"Sounds great." His tone didn't reveal a hint of his inner thoughts. Nor did his now blank expression. "I'll put hers at the top."

I didn't want to analyze why my heart suddenly squeezed painfully in my chest.

Chapter Eight

Sometimes, to properly stalk her prey and learn its habits, a Tigress must stealthily approach, watch and gauge before exploding into a rush of amazing speed and attacking. With carefully timed maneuvers, she can deliver the killing blow without her prey ever knowing she was there.

"What do you think of this one?"

I glanced up from the rack of black, brown and navy-blue dress suits. All were ankle length, plain and would conceal every inch of skin, protecting it from a man's naughty gaze. When I saw my cousin's selection, I frowned. "I am not wearing that…that…X-rated napkin."

"What's wrong with it?" Mel gave the green minidress she held a once-over, even brushed her fingers down the split bodice.

"The hem won't cover the edge of my panties and the bodice opens to my belly button. You might not know this, but I'm not planning to make a few extra bucks on the side while I'm gone."

It was Wednesday night and we were hitting the bargain department stores instead of the nightclubs-Mel liked penny beer-all for the sake of my upcoming trip to Colorado with Royce. Apparently, a new shipment of green clothes had arrived only the day before. When Mel and Kera learned of this, they had demanded we go shopping. Being the meek, mild woman that I am, I relented. And my capitulation had nothing to do with wanting to look good for Royce. I swear.

Did the old "fingers crossed" thing still work?

"Try it on, at least," Mel persisted just as the BlueJay in my purse erupted in a series of beeps. "And for God's sake, turn that thing off."

"I can't." Scowling, I dug inside my purse and pounded the stupid thing front and back. It beeped every hour, reminding me of my upcoming trip. Royce, the diabolical son of the devil, had programmed it in such a way that I couldn't turn it off or turn down the volume. Too, the screen continued to flash crap like, "You'll have fun on our trip, I promise."

Once the beeping stopped, I surveyed Mel's choice of ho-wear again. "I'd feel better covered in body paint."

"Now there's an idea," she said with a sly grin.

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't stop my own grin. "Even if I was willing to parade around like a living porno ad, I don't want to wear anything green. I'd just look like a lumpy bowl of pea soup. Or worse, an overused snot rag. I don't care how much Royce likes the color. I'm. Not. Wearing. It."

"What about this one?" Kera held up a conservative mint-green pantsuit. "It's fifty percent off."

"And it's still green," I said, my voice heavy with exasperation. Did they never listen to me?

"Sister dear," Mel said, "she's flying to Colorado -with Royce Powell, I might add-not a summit for sexually repressed librarians."

Kera chuckled. "You're right."

"Think ski bunny," Mel said. "Sexy," she continued. "Wild. Uninhibited."

"I'm not trying to seduce him," I told them.

"Oh, please," both said in unison.

"I'm not. Really." How many lies could one woman tell in a single day before God could no longer forgive her? When I was a little girl, my mom used to tell me the limit was 490 times a day. I think I was dangerously close to reaching that.

"You may not allow yourself to try," Mel said wickedly, knowingly, "but you want to. Bad."

I didn't try to deny it, but I didn't audibly agree with her, either. She took my silence for refusal.

"I thought you had a brain in that skull of yours," she mumbled. "If you don't want to seduce him, we need to get you a prescription for Viagra for women ASAP."

"Maybe we should take her in for a CAT scan," Kera suggested.

"Guys, I'm a hardened bitch with relationship scars. That's all there is to it." I ran my fingertips down the lapels of a wool jacket. "No amount of drugs or medical testing will change that."

"True." Mel.

"You're right." Kera.

Hey, weren't they supposed to defend my character? Weren't they supposed to assure me that I might have internal scars, but an entry in the Bedroom Olympics would do me some good?

"Still," Mel finally said, "I think the whip and feathers we gave you at your non-party will go a long way towards helping you overcome your bitchiness."

An image of Royce tied facedown to my bed, his naked body bared for my viewing pleasure while I whipped him then soothed the ache with feathers-or my tongue-filled my head. My nipples instantly hardened and the juncture between my thighs ached.

"Well, hello ladies." Mel laughed. "Something I said got through to your hormones." She flicked a pointed glance at my breasts.

Cheeks heating, I quickly covered them with my hands. I should have worn a padded water bra-yes, I owned one and I wasn't ashamed. Small-breasted women had to do what small-breasted women had to do to fill out their shirts properly. That would have kept my traitorous nipples hidden.

"So you aren't as immune to him as you would have us believe." Kera lifted a green floral sundress and held it to her petite frame. "Why else would you have kissed him? Twice."

"Shut up," I said.

"We aren't the Tattler. You don't have to deny, deny, deny with us."

"It's obvious you two want each other," Kera continued. She twirled around, the dress she held dancing at her knees. "So what's the problem? Seduce the man, and get it out of your system. Sex doesn't have to be a major commitment."

I knew she didn't believe those words, just as I knew what she was trying to do. Kera thought if I slept with Royce, I would fall in love and suddenly decide I wanted to marry him.

What if she wasn't far off the mark? That's what scared me most. Still, that was no reason to tell the man to read Kera's application. Bad Naomi.

"Sex is a major commitment to Royce," I said. I snatched the dress from her and hung it back on the rack. No green.

"Just because of that article?" Mel asked doubtfully, flipping through another mound of napkins/dresses. "It could have all been a joke, you know. Or even an exaggeration. The media always distorts the news."

"The press was right this time. I know because-" Jeez, it was time I came clean and revealed exactly what was going on. I hadn't told them everything, and they deserved to know. "He proposed. To me."

"Proposed?" In the next instant, Kera grabbed me by the shoulders, spinning me around to face her. "As in, he asked you to marry him?"

I bit my bottom lip. "Well, yeah."

My petite, delicate cousin shook me once, twice. "So what did you say?"

"No, of course."

"No, of course, she says." Kera threw up her hands and swung to face Mel, her blond locks whipping me in the face. "Did you just hear what this foolish woman said? Can she possibly be related to us? Naomi turned down a man who looks like Colin Farrell, is richer than God and finds her so desirable he can't live without her."

"Now wait just a-"

"I'm having trouble believing it myself." Mel tsk-tsked under her tongue. "It's one thing to say you're never going to get married, but it's quite another to actually reject such a man's proposal. Naomi, Naomi, Naomi. Do we need to have you committed for being mentally unstable?"

"I never said anything about him being unable to live without me. He never said anything of the sort, either." Well, he kind of did. He'd said some of the most wonderful things to me, things that continually swept through my mind, weakening my knees. He'd thought about me for six whole months. He'd dreamed about me. He loved me.

"He implied it with his proposal," Mel said. Hooking her red-streaked bangs behind her ear, she leveled a pointed stare at me. "If you won't consider the marriage thing, at least say you'll think about that wild affair with him."