’t ’fessed up to anything.”

Ty gritted his teeth. He might as well lay it all out. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t, at this point. “What works for me is really simple. I like what my partner likes. Whatever excites her works for me, because there’s absolutely nothing hotter than a woman who can’t get enough of you or can’t have you fast enough.” Ty held her gaze, and saw her eyes widen. He leaned closer, watching how she quickly licked her lips, hearing her breath catch, wanting to touch her more than anything in the world. He dropped his voice to a purr. “Not. One. Thing.”

Amy swallowed. “What if your partner liked you tying her up? What if it made her wild to have her wrists bound or to be blindfolded?”

“I guess I’d have to get out my old Boy Scout manuals and practice my knots.”

“Says he with a decided lack of enthusiasm,” Amy said, her disgust clear. She shifted her legs, the way she did when she was reading, but Ty didn’t think it appropriate to admit his enthusiasm was greater than she realized. “I think you’re full of it. I think you’d tell her that her fantasies were wrong and refuse to play along.”

Amy looked out the window then and Ty couldn’t think of a thing to say in his own defense. Well, except to admit the truth and that wasn’t going to save his butt.

He waited, but she didn’t look at him.

He took a deep breath and left the parking lot, squealing the tires a little bit. If he drove too quickly down her street, that was just too bad.

The thing was that he hadn’t told her the whole truth about his fantasies. He remembered his hour as Matteo, the softness of Amy’s lips beneath his thumb, the sweet curve of her butt under his hand, and the intensity of the desire he’d felt for her in that session. It had been incredibly hot—and they’d practically been in public and had been mostly clothed. The possibility of doing the same things naked and in private—let alone doing more than that—was enough to make him dizzy.

All because he knew Amy liked it.

“There,” she said, pointing to a house a hundred feet ahead. “You don’t have to get out to open the door.”

“It’s what I do,” he retorted.

“Don’t bother. I can manage a big car door all by myself.”

“Amy!”

She was opening the door before Ty could think of an argument in his own defense, and she got out of the car so fast that he barely managed to pull out his wallet to pay off their bet.

“Thanks.” Amy plucked the bill from his fingers and slammed the door hard. She walked away, without giving Ty a chance to continue their conversation.

He sat and watched until she was in the house, his blood simmering with more than frustration. He wanted to follow her. He wanted to try to convince her to believe him with his touch. No, he wanted to back her into a wall and kiss her until she couldn’t think about any other guy or any other fantasy lover than him.

The simple fact was that he felt protective of Amy because he liked her.

A lot.

Enough to want more than a few fake dates.

But now that he’d stepped square in it, even those fake dates were in jeopardy unless he found a way to apologize.

* * *

Ty’s hundred dollar bill was so crisp and new that Amy didn’t want to break it.

She showed it to Fitzwilliam, who was unimpressed. He sat beside his bowl of kibble, his expression expectant.

Amy still felt a little agitated that Ty knew where she lived. She was more agitated that they’d argued. She could see his point, but it infuriated her that he refused to see her point.

Despite herself, she liked that he’d waited until she was inside before driving away.

And when he was gone, Amy’s world seemed a little less colorful.

She couldn’t stop thinking of how Ty had looked when he’d accelerated to get them away from the drivers he didn’t trust. His eyes had glittered and his lips had thinned. He’d looked like a different man than the charming one who met her for lunch. A decisive and commanding man.

A demanding one. The sight had worked for Amy in a big way.

Never mind his intensity when he parked the car and gave her a serving of truth. And when he told her what he liked…well. Amy wondered whether she might have ovulated in that moment. He was really really hot and she’d hoped that he might act upon his urges.

But he hadn’t. He’d kept everything under control, except his voice.

He had dropped the f-bomb twice. She’d never hear him do that before.

There had been a moment when he’d come up behind her and put his hand on her back at the party, that she’d thought of Matteo. She’d been almost startled when Ty’s murmur had been in her ear, instead of Matteo’s gruff Spanish accent.

Not significantly less aroused, though.

Maybe she was mixing them up, which was a troubling possibility. Amy changed and washed out her new dress, then went into the kitchen. The fridge was depressingly empty and she regretted eating so little at the buffet. She’d been too nervous to indulge, although everything had looked delicious.

“I need to have a cooking day,” she told the cat. “Like Mama and I used to.” She frowned. “Maybe next weekend.”

She opened a can of cat food for Fitzwilliam, and a can of soup for herself. While it was heating, she walked around her part of the house, imagining what Paige would notice about it. It was still beautiful, despite the extra doors needed for the duplexing, and the main rooms were generously proportioned. The living room at the front had a bay window that looked over the porch and a fireplace, which Amy used in the winter. The mantel was original and lavishly carved. She ran her hand along it as she passed. She’d always liked the tiles in the fireplace, too. Her parents’ dining suite was still in the room, although Amy seldom sat in there.

There were two bedrooms on the main floor as well as the kitchen and a full bath. The kitchen was smaller than would have been ideal—Amy remembered her mom joking that there could never be enough counter space in any kitchen—and had been renovated the last time in the seventies. It was sufficiently vintage to be due for an update. One bedroom, the one immediately behind the dining room, had always been Amy’s dad’s library. It had built-in bookshelves, still full of his books, and a fireplace, as well. There were two chairs in front of the fireplace and Amy remembered many winter nights spent there, reading with him.

The back bedroom was chilly and had been used as a storeroom when Amy’s parents had been well. They’d used it as a bedroom when someone was sick, and technically it was Amy’s bedroom now. She often slept in the living room, though, on the couch, or in her father’s library. She couldn’t rearrange the other main rooms without disturbing her good memories, not any more than she could empty the attic, so she made do.

Was Ty right that she was always making do? There was a germ of truth in that, for sure.

The second floor had four bedrooms and a full bathroom. The bedroom immediately over the kitchen had been turned into another kitchen. Lisa and her mother used the largest room as a living room and ate in their kitchen. The other two rooms were their bedrooms.

The stairs continued past their door to the attic, to her mom’s dressing room and closet and lots of buckets catching rainwater.

One of Amy’s favorite daydreams was how she’d fix up the house if she won the lottery. Her mom had always wanted a larger kitchen and they’d talked about integrating that back bedroom into the kitchen, since it hadn’t really been in use anyway. That changed when her mom became ill. It was still a good plan, though, because it would mean that the back end of the kitchen would open into the yard.

The back yard had never been given much attention as a living or entertaining space. Amy’s mom had grown a lot of vegetables when Amy was small and much of the yard had been in production. If the kitchen opened to it, though, Amy could imagine a patio, maybe with grapes trained over a trellis and paths between the vegetable beds. Flower beds, too. She was inspired by the house she’d visited that day with its beautiful yard.

There was a garage at the back of the lot, one that defied gravity by remaining upright and provided accommodations for wild creatures. It could be rebuilt, if it was done before it fell down, but without a car, Amy’s priority was the roof.

The fact was that even at cost, she doubted she could afford the roof. She wouldn’t phone Derek until she had some idea of where to find the money. In the morning, she’d call Ty’s friend, just in case there were more options than she realized. It really couldn’t hurt to find out.

She put Derek’s card into the drawer that held all her household bills and estimates, then went to eat her soup. She plucked one of her mother’s favorite recipe books off the shelf to browse as she ate, because she was due to fill the freezer with pre-made meals.

Amy was yearning for a taste of home cooking.

Her mother’s cooking.

As soon as she’d served the soup, her phone rang.

Of course, it was Brittany.

Amy only half-listened to all the drama of the day, because evidently the dress had been fixed. When the call ended, Amy realized that her cousin never asked about her own date, and knew that Ty had called the relationship right without even meeting her cousin.

His family was big and they liked to razz each other, but there had been an incredible sense of love between them. Amy had seen how they supported each other, and provided for each other, in the same way that her parents had supported her. Ty’s safety net would never be gone, though, unless the Apocalypse came.

There were so many of them.

She could be a little bit jealous of that.

Or she could use it. The Dark Prince himself was alone in Amy’s story, reviled by those around him because of his scars. Lothair was too embittered himself to reach out for help. He didn’t even think he needed any assistance.

But his slave, Argenta, knew better.

She challenged his expectations.

Amy thought about the Oscar Wilde quote and knew that her story was going to deliver to that expectation. She seized her pen and the pad of paper and began to write.

The prince lifted my chin with one gloved fingertip, and I could feel the weight of his gaze upon me.

Then he let his hood slide back a bit so I could see his face. I knew he expected me to avert my gaze but I didn’t. I looked. His one eye was patched and judging by the scars, I wagered that his eye was gone. I had glimpsed the deep wound that etched his cheek, pulling down one corner of his mouth. Another scar, or perhaps more of the same one, erupted from the top of the patch, and carved a line to his temple, pulling up the end of his dark brow so that he looked diabolical. On that side, I could see that his scalp was red and marred, as if he had been burned. On the other side, his hair was as dark as ebony, thick and wavy. His eye was as green as new grass.

He had been handsome before his injuries, and even now, I found his face arrestingly beautiful. If he had expected me to quail in terror, he was doomed to disappointment. The scars on his flesh showed his valor to me. They showed that he had faced an ordeal and survived it. They were a mark of his venturing beyond the borders of Euphoria. I wanted desperately to know where he had been, what he had seen, what it was like beyond our borders.

I wanted to go there myself.

Clearly, there was peril to be found in such distant lands. Someone had disfigured him deliberately, so savagely that I wondered why.

I looked my fill and sensed his surprise.

“No pity,” he said softly.

I shook my head, holding his gaze.

Something changed in his expression. If anything, he became more intense. We stared at each other and the air seemed to heat between us…