A ring?

"I'm not telling. You'll just have to see for yourself." His hand climbed up my leg and onto my stomach, gently rubbing away any lingering pain. "I found your Tigress book. It makes for some interesting reading. To be honest, I think you've already unleashed yours."

I closed my eyes as I savored the feel of him next to me, touching me. Offering me praise. I simply enjoyed. "What makes you think that?"

"You're strong. You don't take any crap. I'm willing to admit you've left me in a bleeding heap on more than one occasion. I doubt you'd ever let me take you for granted."

I was feeling sublimely peaceful, something I hadn't felt all night. What little sleep I'd had had been constantly interrupted with bouts of sickness and phone calls. Royce's voice drifted in and out of my mind, soft one minute, a little louder the next.

I wasn't sure, but I thought I heard him say, "But even tigresses have mates."

It was the last thing to float through my mind before I sank into a deep slumber.

How many hours passed, I didn't know. I only knew that Royce had taken care of me as I slept another day away, and that my phone was ringing again. So was the BlueJay that had been placed on the nightstand beside my bed. Where was Royce? Groggy, disoriented, but no longer in pain, I lifted the receiver. "Hello."

"Miss Delacroix, please," a sweet female voice said.

I woke up a bit and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. "This is she."

"This is Hannah Carroll from Powell Aeronautics."

"Who?"

"Mr. Powell's assistant."

Elvira, I realized. "Yes?"

"I've been instructed to ask how you're feeling," she said.

My glance shifted to my bedside clock. Nine a.m. I blinked in confusion. I'd slept for nearly the entire weekend. It was no longer Sunday. No, it was now Monday morning-breakfast with the twins. I'd already missed it I realized with disappointment. "I feel fine," I said. And I did. My stomach was empty, and I was a little weak, but that was the extent of it.

"I'm so glad to hear that." Her agreeable tone morphed into one of contempt. "Since you're feeling better, I've been instructed to confirm your appointment with Mr. Powell today at ten-thirty. If, however, you feel bad, I've been instructed to tell you to stay home." Now she sounded hopeful.

"You're mistaken." I rolled to my back, stretching my legs. "I don't have an appointment today."

"You're the one who's mistaken. I actually have you down in the appointment book this time."

"But isn't Royce here, at my place?" I searched every direction, looking for any hint of him. All that remained was the lingering scent of sandalwood.

"No, he is not at your place," Elvira growled. "He's here at the office. Where he belongs."

"Good for him. Goodbye, Ms. Carroll." I inched forward to replace the phone in its cradle, but her frustrated what-kind-of-monster-are-you yelp stopped me. Phone back at my ear, I said, "What now?"

"Because Mr. Powell just arrived back in town, today's schedule is tight. I absolutely cannot squeeze you in at any other time." She added grudgingly, "And he was adamant that he see you today if you were feeling better."

I sat up and propped my elbows on my knees. The thought of seeing Royce again made my heart leap and my blood heat. Sighing, I rested my head in my hands. "I'll be there," I said.

Which didn't give me long to get ready, and I wanted to look my best. I needed to look my best, if only to make up for the fright show I'd been yesterday. If I didn't blot that image out of his mind, I might as well end our association now.

I threw down the receiver, popped out of bed and climbed into the shower. The hot, steamy liquid cascaded over me, washing away all hints of sickness. I brushed my teeth three times and rinsed my mouth with burning, antibacterial mint wash for over two minutes. The bottle claimed thirty seconds would do it, but I wanted to make sure all germs were annihilated.

After I applied makeup, I blew dry my hair until it shone like an evening star, and I hurriedly shimmied into a dark red dress that hugged my curves and hit just below my knees. Not too businesslike, but definitely sexy. To be daring, I forfeited a bra.

Surely a braless woman could replace the memory of a hideous, puking beast monster. Still, I didn't want the rest of Powell Aeronautics to see me braless, so I pulled on a dress jacket. I checked out the finished product in the mirror and nodded with satisfaction. As good as it was going to get.

Time to confront Royce Powell.

Somehow, and Lord only knew how, I managed to make it to Powell Aeronautics with ten minutes to spare.

Elvira spotted me and glared. She looked immaculate behind her desk, as cold as stone and just as hard. She seethed with… jealousy?

Ohmygod. She wanted Royce for her own, I realized. I don't know why I hadn't figured it out earlier. Maybe because she didn't look like the kind of woman who had hormones. Or blood. Or a heartbeat. Still, she obviously viewed me and any other woman interested in him as a threat.

I couldn't help but wonder if she and Royce had ever had a relationship. Office affairs were the most common, after all. If they had, well, I'd-I'd-I didn't know what I'd do. Royce and I had slept together, yes, and he'd asked me to marry him. But I'd said no, so I couldn't really demand he fire his assistant and hire a fat old woman who smelled like mothballs and cheese. Better yet, a fat old man who smelled like mothballs and cheese.

Still, I knew how it felt to yearn for the attention of a man I couldn't have. (See any and all mentions of my marriage to Richard the Bastard for proof).

Be nice, be nice, be nice. Polite smile in place, I glided past her. "Good day to you, my good woman." Her features lit with astonishment, but she didn't try to stop me. I didn't knock on Royce's office door, but swept inside.

When I saw him seated at his desk, head bowed, I came to an abrupt halt. "I believe I have the ten-thirty appointment."

His eyes lifted from the papers on his desk and our gazes met. Blue against gray. Pleasure against pleasure. He offered me a warm, sexy smile. "I'm glad you could make it."

God, he looked good. Really, really good. Instead of skin and boxers, he wore a suit, minus the tie. His white button shirt was open at the collar. His hair looked like rumpled black silk, as if he'd just rolled out of bed.

"How do you feel?" he asked, setting the papers aside. He leaned back in his chair and rested one of his elbows against the armrest.

"Much better. Thank you for taking care of me."

"That was my pleasure."

Pleasure…yes, pleasure. I needed more of it. As I stared over at him, all my desires, all my body's needs, leapt to life. My (bra-less) nipples hardened, my mouth watered. I had to have this man again-and soon.

I wanted Royce in my life. I did. I'd already promised myself I could seduce him, but in that moment I admitted I wanted a sexually exclusive relationship. For as long as I could have him.

"My God," he suddenly breathed.

"What?" Automatically, I stepped back.

"Your dress."

So he'd noticed. Grinning inwardly, I twirled. The red hem danced around my knees. "Do you like it?"

"Darlin'," he said in a delicious Texas accent. "I don't think I've ever seen anything more beautiful." Standing, he propped his palms on the desk. "You're driving me crazy-you know that, don't you?"

"I'm glad."

"Glad?" he asked, incredulous. "You should be apologizing. I left an out-of-state meeting to see you. I think about you all the time. I dream about you."

"Well-" I licked my lips and gathered my courage "-you're driving me crazy, too. Where's my apology?"

"I'm willing to give you anything you want, sweetheart. I just wish you'd ask for more than an apology."