"I'll change it to a C. I promise."

She released the tab. Ignoring the sweet lethargy in her limbs, she took a step back and regarded him sulkily. "I want an A."

She wasn't the only person in the room who knew how to play games.

"That you'll have to earn." He gestured toward her feet. "Give me one of those socks."

"Only one?"

"I'm nothing if not reasonable."

"I guess." She propped her foot on the edge of the bed and leaned slowly over her thigh. She drew the Powerpuff sock off as if it were a fishnet stocking, then stuck it in the waistband of his jeans.

"Very nice, indeed. I'll take that thong now."

"An A plus."

"For your body alone."

That was nice, especially since they both knew she was too thin and her thighs hadn't been near a StairMaster in forever. Still, long legs counted for a lot with men. "Only if you kiss me first."

"My pleasure, indeed."

This kiss was even slower than the others, more intense, world-cla.s.s. He tunneled his fingers in her hair. His jeans abraded her flesh. She could feel herself reaching the breaking point even before he hooked his thumbs in her thong, pushed it down, and went on his knees.

She let her head fall back as he buried his face. He inhaled her in the way good men did. And bad ones, too, for that matter, but no need to worry about that when she was the only sinner in the room. He pushed open her thighs. One of his hands cupped her bottom.

He devoured her.

Her legs lost their strength, but he held her in place with his ma.s.sive palm, keeping her right where he wanted, open and accessible.

Her o.r.g.a.s.m caught her by surprise. She let out a strangled cry.

He stayed with her through the waves, then laid her on the bed as if she were a doll. He got tangled in his jeans, and his unusual clumsiness made her lips curve in a slumberous smile. He'd come prepared, she noticed, as he dragged a thoughtful, but unnecessary, condom from his pocket.

Finally naked, he pushed her to her back and trailed his mouth from nipple to belly and then below. Who could have predicted such earthy generosity from so fastidious a man? She dug her hands into his thick hair, rough silk under her fingers. He toyed with her, bringing her to the brink again, but never quite letting her tumble over. She rolled to her side to return the favor.

Drunk on sensation they explored-touching and tasting, trading sweet s.m.u.t and breathy groans, making themselves crazier and crazier. She tried to close her legs so she could torture him more, but he would have none of it.

"Don't even think about it."

He caught an ankle, the one still wearing the sock, and pressed it high on the bed. Then he clasped her opposite knee, pushed it wide, and thrust himself deep inside her, not being brutal about it-he was too big for that-but not being all that careful either. Just as if he could read her mind.

She wrapped her legs around him, and their bodies locked in the rhythm of longtime lovers. The muscles in his back quivered beneath her hands. He angled his hips, cupped her bottom, found a new spot to please her.

She arched, cried out. Their gazes locked. For one startling moment, a shock of recognition pa.s.sed between them, something soul deep and very important. But before it could find a name, the cataclysm swept them away.

"I declare, I could kill Vidal! It is so unthinking of him to ravish honest girls..."

GEORGETTE HEYER, Devil's Cub.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

Sugar Beth rolled to her side. "I'm done with you. You can go."

His breathing hadn't yet returned to normal, so she was probably rushing him, but she was a lot more shaken by what had just happened than she intended to let him see. Meaningless s.e.x was allowed to feel good, but it wasn't allowed to feel important, and that's what might have happened if she hadn't kept up her guard.

She felt Colin watching her as she walked naked across the room. She remembered his threat to fire her and told herself not to entertain even the possibility that he'd stick to his guns.

"That was only a warm-up, my dear," he said, in his royal family drawl. "I'm definitely not done with you."

"No man ever is. But I have things to do, and, alas, none of them involves you."

"Is that so?"

Just looking at him propped against her pillow, chest damp with sweat, that dramatic dark hair even more rumpled than usual, made her want to climb right back in and let him work his magic all over again. But she needed to get her barricades back in place, so she picked up his jeans and tossed them on the bed. "You were fabulous. Inspired, even. Go home and recuperate. I'll see you in the morning."

His languor faded, and he raised one knee beneath the sheet that had fallen low on his hips. "I believe we already discussed this."

"Don't make me bargain for my job with more s.e.x. You'll only feel tawdry."

"G.o.d, you're full of it."

He was right about that, but before he could drive his point home, she tried to make a dash for the bathroom only to have him catch her long before she got to the door and drag her back to bed. "Not so fast. There's an interesting perversion I stumbled across in my research recently."

"What kind of perversion?"

He slipped his hand between her legs, and the way his fingers moved made her forget that she didn't have her defenses back in place. "I'm sure it would be too much for you."

She nipped at his shoulder. "Maybe if you're extra gentle?"

"Or maybe not."

And that was the last either of them said for a very long time.

Much later, when she emerged from her second bath of the morning, her bed held only a disgruntled ba.s.set hound. The time she'd spent in the tub had sobered her, and she sank down on the edge of the mattress. Gordon inched over and propped his head on her thigh. One long, floppy ear fell across her knee.

She dropped her head and fought back the tears. All morning she'd tried not to think about Emmett, but the ghosts could only be kept at bay for so long. She'd just severed another tie with him. Which was the thing about watching a loved one die a slow death. There was no clean break, no single moment of overwhelming grief, just an endless strand of losses. She rubbed Gordon's head. Clasped her knees.

Being with Colin had felt too good. But she couldn't blame herself for what she'd done, not after going for so long without a man's touch. At the same time, she had to make certain her old needy habits didn't come creeping back. She'd never let herself depend on another man for her happiness, and definitely not anyone as emotionally aloof as Colin Byrne.

The clock chimed downstairs, and she remembered this was Sunday. Colin was going to the concert, and she'd told Gigi she could visit this afternoon. She was in no shape for an angst-ridden teenager, but she could hardly ring Gigi up and tell her not to come, so she blew her nose, pulled on her jeans, fixed her makeup, then headed downstairs to clean up the breakfast mess.

Colin's kiss-off check lay on the counter. She picked it up. Two thousand dollars. His guilt ran deep, and she tore it up. She thought of Delilah. Once again, she considered the possibility of having her stepdaughter live with her, and once again she rejected it. Delilah enjoyed their shopping expeditions and restaurant lunches together, but after a few hours away from Brookdale she got agitated and begged to go home.

She was staring at the wall when Gigi arrived, wearing another of the ratty, oversize outfits that must be giving her parents fits. She bent down to give Gordon the attention he demanded. When she rose, she looked awkward and nervous. "I was supposed to go to the concert with them this afternoon, but I talked back to my dad."

"How convenient."

"Do you...uh...want to make some cookies or something?" She flushed, deciding too late that her big-city aunt was too worldly for cookie baking. Sugar Beth repressed a sigh. She couldn't deal with her own insecurities, let alone this child's.

"No flour," she said.

"That's okay. Making cookies is lame."

"Think so?" Sugar Beth could have told her she loved baking cookies nearly as much as she loved eating them, but she didn't want to encourage any more bonding.

"Maybe you could show me how you do your eye makeup? It's pretty cool."

Sugar Beth took in her baggy cords and faded T-shirt. "Aren't you afraid it'll clash with that trendy outfit?"

"I don't always dress like this."

"No?"

Gigi examined her thumbnail. "It's better this way."

"Better for who?"

A shrug.

Sugar Beth didn't have the energy to probe deeper. Eye makeup was safe. And it would be better for Gigi to learn makeup tricks from Sugar Beth than from her stick of a mother, or, G.o.d forbid, Merylinn, although Merylinn did have a nice touch with lip liner. She started to lead Gigi upstairs, then remembered the s.e.x-rumpled sheets. "I'll bring the stuff down here. The light's better."

"Okay. And then I sort of have a list."

"Of what?" Sugar Beth asked warily.

"Some questions I want to ask you."

Her head began to throb. She abandoned the eye makeup plan and made a beeline for the kitchen. "I need coffee."

"I drink coffee."

"Sure you do."

"I do!"

Fine. Let Ryan worry about caffeine addiction. She set up the coffeemaker, flicked the switch, and turned to see that Gigi had seated herself at the table and was dredging a piece of paper and a pencil stub from her pocket, all ready to take notes. "First, do you think it's better to be smart or popular? I think popular."

"They're not mutually exclusive."

"They are in Parrish."

"Not even in Parrish."

"You were smart," Gigi said, "but you got c.r.a.ppy grades, and it made you popular."

"I hate to disillusion you, but I got c.r.a.ppy grades because I had my priorities screwed up. And I would have been popular even if I got good grades."

"How?" Gigi abandoned her notes. "That's what I don't understand. How did you do it? You were rich like me. Didn't all the kids hate you for it?"

Sugar Beth was tired of letting the world watch her bleed, and she didn't want to talk about this now. Or ever, for that matter. But Gigi deserved an answer. "I was born with a false sense of superiority," she said slowly, "and I managed to manipulate everybody so they bought into it. It was great short-term, but you might have noticed it hasn't done zip for me long-term."

Gigi hadn't gotten the answer she wanted. "How exactly did you manipulate them?"

Sugar Beth glanced longingly toward the coffeemaker, but it hadn't finished brewing. She needed caffeine now, and she grabbed a c.o.ke from the refrigerator. "Want one?"

"No, thanks. I prefer coffee."

"Of course you do." She popped the top. Gigi waited, all big eyes and eager ears. Sugar Beth tried to think of what to say that would make sense to a thirteen-year-old, or even to herself. "The goal isn't to be popular, Gigi. The goal is to be strong."

"I don't feel strong," she said miserably.

Welcome to the club, kiddo. "n.o.body does when they're thirteen. But thirteen is a great time to start acc.u.mulating power. The right kind."

Gigi's face lit with interest. "That's what I want. I want to be powerful."

"But you want to be powerful right now, which isn't going to happen."

"You were powerful when you were thirteen."

Sugar Beth repressed a bitter laugh. "My power was an illusion. All the tricks I used to acquire it ended up backfiring on me as I got older. You want power that lasts. And you don't get it by being less than you are."

"I don't know what you mean."

"In your case it means pretending you're poor by disappearing inside ugly clothes, then blowing off schoolwork and hanging out with the wrong kind of kids."

Gigi looked outraged. "Just because Chelsea isn't rich..."

"This doesn't have anything to do with money. It has to do with brains, and from what you told me, Chelsea wasn't blessed with a full set. You, on the other hand, have more than your fair share, but you don't seem to be taking advantage of them."

"I'm not hanging out with geeks like Gwen Lu and Jenny Berry, if that's what you mean."

Sugar Beth remembered Winnie trying to make herself invisible as she walked down the school hallways. "Because you don't like them, or because you're afraid the other kids will make fun of you if you do?"

Gigi waited too long to respond. "Because I don't like them."

"Do you want real power or not?" Even as she asked the question, Sugar Beth wondered how she could pretend to have an answer.