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1 “M y darling, I want to touch you everywhere,” Lars whispered. Miranda shivered as his long, elegant fingers slid down the flat plane of her belly, his skin so dark against her own pale flesh. His hardness stirred against her bare leg and she gasped. Soon he would drive that thick column of flesh inside her. Could she possibly bear it? A soft mewl escaped her lips as his hand drifted to the delta of springy curls between her thighs. She squirmed in embarrassment as his fingers tickled the entrance of her body, finding her shamefully wet, aching for his touch. “Oh, Miranda,” Lars sighed, groaning in approval as he felt her wet welcome. “Have you any idea how long I’ve wanted to touch you like this, how I’ve ached to slide inside the sweet petals of your womanhood…” Lauren put the book facedown on her bedside table and closed her eyes. Her hand slid down to the waistband of her pajama bottoms and inside her cotton bikini panties. In her mind, Miranda’s silvery blond hair became a mass
2 P retend to be attracted to her. Lauren’s request rang through Tony’s head two weeks later as he threw a sport coat and slacks into his garment bag. This was going to be torture. A weekend spent playing Lauren MacLean’s oh-so-attentive boyfriend. He would have to touch her, kiss her, all in the name of convincing her family that they were enjoying hot and sweaty headboard-pounding sex. He just had to make it through the weekend without letting it happen for real. His blood hummed with anticipation as he pulled up in front of Lauren’s house. They’d decided his suburban would be much more comfortable than her Jeep for the eight-hour plus drive to Newport Beach. He wondered what Lauren’s parents would be like. He’d always got the impression that she was fairly close to them, but she’d never talked about them in detail. In any case, he found it a little weird for a mother to be so concerned about her daughter’s sex life, especially since, in his experience, from the time he hit fifteen,
3 N ot too early turned out to be about six-thirty AM for Tony. Even that was a test of his endurance. For a man not big on self-restraint, spending even one platonic night in the same bed as Lauren was enough to send him over the edge. Now, as the morning sun turned the ocean from dark blue to marine, he ran down the sandy stretch, ignoring the burning of his calf muscles as they dug into the soft sand. With limited privacy in the room, a run was the best way he could think of to eradicate the truly spectacular (if he did say so himself) display of morning wood he’d woken up with this morning. He’d known he was up shit’s creek the minute they entered the room at the Balboa Bay Club. All the suites were taken, Carly had explained, so they would have to make do with a regular ocean-view room. It was still the nicest hotel room Tony had ever been in. Expensively furnished and beautifully decorated in shades of sage green, the room had every amenity a man could ask for. From the fully sto
4 I f that little punk didn’t stop gaping at Lauren’s tits, Tony was going to kick his ass so hard he’d taste it in the back of his throat. He’d smelled trouble the second Lauren spotted him across the pool, noted the way he’d stared at Lauren as her parents renewed their vows. After dinner was served, Carly brought the douche bag’s presence to Lauren’s attention. “Look sweetie, Brandon’s here. You haven’t seen him in ages.” While Lauren had been well aware of Brandon’s presence all along, as soon as her mother motioned him over, Lauren’s arms had tensed. She immediately, unconsciously, started preening, straightening her shoulders, subtly sticking her chest out until Tony was afraid her breasts were going to spill out of the wispy fabric of her dress. Feigning casualness, Lauren waved at the guy who stood by the bar at the far side of the pool. Tony immediately resented the way she smiled with nervous anticipation, like she couldn’t wait to get reacquainted and catch up on old times.
5 N ext time. He’d just come so hard he’d nearly blacked out, and already he was thinking about the next time. He gently eased himself from her body, his cock making a halfhearted attempt at revival as her slick tissues tugged at him. Flopping over on his back, he pulled her close until her head rested on his chest, trying to quell the anxiety swirling through his brain. Jesus, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d so completely lost control. But everything about her drove him insane, from the way she looked naked, to the way she tasted, to the sexy sounds she made as she came. His heart still pounded and his hand shook as he played with the soft ringlets piled on top of her head. This intense reaction meant nothing, he told himself firmly. This bone-deep satisfaction, and his eagerness to experience it all over again, was to be expected, after his longer than usual dry spell. Right. And that was why he simultaneously wanted to flee and curl himself around her and never let her go. T
6 “I don’t know about you, but after last night’s excitement I could have stayed in bed all day.” Carly MacLean made this pronouncement over eggs benedict and mimosas. Lauren tried to ignore her mother’s all-too-perceptive gaze. From the moment she and Tony had arrived, her mother had been sliding her those knowing glances and making little comments until finally Lauren wanted to stand up and shout “Yes, we fucked! A lot! And so good we could probably get a gold medal in the Olympics of fucking. So you can stop worrying about your poor, frigid, potentially lesbian daughter.” But she said none of this, simply moved her eggs around her plate, tracing designs in her hollandaise. Her characteristically healthy appetite seemed to have abandoned her somewhere in the night. She couldn’t decide if it was the postorgasmic euphoria, the deliciously distracting feel of Tony’s hand on her thigh under the table, or perhaps the sick, choking feeling she got when she imagined what would happen when t
7 L auren did her best to keep their conversation light, meaningless, and utterly without depth for the rest of the ride back to Donner Lake. Not easy when her brain practically screamed at her to hash out this thing between them, once and for all. What exactly had happened, anyway? Had he simply wanted to get laid, or was there even a teeny, tiny chance that he might actually consider a relationship with her? Only the fact that, deep in her bones, she knew the answer to that question kept her from bringing it up. Tony was Tony, and many of the things she loved about him—his charm, his laid-back attitude, his easy laugh and often immature sense of humor—were the very things that kept him from even entertaining the idea of settling down with one woman. But dammit, she hated being in this gray area. For most of her adult life, her relationships with guys had remained firmly in the friends arena. No bleeding over into romantic territory for her—she was usually smart enough keep everything
8 “W hy didn’t you show up last night?” Tony’s voice in her ear sent a hot pulse through her core. That’s why. Lauren straightened and turned, taking the paper cup he offered. She took a sip of the hot latte, sweetened with half a sugar packet, exactly the way she liked it. Her heart squeezed and she wondered how on earth she was going to maintain her distance from a man who not only made her come so hard she saw stars, but also brought her coffee fixed perfectly to her taste. Which brought her right back to why she hadn’t, as had been her habit over the past several months, gone over to Tony’s to watch whatever major sporting event was being televised. “I had some stuff to do,” she said lamely, looking away from his dark, penetrating gaze. Truth was, she’d known damn well that if she’d gone over to Tony’s she wouldn’t have made it past kickoff before throwing him down on the couch and tearing his pants off. So she’d stayed home and watched the game on her crappy twenty-two-inch screen
9 T he Raiders had just kicked off to the Broncos when a knock sounded at the door. He quickly hit pause on his DVR, his heart picking up a few beats. It could only be Lauren, ready to make peace and watch the game. His stomach clenched at the implication. If she was over here, it meant she was able to move on from what had happened last weekend, and ready to settle back into their old, familiar friendship. But Tony had had a lot of time to think over the past few days. A lot of time to miss her. And in missing her, he realized his feelings had progressed far beyond friendship a long time ago. If he wasn’t in love with her, he was damn close. Now he just had to convince her to give them a chance. He took a deep breath and self-consciously smoothed his hair, wondering when he’d become such a coward. But his stomach was in knots and his hand actually shook a little as he went to answer the door, steeling himself to confess to Lauren the true depth of his feelings. “Hi Tony.” Disappointme
With special thanks to C.M.
1 T here was a note stuck to the cactus. I stood for a moment in the kitchen as solitary and still as the only two objects that inhabited the room: the cactus and the rickety table upon which it sat. Staring at the cactus, with the clownish yellow post-it attached to its pallid midriff, I felt lonely in my new apartment. I had slept there the past three nights, but it still felt unfamiliar, like a stranger’s bed. I hurried to the note. It was from my cousin, Verónica, of course. She had brought home the cactus the day I moved in. Three days ago. “It’s to remind you of home,” she’d said, placing the plant smack in the middle of the kitchen table, which we had hauled in from its rotting place on the street the night before. “In case you get homesick for Tucson.” I smiled politely at her hospitable gesture. Droplets of drizzle from outside were caught in the unbrushed fur that covered the cactus. I had never seen a cactus quite so hairy before. Not in Arizona. Despite its furry appearance
2 “L ola, your dad’s on the phone!” I groaned. I had just collapsed onto my futon, not even bothering to take off my mustard-stained uniform. My first day as a waitress was exhausting, my nurse-white sneakers in a constant, shuffled conga line as I trailed my cousin with a pitcher of burnt coffee. Verónica had been working at the mock drive-in diner for over a year and had gotten me the job for the summer, the summer before starting my real career, as my father no doubt wanted to remind me on the phone. I stretched out my hand for the cordless, still facedown in my comforter. Verónica handed me the phone after saying a sugary good-bye to her tío. “Hey, Papá.” “How was your first day at work?” “Good, I guess. Surprisingly tiring.” I left out the part about being so hungover that Verónica had to stand outside the bathroom door on the lookout for our manager, Louis, with his twitchy mustache, as I prayed with my head hung in the toilet bowl that the septic fumes would induce vomiting. Giv
3 I saw Nacho before Thursday. It was Wednesday, the day before our supposed date, and Verónica and I had gotten off work just in time to make it to Tito’s for happy hour. Our pockets were crammed with small bills, hard-earned tips to blow on hard alcohol. When I saw Nacho, he was sitting in the same booth in the same bar with a girl (not me) who had lip liner permanently tattooed on her mouth. When she smiled, a closed-lipped smile, the lines of her mouth pulled taut like two red strings. She saw me staring at her and tossed a look of flying daggers. I meekly returned the look with a smattering of butter knives. “Lola, that girl is basura.” Verónica had a way of hissing words in Spanish to hide the fact that she couldn’t speak it fluently. She quickly shuttled me to a stool at the bar, and we sat with our backs to Nacho and Tattoo Mouth. They were keeping company with a bunch of cholos whose precisely folded bandannas half-hooded their eyes and made them look sleepy. Verónica ordered
4 “I s this going to stain the tub?” Verónica lowered my head over the rim of the bathtub to apply the remaining purple lather of black dye to the base of my hairline. We were going to a party in a few hours. “I don’t think it matters.” With a gloved hand, Verónica turned my head toward the urinelike stain on the bottom of the tub. I could never understand how she could take baths in our tub, allowing her dimpled flesh to lie against such a foul-looking and mysterious stain. When I showered under our weak, detachable showerhead, I did everything I could to keep my feet from touching that stain. This often involved a superstitious dance around it like children do to avoid the ubiquitous cracks in the sidewalk for fear of breaking their mothers’ backs. My cousin, on the other hand, religiously took a bath once a week surrounded by votive candles lit to the Virgin of Guadalupe and fecund mounds of bubble bath voluptuously covering her naked parts. Often, she wanted company while she took
5 N eil had Nacho by the back of his neck and slammed him facedown onto the hood. Although both men were pretty built, Neil was twice Nacho’s size. Nacho flailed foolishly under Neil’s steady grip. Neil’s face was masked with the stoic reserve he used while driving, even as dark blood spilled onto the shiny, candy-apple red hood of his truck. Nacho was able to lift up his bloody face up just enough to spit my name at the wind-shield, which protected me from the blows and blood and turned me into a spectator of this masculine sport. “Lola, you puta!” His eyes were rimmed red, and the boy was obviously high. I hoped Neil didn’t understand the Spanish slur, but he definitely seemed to understand the tone that defiled the name he so cherished. For that, he pummeled Nacho’s shaved head back into the hood. Neil’s eyes flashed at me with the recognition of what this fight was about. A split second later, Nacho threw Neil back. They momentarily faced each other in the pool of headlights and th
6 “I don’t think you should go back to your apartment for a while.” Neil had finally pulled over into the abandoned lot of a decrepit, drive-in movie theater. The giant screen was torn and flapping in the wind. It reminded me of Nacho’s T-shirt. We were somewhere just south of San Francisco. “This place is awesome, Neil. How’d you find it?” A half moon spilled its ghostly light onto silver tufts of grass and patches of gravel. The lot was like a cemetery to a bygone era. “Let’s just say it’s my secret hideout. And now that I’ve shown it to you, you can never leave.” His eyes glimmered, his teeth gleamed, and his hair glistened. I felt like I was seeing stars. “Hey, Neil. I’m really sorry about that guy. I mean, I only hung out with him a couple times, and I thought he would’ve got the message when I didn’t return his phone calls….” “Shush. I don’t care.” He took my face between his hands, pressing his broad fingertips into the slender bones of my cheeks and jaw. His lips looked just ri
7 “Y ou, what?” Verónica almost dropped the tray of salt and pepper shakers that she was carrying from table to table. “Shhh, Verónica. The whole diner doesn’t have to know!” “Well, shit, Lola. If I had known you were going to run off and do that last night with him, I would’ve worried about you disappearing from the party like that.” Apparently, she hadn’t been worried about where I went—until now, that is—busy having her own tryst with Icy Eyes on the foggy rooftop of the Victorian. I had actually expected my cousin to give me a high five when I told her about finally getting laid or even make some dumb joke about bringing a whole new meaning to the expression lay on the horn. “Fuck, what is it, Verónica? Does he have an STD or something? We used a condom.” An old lady, her gray hair dyed a ghastly purple hue, looked up from her poached eggs in disgust. “Here, have some salt.” Verónica quickly offered in a lame effort to placate the elderly patron. She quickly pushed me on to the nex
8 N eil was right: nothing could have prepared me for La Estrella. The unassuming bar was not unlike Tito’s in its anonymous façade and seedy interior. Everything about the bar was peeling, from the paint on the outside to the cracked linoleum squares of the dance floor on the inside. Middle-aged Latino men danced cheek to cheek with women whose makeup was applied thick and shiny like lacquer. I wondered if the couples would be able to peel their faces apart when the song ended. It wasn’t until Neil handed me a Tecate that I realized what was queer about the place. I was the only female—biological, that is—in the whole establishment. The ladies dancing and flirting in Spanish with men, many who resembled my father in their blue-collar wear and creased faces, were all in drag. These drag queens often towered above the men, wearing heels even higher than Verónica would dare and in sizes that must have been special ordered. Their voluminous hair—wigs, I suspected—added even more extraordi
9 W aking up in Neil’s arms, I suddenly panicked: how would I ever be able to leave San Francisco in just two months time when I couldn’t even conceive of leaving my lover’s bed this morning? I studied Neil in his sleep. I would never have thought him to be such a peaceful sleeper. Not one snore had escaped his heady lips all night. The sun, peeping through the broken blinds, stretched across his worn comforter, casting golden rectangles onto it. I ran my hand over the warmed, pilled surface that gently rose and fell over his body. Neil shifted in his sleep and pulled me closer to him underneath the covers. Our naked bodies were cool and smooth like sea glass worn edgeless by the ocean. Neil’s eyes opened without warning. Immediately, he studied my contemplative face. “You look so pretty in the morning.” His words were sleepy but earnest. He kissed me in the intimate cloud of morning breath. “What are you thinking about, Lolita?” Neil could read me like a book. “Oh, nothing.” I shook m
10 “M orning, prima.” Verónica pretended not to hear me as she noisily stacked plates into the kitchen cabinet. In an unprecedented crack at housework, Verónica had washed the buildup of dishes in the sink. They sat in dripping but clean piles on the counter. I went over to the fridge and pulled out a block of cheese and a carton of eggs. “Verónica, have you seen my tortillas?” She had to answer me now. I was a foot away from her. “Try the drawer,” she suggested coldly. Sure enough, the tortillas were in the vegetable drawer underneath a wilted head of lettuce. I cooked my breakfast burrito in silence. From time to time, Verónica glanced at me warily from the sink where she was vigorously scouring a pot. We hadn’t seen or spoken to each other since our conversation at the diner on Saturday. Now it was Monday, and I had woken up to Verónica’s clanging in the kitchen. As I groggily pulled myself out of bed, still exhausted from my weekend’s tryst with Neil, I dreaded facing her. I had to
11 I opened my eyes to a familiar pattern of tattoos. My sheets had fortuitously slipped from the shoulders of my sleeping lover, and I smiled at the sight of his smooth, inked skin. The moment of awakening was soft and downy like the underbelly of a bird, and I closed my eyes to linger in my dreams. I was dreaming of the desert. We were driving in Neil’s truck right at that afternoon time when the desert is swathed with a pink, vulval glow. I caressed Neil’s arm, strong like a boxer’s. He was tan, almost as dark as…Nacho. My eyes opened again to the familiar pattern of tattoos. Gang and memorial tattoos. Nacho rolled over in his sleep. A garbage truck stopped outside my apartment and men yelled and the metal lids of trash cans clattered onto the pavement. Nacho’s eyelids raised half-staff, struggled to flutter all the way up, but ultimately flagged. As he dozed, his tattooed women kept watch. It was hard to tell time in our basement apartment. Although I had a window, it was at eye le
12 I had to find out. Curiosity ate me up for three days until there was nothing left but the naked carcass of my need to see Neil. This time, I went straight to the lion’s mouth: the garage. It was nighttime, but the hour was young and restless. I walked briskly down the damp streets with the confidence of a girl with nothing to lose. In a week and a half, I’d be leaving this grey city behind. As I approached his block, the fluorescent lights of the garage reached me like a beacon. There were no shadows in which I could slink, and the echoing heels of my tall, black boots announced my arrival. Neil emerged from the gaping, crocodile jaws of the Chevy. His navy blue coveralls were covered in grease. I cocked my hip to one side and stood before him, dressed slimly in black. The look he gave me was so peculiar that I felt my poise momentarily falter. “What are you doing here?” His smirk softened his words, and I knew that he was glad to see me. “What were you doing at my work?” I haughti
Dedication To DeborahAnne MacGillivray. A wonderful author, Web mistress, and friend.
1 R and felt like a different man. A wild one, untamed, seething with feelings, with needs, with a gut-clenching want…for a woman’s softness. Something to burrow into, bury himself in, press his face against. It had been so long, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like. The sultry hotness of Medan, Indonesia, was like an invisible hand of heat that wrapped around him, melting away the ice that had encased him for five long years so that he felt the tingling, burning pain of renewed sensation. Now the need, the want, the wild desire churned within, rising, rising, threatening to flood him like a powerful wave. Men sensed it and stayed away. Women sensed it, too, and flocked to him, drawn by the tantalizing allure of danger. Nor did it hurt that he was a “wealthy Westerner.” Perspective was a funny thing. Here, any Westerner was considered wealthy compared to the vast indigent population, even in an affluent port city like Medan on the western Indonesian island of Sumatra. But, sweet tho
2 T he pulse, the beat, the loudness of the music was what hit Dr. Anna Huang first. Then the darkness, the dimness of light, the swaying bodies rocking to the deep, throbbing beat like supplicants worshipping before the altar of Baal. Within seconds, she was swarmed like a queen bee spraying pheromone into the air. Two men, three men, four, suddenly surrounded her, their faces handsome, sharp, one androgynously pretty, another dark as burnished teak, the two others a lighter brown like bleached driftwood washed ashore. Hands touched her, reached for her. Anna had wanted a man, had come here looking for one, but, sweet Jesus, this was ridiculous. They pushed her, pressed her back out the door she’d just entered. Or maybe she’d backed out. The deafening music muffled with the closing of the door, and her voice rang out in the silence. “No! Don’t touch me.” Anna heard now what they were saying. Money. Amounts varying from 50,000 rupiah, five U.S. dollars, to 250,000 rupiah, twenty-five d
3 S ilence beat the air as the hotel elevator swiftly lifted them up. Her hand was so small in his. The top of her head came only to his shoulder. Rand wondered what the hell he was doing. Gentleness. She wanted gentleness. Rand wasn’t completely sure he could give her that. It had been so long and he wanted so much. He closed his eyes. God grant him the strength. “Are you a virgin?” She started, gave a short laugh. “No…but it’s been a long time.” She looked so young, and he wondered for a moment if she was a graduate student. There were plenty of them out here. He wondered how long it had been for her, but didn’t ask outright. Didn’t tell her it had been a long time for him, too. That would only lead to uncomfortable questions for them both. Too intimate. An odd thought, really, when they were about to join their bodies as one. “Were you raped?” Ah, the questions this man asked. The impressions he had. “No. Just…betrayed.” The elevator dinged as they reached the twelfth floor. The cor
4 T enderness swept through Rand, pushed down the primal lust for a moment, as she stepped through the door and entered his room like a soldier girding for battle. Extraordinary elegance. Steely determination. A potent, powerful mix. But it was the uncertainty he sensed in her, the vulnerability that touched him most. Courage. There was courage in her, he realized. She was facing what she feared. A grimace twisted Rand’s mouth, shifted his beard as he followed that strand of thought to its logical conclusion—he was what she feared. And he didn’t want that. She’d stopped after taking a few bold steps into the room. Tensed as the door snicked shut. Trembled as he tread up behind her, beside her, then past her. This little one required a man’s care, his patience and gentleness. He prayed he could give it to her. Flicking on a soft lamp, he kicked off his shoes and lowered himself onto the side of the bed, feeling like a giant beside her smallness, trying to lessen his bigness, his threat.
5 H e moved between her legs, in the space Anna had unconsciously created for him. She felt the heat of him first, that hot, hot skin hovering over her, between her open legs that were splayed wide and wanton. Only then did she become aware of her position, but not enough to care. It took energy to care and she didn’t have any just yet. All she could do was breathe and recover. Learn to feel again. Feel first, then move. Feeling returned with his touch. The touch of his hair whisking like gossamer silk over her thighs. The touch of his hot, puffing breath falling upon her like a prayer, a soft tingling benediction, blowing over her wetness, bringing her into awareness of that wetness and the first touch of embarrassment. It was as if his breath infused energy back into her. And then he touched her, really touched her. With the wiry silk of his mustache, the tingling brush of his beard, the press of his soft lips firm against her. Oh! Just firm enough, soft enough, not to tickle, not to
6 I t was the quietness that finally stirred Anna. That opened her eyes and turned them to him. He lay beside her, his body tense and tight, while hers felt boneless. Her body sated, his unfulfilled. One tanned arm was flung up, covering his eyes, as if that somehow helped his body contain his weeping need. Clear, liquid desire oozed from the swollen head of him. He’d been so kind, so patient, so gentle. She wanted to please him now, in turn, as he had pleased her. And so, though her body was sated, fed so well that it no longer needed or wanted, she reached up over him and plucked up the foiled wrap that had lain there so patiently waiting. The shifting of the bed, the ripping sound of paper made Rand lower his arm. He throbbed, he needed, he burned. And yet he was happy. She had been so beautiful, so surprised in her release. She had surrendered so sweetly to him, to his pleasure, had lain so trustingly beneath him as he had probed her first with his finger and then with his tongue.
7 T he joining of their bodies, their release…it was as if it freed them of the awkwardness, the unknowingness. Now they knew each other, and the knowing seemed to give them permission to touch, to kiss. To talk. “Were you coming or leaving?” he asked, stroking her thick pelt of hair as she lay curled up against him, her head resting on his chest, her hand stroking over his shoulder, down his arm. Her hand, that soft hand, stopped moving, stopped touching him. “Would you like me to go now?” she asked in a careful voice. He scowled, pulled back so he could look into her eyes. “Hell, no. I want you to stay. Can you stay?” he asked softly, persuasively, his voice so at odds with the fierceness on his face. She went with his voice. “I’d like to.” “Then stay.” The displeasure smoothed away from his face. “I was asking about Aceh Province. You’re here as part of the tsunami relief, right?” Anna nodded. “Are you coming or leaving from Aceh?” She relaxed then, letting the tension flow from her
8 A nna lay between his spread legs on her stomach, propped up on her elbows. He was semihard, which meant that he lay flat for the most part, only just beginning to lift, to angle up instead of down, like a series of eager nods…up, down, lift, fall. Not too thick yet. Just plump, without being too hard. The tip of him was cushiony, like the extra padding on your ass to protect your bones. But here, a man had no bones, just hardness and softness. Especially there at the crown, like donning a helmet before the big man dived in. The image shone laughter from her eyes. Seeing the laughter made Rand both eager and wary. Pleasure awaited. But how long he had to wait for it decided how painful the climb would be before reaching the blissful summit. By Anna’s languid movements, she wasn’t in a headlong rush to reach that cresting peak yet. Nope, that smile said she wanted to play. Bad, good…he wasn’t sure which. Maybe both. She ran a finger over the tip of his crown, inspecting it up close an
9 T he stirring of the air more than any sound awakened Anna. She opened her eyes, saw a stranger standing by the bed, and screamed. “Anna, what’s wrong? Baby, it’s me.” She knew that voice, knew it intimately. But she didn’t know that face. “Rand?” “Yeah, it’s me. I shaved.” Lips curved up. Teeth flashed white. She saw his naked, unbearded smile for the very first time, and it stole her breath for a moment. He stole her breath. Dear Lord above, he was beautiful. Like an angel fallen from the sky. Like an old master’s sculpture brought to living, breathing life, so beautiful he was unreal. Striking, stunning. A man who would draw all eyes, both men and women, to him when he stepped into the room. A man who was even more handsome than her lying, deceptive first lover. He was looking at her shyly, expectantly, a total stranger but for his eyes. His beautiful green eyes…those, only those she knew. Not the chiseled face, the lean cheeks, the strong jaw, the full mouth. It was like looking
10 T he hustle and bustle of New York City felt odd after the lush tranquility of the rain forest. Of Indonesia. She’d been home for over a week now. She busied herself in her medical practice by day, stared up at her ceiling by night. She was her normal self during the daytime, but when darkness fell, it was as if someone else possessed her, kissed her, made her body ache, her heart throb. And when she awakened from fitful dream after fitful dream, it was his name she whispered, “Rand.” The nights were unwillingly his, but she banished him during the day. Or tried to. Oddly, it was during the empty stretches of time when she wasn’t busy, when she walked out into the crowded streets for lunch, that she would catch a glimpse of tawny, sun-streaked hair in a crowd, or a sweep of broad shoulders. Her heart would speed and she would race quickly after him, looking, searching, but not finding him. Never him. Always someone else. And the discovery, the desperate chase, the questioning look f
11 S he looked stunned, surprised, shell-shocked, as she had once before. Rand’s stomach twisted. His grip on Anna’s hand firmed. This time, though, she wasn’t running away. He wouldn’t let her. He guided her to a waiting car outside. The driver sprang out and held the door open for them. “Your car?” Anna asked. “Yes, get in.” Docilely, she took a seat, slid over to make room for him. The door shut, encasing them in silence. “Your apartment or my place?” Rand asked, not trusting himself to say more. Anna swallowed, looked blindly ahead of her. “My apartment.” Without surprise, she heard Rand give the driver her address. They drove in silence, sitting beside each other, not touching, but excruciatingly aware of each other, of each breath taken and exhaled. The car pulled to a stop and the trip that had taken so long suddenly seemed too short. His hand wrapped once more around hers as the door opened and they stepped out. “Thank you, John. I won’t be needing you the rest of the night.” “
12 H e treated Anna like a cherished lover or a beloved wife, washing her, drying her, tucking her into the soft covers of her bed and snuggling beside her, her head resting on his chest, the lovely ba-boom, ba-boom of his heart a lulling dear rhythm beneath her ear. He stroked her hair. “The first time I saw you, I thought you looked like a perfect little China doll with your porcelain-white skin, jet-black hair, and red lips.” “A China doll,” Anna murmured. “Surprisingly accurate. Something put carefully on a shelf, hidden behind protective glass, sheltered by my parent’s love, contained by my own fear.” She ran her hand idly down his chest. “But that glass shattered when my daughter almost died two months ago.” Rand stiffened beneath her, lifted her chin so he could see her. “How?” he asked roughly. “Lily helped break up a human smuggling ring. But the head of the Chinatown gang she brought down got away and came after her. I was in her apartment when he broke in, looking for her. H
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