She nodded. "Yes. A very nice woman in a horrible situation. I think she probably was reaching out for help, for contact with another human being. It was her last chance to trust someone, and along comes someone like Xavier...."

"It's disgusting," he bit out.

"Tyber... why did you write out such a large check to him? What if he had taken it?"

"It was a calculated risk. First, I told him we couldn't attend tomorrow, letting him think this was his last shot at us. Then I took out my checkbook to confirm his supposition. I thought if I casually invited him to the mansion as I wrote out a check, he would see the possibilities in a future, even larger donation." The corners of his mouth lifted slightly in private amusement. "Something to tide him over the long winter."

"Is that why you invited him next weekend?"

"Yes. We need more time with him. Seeing him at seminars occasionally over the winter isn't going to cut it. We need to develop a more intimate relationship with him. Don't forget, we don't know what we're going after to entrap him."

"Smart. But what if he had taken the check anyway? That was an awfully large check, Tyber."

He shrugged unconcerned. "As I said-a calculated risk."

"So... what did we see?"

Tyber exhaled a long breath. "I'm not sure yet. But I promise you-I will figure out exactly what scam he's pulling."

"You don't think he has some genuine ability and is using it to manipulate people, do you?" Silly as it seemed, she was almost afraid to ask this question.

"Absolutely not. What we saw in there was impressive, but it was showmanship. He did something...."

"But how? You saw yourself-his shirt was rolled up way above his elbows. He wasn't concealing anything in his sleeves. I watched his hands closely-he didn't palm anything. Everyone was surrounding him. There was no sleight of hand."

"I know. I observed that as well...." His words trailed off. Deep in thought, brow furrowed, Tyber drove the rest of the way to the inn in silence.

True to his word, when Zanita came out of the tub dressed in one of the terrycloth robes the inn provided, she spotted Tyber sitting in the large chair in front of the fireplace, sipping a hot mulled cider.

He was wrapped in the other robe, his bare feet resting on the mantel, toes wiggling as he tried to warm his feet. He gestured to the other mug on the tray, then patted his lap.

Zanita gratefully took a sip of the hot drink as she curled up on his lap. "Mmm, this is good. I wondered why you left the tub so fast."

He ran his hand lazily down her back. "Someone had to wait for the drinks. I think I'm actually starting to feel my toes again."

"It was horrid, wasn't it? I hope my next investigation leads me someplace warm-like the Caribbean."

Tyber gave her an indulgent look. "Uh-huh. You ought to put that imagination of yours to work writing fiction. The Caribbean!"

Zanita sighed. "I know; more than likely my next piece will take me back into the wet bogs of cranberry country, sloshing through a quagmire of mud in search of beer-swilling aliens."

Not if I have anything to say about it. There was no way he was slogging through swamps with her In Search Of. He rubbed his freshly shaven jaw. "You know, baby, I'm serious. Why don't you think about it?"

"Maybe." She snuggled into him, yawning.

He smiled above her curly head. Here we have three factors in the Zanita Equation: a warm drink, a warm lap, and a toasty fire. These three factors combined could only add up to...

His blue eyes twinkled as he looked down at the woman fast asleep in his arms.

A sharp knock on the door to their room woke Zanita up the next morning. She heard Tyber mumble something incoherent next to her ear while she tried unsuccessfully to untangle their naked limbs.

The knock came again.

"Just a minute," she called out. "Tyber, move your leg!"

Tyber sleepily raised his head off the pillow. "Huh? Oh, the door-I'll get it." His head flopped back down onto the pillow. "Just give me a minute." He burrowed his arms back under the pillow, closing his eyes.

A disembodied chipper voice called through the door, "Room service!"

"Did you order room service?" She shook his shoulder. He blearily opened his eyes. Glass-blue orbs tried to focus on her.

"What?" His vision cleared. He smiled. "Oh, yeah! I ordered breakfast in bed for us last night." He threw back the covers, grabbing the terry robe on his way to the door.

Zanita eyed his backside appreciatively from the bed. Pity he had to cover those gorgeous buns, she thought.

Round. Smooth. Tight. Hard.

Just the way she liked them.

A real handful.

Tyber returned to the bed carrying a large wicker tray. His hair, as usual in the morning, was in sexy disarray around his shoulders.

"What d'ya got?" she asked, eyeing the tray with interest and thinking it was a very nice gesture on his part.

He placed the tray carefully on the bed, shucked his robe, and crawled back inside beside her. His body was still sleep-warmed. "Let's see..." He brought the tray across his lap.

"A little bottle of champagne, apple pancakes and maple syrup, some orange juice"-he took a sip-"fresh-squeezed, a basket of cinnamon rolls, and what appears to be homemade jam."

"Champagne for breakfast?"

"Of course." He uncorked the bottle with a pop. "Try it; it will do wonderful things for you in the morning." He poured her out a flute.

She tasted it appreciatively. "It does! I think the bubbles are actually invigorating!" She took another sip. "I think this could replace caffeine."

Tyber put a finger to his lips. "Shh. It'll be our secret." Zanita giggled. Smiling, he leaned over to place a quick kiss on her lips.

"Here you go." He handed her a plate of pancakes.

"Thanks; they look delicious."

"Mmm." His long lashes lifted slowly, revealing a devilish twinkle in his eyes. "Syrup?" The corner of his mouth quirked ever so slightly.

Tyber was teasing her with his "tunnel" allusion, reminding her of his "syrupy" quivering walls. Zanita blushed to the roots of her hair.

"You are outrageous!"

A dimple curved his cheek. When he spoke, his voice was a husky drawl. "I do my best for you, baby." He poured some syrup on her pancakes, ignoring her gape-mouthed expression.

Zanita decided it was wise to ignore Tyber when he got into one of these moods of his. She dug into her pancakes.

They were delicious, light and fluffy with chunks of fresh native apples. There were worse things in this world than having a champagne breakfast in bed, she decided. She leaned back against the pillows, closed her eyes, stretched her toes under the blanket, and sighed.

"More?"

"I don't think I could." She patted her stomach.

"I'm not talking about the breakfast." The sultry purr came from somewhere to her left. Her eyes snapped open.

He had removed the tray, placing it on the bedside table. And those ice eyes of his were regarding her with a sharp heat, focusing strictly on her mouth.

Under his intense scrutiny, her lips tingled, parting slightly. His pupils darkened and dilated.

It was difficult to form a cogent thought with him watching her like that. Her breath caught in her throat. The man was sizzling! Without a doubt, he was the sexiest male she had ever seen.

She attempted speech. "You're-you're not?"

"Well, I could be."

It took Zanita a moment to realize that he wasn't agreeing with her steamy assessment of him, but answering her question. In any case, she didn't have time to wonder about it because he lifted his hand, threading his fingers slowly through the curls on the side of her face, immediately capturing her attention.

With his other hand, he idly reached over to the tray to dip his index finger in a little pool of syrup left on one of the plates. His eyes never leaving her full mouth, he diligently traced her lips with the syrupy finger, leaving the sticky residue behind.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

This time he didn't answer her.

He just lowered his head to carefully lick the sticky syrup off her parted lips with the tip of his swirling tongue. It was a sultry dalliance of playfulness and demand.

"Tyber..." Zanita whispered his name against the brush of his velvet lips as they feathered across hers.

Very lightly, in the barest of caresses, he skimmed the backs of his fingers down the sides of her breasts, her waist, her hips. His flitting touch ignited sparks of yearning as he seemed to barely dance over her satiny skin.

All the while, his fluid tongue teased at the corners of her mouth. He gently probed her lower lip, laving across the seam.

Zanita lifted her mouth for his kiss, for the savory press of his mouth. When it came, she nimbly caught the tip of his tongue between her lips and gently suckled on him. He tasted deliciously of syrup and Tyber.

A thick sound issued low in his throat.

His uninhibited moan of desire resonated through her. There was a physics term he had taught her... what had Tyber called it?

Synchronous vibration.

Yes, now she understood it very well as a matching pulse of longing throbbed through her.

Tyber's beautiful mouth moved across her face, slowly, languorously. Passionately. His hot kisses swept across her in a fiery burst of controlled heat. A chaotic contradiction of the senses, he was somewhere between ambling and deliberate.

He took her breath away.

He reached for the syrup dispenser.

While Zanita watched him, eyes passion-glazed, his thumb pressed back on the spring mechanism, releasing a thin stream of the amber syrup. It slowly cascaded down the center of her breasts in a meandering pattern, pooling in her navel and, following the course of Tyber's direction, flowed down thick into the nest of curls between her legs.

Before she had the presence of mind to wonder what he was doing, he came over her.

His open mouth leisurely followed the trail of rich sap, consuming as he went with sensual sweeps of his tongue.

Zanita lay back against the pillows and gave herself over to this mind-drugging experience.

He scraped his tongue across the peak of one breast, letting her feel every tiny bump on its syrup-coated surface as he slid across her extended nipple. Then he caught just the tip between his teeth and tugged. She clutched his shoulders, moaning at the sheer erotic pleasure of it.

Strong, well-shaped hands came up to cup her breasts as he went about licking and sucking the syrup from her chest. The flat plane of her stomach. The little pool in her navel. And lower still...

Was he going to... ?

Zanita clamped her legs shut. She wasn't altogether sure about this.

Tyber hesitated, looking up at her. "What is it, baby?"

"I-I'm not sure..."

But I am. He rubbed his chin against the delicate skin of her lower belly. The faint stubble of his morning beard rasped against her, eliciting an acute response from myriad nerve endings. She shivered.

Tyber noted her response, felt her response. He softly blew against the nest of curls, watching the slick, glistening thatch part under his breath.

Zanita stopped breathing.

He lowered his head.

"Tyber-" She could feel his lips almost against her; his breath warm against her.

"Shh. I want to see if I can tell the difference between maple syrup and honey."

His raw words, so quietly yet so inexorably spoken, made her heart stop.

Then he was there.

Tasting her. Kissing her. Parting her and licking her in long, hot, relishing strokes of his tongue.

Zanita threw back her head, shuddering under the onslaught, her fingers clenching in the pillow above her. The pleasure so exquisite that it was almost painful. So intense that it was almost unbearable. When he found her hidden, now ultrasensitive, throbbing nub, she bucked off the bed calling out his name in a choked sob.

Tyber smiled against her, loving her feel, her taste. Especially her taste...

His hands slid under her, cupping her bottom, imprisoning her right against his face. He inserted his tongue inside her.

She came instantly against his mouth in powerful spasms, her body convulsing in great wracking tremors. And he felt every one of them.

When her body stopped shaking and had subsided into small quivers of sensation, he still stayed with her, reluctant to stop the tongue-loving he was giving her.