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  “That’s so not true! Rick Bellows is available. I could probably fix you up if you’re interested.” Olivia grinned. Poor Allie, she desperately wanted a hot boyfriend.

  “Eeewww,” Allie moaned. “He probably stands naked in front of the mirror all day, admiring his dick.”

  Olivia headed for the living room. “Hey, I’ve heard he’s got a pretty impressive package, even if he does say so himself!”

  Allie plopped down on the couch and grabbed the remote. “Yeah, he’s a legend in his own mind.”

  Olivia collapsed with laughter. “Okay. Scratch Bellows. I’ll look around once the club opens and see if I can find you a good one.”

  Allie giggled. “Scratch Bellows yourself, girlfriend. But definitely do the looking around thing. Although . . . if the brother’s that hot . . .” She flipped through the channels. “Oooh, Highlander’s on. Now that Adrian Paul, there’s my kind of guy.”

  * * * *

  Noah stood outside the open French doors leading to Olivia’s bedroom. Getting past the high walls and wrought iron gates had been no problem at all. Although it was good to see the security guards took their work seriously, no lock or mortal man could have kept him out. Should he do this? Should he invade her privacy? Probably not, but restless thoughts of her drew him here. He opened the door and stepped inside. Holy shit! The seer had been right. Red surrounded her. He should have known! How had she managed to block her aura from him?

  His cock swelled, and his mouth went dry. The room looked to be dedicated for one purpose—sex. Deep red wall, silk saris in jewel tones, and a huge couch scattered with elaborately trimmed pillows, and a massive, hand-carved bed that had to be an antique. The window coverings were heavy red velvet, edged in gold fringe and tied back with exotic, jeweled tiebacks and were topped with red, beaded Torans. Indian art and wall hangings were interspersed with shelves containing exquisitely carved statues and scented oil warmers. Moroccan lamps hung from the ceiling, and scented candles were carefully placed to provide a romantic ambiance.

  She moaned in her sleep and rolled onto her back, feet kicking at the blood-red, sateen top sheet. He stifled a groan. Her restlessness caused the sheet to slide to her hips, revealing truly spectacular breasts and a flat, toned belly. He licked his lips, longing for just a taste of her creamy, silken skin. Silently crossing the room, he sank into a dark corner of the couch, put his feet up on a velvet-covered cube, and delicately probed her mind.

  Yes. He was there in her thoughts. There had been a conversation with a friend, but she hadn’t revealed anything confidential. Not that she knew much about him at this point. He grinned. She thought he was hot, would do him in a heartbeat. She described him as the whole package to her friend. She’d like to suck on his lips, would she? Well, he’d like to suck on hers, too, both pair. If only she knew what he could do with his lips—and other parts of his body. She moaned his name in her sleep, and he smiled. Perhaps he should give her a preview of what to expect when he took her. And he would, soon. There could be no other option.

  He stood, adjusted his aching cock, and walked to the bed. With a light stroke to her temple and a murmured, “Sleep,” she relaxed completely. He raised her hands above her head and curved her fingers around the carved, filigree on her headboard, stretching her out for his casual inspection.

  “Beautiful,” he said softly, then spread her legs wide. And she was as beautiful at her center as she was everywhere else. Waxed and neatly trimmed, her pussy called to him to pet her. Already she was wet and swollen. He touched her mind again. Her dreams were of him, of touching him, of being touched by him.

  Sitting next to her hips, he kicked off his shoes. The bed was soft, a combination of memory foam and goose down. Rich colors, soft fabrics—she was such a sensualist. He made himself comfortable and allowed his eyes to wander over her supple body, a body made for the act of loving, athletic but soft in all the right places. She was the one. A red halo surrounded her, an invitation to him alone. How long had he waited? How long had he wanted?

  He reached out, drawing his fingers up her rib cage to the tip of her breast, letting the softness of her skin, the energy of her being, sink in to him. He’d never felt such urgency before––urgency to forge an unbreakable bond between them. He stroked her nipples to attention, fascinated by how they puckered, going from a dusky pink to dark at his touch. He leaned down to suckle. Her head rolled to the side, and her hips flexed. Arching against his mouth, she moaned.

  “Yes. Yes, Olivia, feel my mouth on you. Luxuriate in the sensations I wring from your body.”

  Noah fought to deny his need for a deeper taste. A red haze of hunger fought for control. With his ministrations kicking her heart rate up a notch, he could almost hear the blood singing through her veins. Every fiber of his being demanded he take her, feed from her, turn her, make her his for all eternity. She was his mate. The Yin to his Yang, the light to his dark. The compulsion to take her battered him. He wouldn’t take that step unless she knew what he was and gave her consent. But he could, and would fuck her, and soon.

  He charted a leisurely course with his hand, across her belly and reached to cup her mound, parting the dark curls, dipping into her center with one finger. She smelled of sweet magnolia and exotic spice, and Jesus, she was hot and wet! He tugged at a nipple with his mouth while he coated his finger with her juices, then tapped her clit. Her hips jerked, and he was lost.

  He lifted her hips and placed a pillow under her ass. Wedging his shoulders between her legs, he used his thumbs to open her labia. Dear God, she was so pretty and pink, glistening with proof of her arousal. He lapped at her, savoring the salty-sweet taste of her—like Aphrodite rising from the surf, her scent and taste were fresh, yet earthy. Her clit swelled, begging for attention, and he sucked it between his lips, nursing the little bud as he’d her nipples.

  She was moaning, crying out and grinding her pussy against his mouth. “Yes, Noah! Ah, God, I need to come. Make me come!”

  Who was he to deny her demands? He gave her two fingers, groaning when she grasped them tightly. He’d make her come all right. He added another and started pumping, gently at first, then with more vigor, she cried out.

  Tongue and fingers worked in concert, eliciting a symphony of sexual satisfaction when she went over the edge, she came twitching and shuddering .

  * * * *

  She blushed her way through the entire day. Oh my God, I can’t believe I had an erotic dream about my new boss! She’d awakened sticky and sated with vivid memories of a voracious tongue sucking her clit while strong fingers fucked her into oblivion. How was she ever going to face him? She fanned her face with her hand.

  Now here she was, key in hand, sated from a round with her shower massager, needing to check out the surveillance equipment. She had to make sure the floodlights held back the dark, the cameras were properly placed, and functioning properly. It was state of the art equipment and would probably only require some tweaking. It’s your job, idiot, just do it! She took a deep breath, plunged the key in the lock, entered the building, and came face-to-face with the man of her dreams.

  “Good evening, Ms. Sheppard.” Noah’s intense gray eyes pinned her to the spot. An amused smile flitted across his face.

  “Good evening, Mr. Lazarus.” She averted her gaze from his full lips, lips that had devoured her in her dreams last night. Yesterday, she had thought of tasting him, but her dreams had been filled with him tasting her. Normally, she didn’t have fantasies about people she worked with. It didn’t help that Noah Lazarus was a walking fantasy—or walking romance novel cover model. Everything about him was tasty and delicious, and she hadn’t had time to prepare for the impact he would have on her after that dream. Her heart sped up, and her face heated with an irritating embarrassment. Jeeze, get a freaking grip!

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Is anything the matter, Ms. Sheppard? You seem . . . distressed.”

  “I’m fine, sir. Just didn’t sleep well last night.” Liar,
liar, pants on fire. You slept like a rock. It’s the waking part that has you distressed.

  “I see, well, perhaps you’ll rest better once you’re satisfied the security system is up to snuff.”

  “Says you,” she mumbled unintelligibly.

  “Sorry? I didn’t quite catch that.”

  Heat suffused her. Oh, God! I’m turning into a mumbling idiot! “Nothing, sir. I just said, I hope so.”

  Lord, there came that devastating smile again. “As do I, Ms. Sheppard.” He started to turn away, then paused. “By the way, would you mind if I called you Olivia. I find the formality between us a bit . . . distancing.”

  “Not at all, sir. Olivia would be fine.” Especially since last night, in my dreams, you gave me the most intense orgasm I’ve ever experienced.

  “And you will call me Noah, dispensing with the sir, naturally.”

  She nodded. “Naturally, si––Noah.” She fidgeted a moment longer, capturing her bottom lip between her teeth. He really did have the most disconcerting eyes, and the look he gave her hinted that he knew full well he was the reason for her unrest. Oh, God!

  Chapter Two

  Filled by the preparations for the grand opening, the week passed quickly Olivia was exhausted. And now it was finally opening night.

  She shivered in her sexy black, silk-cashmere dress. The back was open to just past her waist, with a rhinestone button at the back of her neck to keep the thing from sliding off her shoulders. Three-inch, sling-back pumps would bring her to about nose height with her two employers. A long silver chain, knotted below her clavicle, hid a tiny microphone, and an earpiece curved around her right ear, concealed by her long, dark hair. She nodded at the doorman to begin admitting customers. “It’s showtime, folks,” she murmured. “Everyone to your stations.”

  The night wore on, and she had very little time to ponder the whys of her erotic dream about her employer. She’d given up on trying to understand why Noah Lazarus invaded her thoughts. She tucked the dream away like a secret pleasure, and forced herself to be professional whenever dealing with him one-on-one. Now she floated from room to room, chatting with guests, talking with servers and bartenders, and generally making sure people stayed within the limits of the law. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, and she was pleased for Noah. Everything was going perfectly, until Gavin Hargrove IV walked through the door and into the game room.

  Loud voices and breaking glass shattered the calm of the evening, and Olivia ran toward the game room on the heels of one of her bouncers. A heated argument was underway. Gavin Hargrove attempted to coerce his former girlfriend from behind the back of her new boyfriend. To the man’s credit, he wasn’t backing down from Hargrove. He brandished a pool stick as though it were a sword.

  “Back off, Gavin,” the new boyfriend shouted. “She’s with me now!”

  “The hell she is,” Hargrove slurred, obviously drunk. “Nobody leaves me!”

  To her horror, Olivia saw he was wielding a ceramic knife—undetectable to the security equipment each patron had to pass through to gain entry into the club. Fuck! Just what we need on opening night! Worse, when he saw the bouncer approaching, Hargrove waved the knife. Time to act. She pasted a smile on her face and stepped into the fray.

  “Gentlemen, is there a problem here?” Duh, of course there was. She continued to smile at Hargrove. Time to play on old acquaintances. “Gavin, is that you?”

  He blinked, studying her. “Who the fuck are you?”

  Olivia gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Nice to know I’m so memorable. I’m Olivia Sheppard. You were at my coming-out, remember? I’m Harlan and Amanda Sheppard’s daughter.”

  Hargrove blinked, swaying on his feet. “Olivia Sheppard?” He grinned, a little puddle of drool forming at the corner of his cruel mouth. “Gangly little thing with braces? You grew up, eh? All soft and curvy. Heard you left town.”

  A seductive smile curved her lips. “I did, but I’m back now.”

  The entire room seemed to hold its breath while she approached him, and with a sympathetic tone, she said, “You look tired, sugar.” He frowned when she neared. “Why don’t you come have a cup of coffee with me. We’ll catch up on old times.”

  She was just about to reach for the knife when his eyes widened. “I heard about you. You were some kind of federal cop!”

  He lunged, taking a swipe with his knife, but she sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and pivoted, swinging him around. When she jammed his arm up between his shoulder blades, he struggled and then yelped against her increased pressure. He dropped the knife.

  “Fucking, dike whore!” he howled.

  “Get control of yourself, Gavin, before I snap your arm off and beat you with the damned thing.” Her soft voice held a menace acquired through years of dealing with recalcitrant soldiers. She used that tone with him now, easing him backward out of the room while her employee secured the knife. “Do you have a driver outside?”

  The man groaned. “Yes. Just let me go. I’ll leave, I swear it!”

  No one missed the deadly smile on her face. “Yes, you will leave, Gavin, and you won’t come back here again. And you’ll leave that girl alone. Do we understand one another? Because if anything happens to her or her young man, I will certainly call the authorities. And I know people, sugar. Powerful people.” She eased him toward the door and, when it opened, shoved him through it. “We also have the assault on tape.”

  She stood, with arms folded across her chest, and watched his limo drive off, then hurried back inside to discuss the incident with Ian.

  She approached Ian, who had posted himself outside the fantasy room. “How’s it going? Sorry I haven’t been back here to check before now. The sixties room is really hopping. I’ve already had to confiscate several sets of keys and call cabs for people. Not to mention the incident in the game room.”

  Ian smiled. “It’s all good. You handled it perfectly. Everything is going well, so no sweat. Noah will go through the security tapes with you when we close up, but I think you’ve done an excellent job making sure everything runs smoothly.”

  She couldn’t help but feel the heat suffusing her cheeks. She’d be alone with her gorgeous boss? “Good. I’ll just go do another walk-through.”

  He lightly grasped her wrist. “It will be all right, Olivia.”

  Her pulse jumped in her throat. Where the hell did that come from? “I beg your pardon?” He stared for a long moment, then shrugged. “Whatever it is that’s troubling you. It will be all right.”

  At first, it occurred to her to protest that nothing was wrong, but why waste her breath. Was her discomfort that obvious? “I’m fine, really. I’ve just had a few restless nights of late.”

  Ian nodded. “I’m sure things will get better very soon. Try to get some rest.”

  “Yes, I’m sure they will.” She offered him a reassuring smile. “I’ll see you at closing.” She looked at her watch. “Wow, actually, in about twenty minutes. I’d better make sure the bartenders issued last call.”

  * * * *

  The bartenders had, in fact, stopped serving, and Olivia sighed, locking the door after the last customer. She wound her way through the various corridors and entered the control room, smiling at Noah before slumping into a chair in front of the monitors, more aware of being alone with him than she’d ever been with a man. Her thoughts drifted to the erotic dream, a dream in which he had the starring role.

  She plucked out her earpiece and dropped it in her purse, then kicked off her shoes. “Ah, that’s better.” She wiggled her toes and chuckled at Noah’s questioning look. “There’s nothing better than kicking out of a pair of fabulous heels after a long night. So, shall we run the tape and see how we did?”

  Olivia jotted down some notes while the tapes played and explained several small adjustments she wanted to make with regard to camera positioning and clarity. “We want to make sure we have clear video of what’s happening in every room. If we’re ever robbed, the police will nee
d to be able to identify . . . oh, my.”

  She could barely swallow. The video feed from the fantasy room appeared on the bank of monitors. Somehow, despite the low light, the pictures came through crisp and clear. Shivers of electricity shot up Olivia’s spine while she watched. Every sexual activity imaginable, and some she hadn’t thought of, was displayed bright as day on the screens. It was more intimate than any porn movie, more sensually real than she ever could have expected. Mildly uncomfortable, and extremely embarrassed by the way her nipples puckered beneath her form-fitting dress, she licked her lips.

  “Does seeing this distress you, Olivia?” Noah asked, his husky voice, full of arousal and need, skated down her already sensitive nerves, and set her on fire.

  She met his storm cloud eyes, unable to control her own flare of response to the look of sheer lust on his face. “I . . . of course not. I just wasn’t expecting there would be footage from that particular room.”