She came up behind him as he worked on the stake driver. His damp T-shirt clung to the strong muscles in his back. She remembered how that taut skin had once felt beneath her hands, but instead of arousing her, the memory filled her with self-hatred. Sheba Quest, the queen of the center ring, had begged for this man's love and been rejected. Her stomach curled with loathing.

"I need to talk to you about your act."

He picked up a greasy rag and wiped his hands with it. He'd always been a first-rate mechanic, and he'd somehow managed to keep the ancient stake driver running, but right now she couldn't summon any gratitude for the money he was saving her.

"Go ahead."

She shaded her eyes, taking her time, making him wait. Finally she spoke. "I think you need a change. You've only made a few variations in your act since the last time you went out with us, and there's too much of the season left for you to get stale."

"What do you have in mind?"

She pulled the sunglasses from the top of her head and folded in the stems. "I want you to put Daisy in it."

"Forget it."

"Afraid she won't be able to do it?"

"You know she won't."

"Well, then, you'll have to make her. Or does she wear the pants in the family?"

"What are you trying to do, Sheba?"

"Daisy's a Markov now. It's time she started acting like one."

"That's my business, not yours."

"Not while I own this circus. Daisy has a way with the crowd, and I intend to take advantage of it." She gave him a long, hard stare. "I want her in the show, Alex, and I'll give you two weeks to get her ready. If she needs persuading, remind her that I can still file a criminal complaint against her any time I want."

"I'm getting real sick of your threats."

"Then think about the good of the show instead."

Alex finished repairing the stake driver, then stalked to the trailer to scrub the grease off his hands. As he took a nail brush and a bar of Lava from a chipped saucer under the kitchen sink, he forced himself to acknowledge the truth of what Sheba had said. Daisy did have a way with the crowd, and although he hadn't admitted it to Sheba, he'd already thought about putting her in his act. He'd hesitated, however, because of the difficulties of training her.

The assistants he'd worked with in the past had all been seasoned circus performers, and the whips hadn't bothered them, but Daisy was full of fears. If she flinched at the wrong time ...

He pushed away the thought. He could train her not to flinch. His Uncle Sergey had trained him. Even when the show was over and the perverted son of a bitch was beating the shit out of him for some imagined offense, Alex had held himself completely still.

He'd mentally traveled the torturous path of his childhood too many times, and he had no interest in stirring up the muck again, so he pushed the old images away. There was another advantage to using Daisy as his assistant, one that was more important to him at the moment than simply sprucing up his act. This would give him a valid reason to ease her workload, a reason she couldn't argue with.

He still couldn't believe that she'd refused to let him make things easier for her. This morning when he'd started to insist, he'd seen something in her expression that had made him back off. Her work had become important to her, he realized, a survival test.

But regardless of what she thought, he didn't intend to let her drive herself into exhaustion. And whether she knew it or not, performing in the ring with him would be a lot easier than hauling elephant manure and cleaning out animal cages.

As he rinsed his hands and reached for a paper towel, he remembered how fragile she'd felt under his hands last night. Their lovemaking had been so good it scared him. He wasn't quite certain what he'd expected, but he'd never imagined that Daisy would have so many facets to her: sultry and tempting, innocent and unsure, both aggressive and giving. He'd wanted to conquer her and protect her at the same time, and that confused the hell out of him.

On the opposite side of the lot, Daisy stepped out of the red wagon. Alex wouldn't be happy when he saw that she'd been making long-distance calls on his cellular phone, but she was more than satisfied with what she'd learned from the keeper at the San Diego Zoo. He'd suggested some changes she was going to try: adjustments in the animals' diets, additional vitamins, alterations in their feeding schedules.

She walked toward the trailer, where she'd seen her husband heading a few minutes earlier. When she'd finished her work in the menagerie and gone to help Digger out, the old man had growled at her that he didn't need her help, so she'd decided to grab the extra few hours and make a trip to the library. She'd spotted it earlier as they'd driven through town, and she wanted to do some more research on the animals. First, however, she had to get Alex to part with the keys to his truck, which, until now, he'd refused to do.

As she entered the trailer, she saw him standing at the sink drying his hands. A silly sort of giddiness passed through her. He looked too big for such small confines, and she decided those dark, brooding good looks were better suited to roaming a nineteenth-century English moor than managing a twentieth-century traveling circus. He turned and she caught her breath against the impact of his amber eyes.

"I'd like to borrow the keys to the truck," she said when she found her voice. "I need to do some shopping."

"Are you out of cigarettes already?"

"You must not have noticed. I've stopped smoking."

"I'm proud of you." He tossed the damp paper towel in the trash, and she saw how his T-shirt clung to his sweat-dampened chest. A grease mark cut across the sleeve. "If you wait an hour or so, I'll drive you."

"I'd rather go alone. This morning I noticed a laundromat next to the town library. I thought I could do the laundry and catch up on some reading at the same time. Is that a problem?"

"Not exactly. I just think it might be better if I drive you."

"Are you afraid I'll run off with your truck?"

"No. I just-it's not really my truck. It belongs to the circus, and you're probably not used to driving anything like it."

"I'm an excellent driver. I'm not going to wreck it."

"You don't know that for a fact."

She held out her hand, determined to have her way in this. "Please give me the keys."

"I wouldn't mind a trip to the library myself."

She gave him her steeliest gaze. "The keys, please."

He rubbed his chin with his knuckle as if he were thinking it over. "I'll tell you what. Unbutton your shirt and I'll give you the keys."

"What?"

"It's my best offer. Take it or leave it."

As she saw what passed for mischief glinting in his eyes, she wondered how someone so serious could have such a playful nature when it came to sex. "You actually expect me to..."

"Uh-huh." He leaned back against the sink and crossed his arms over his chest waiting for her.

A flare of heat bolted through her as she saw the desire in his eyes. She was by no means certain she was ready for another sexual encounter with him, but on the other hand, what would be the harm in a little naughty foreplay? The dampness of her blouse reminded her she'd been working all morning and wasn't any too clean. On the other hand, neither was he, and after all, they were just playing around, so what did it matter?

She looked down her nose at him in her best imitation of royalty. "I'm certainly not going to use my body as barter. That' s offensive."

"I'm sorry you feel that way." He withdrew the keys from his pocket and, with exaggerated innocence, tossed them up and down in his palm.

The soft skin of her breasts prickled beneath her damp shirt, and the nipples pebbled. "How would you like it if I did something like this to you?"

"Sweetheart, I'd love love it." it."

Suppressing a smile, she slowly opened the top button. "Maybe just a peek." An inner voice told her she was playing with fire, but she ignored it.

"A peek might get you the key to the tailgate, but not the ignition."

She opened another button. "What do I have to do to get the ignition key?"

"Have you got a bra on?"

"Yes."

"You'll have to take it off."

She should call a halt to this game right now, but instead she opened another button. "You are are responsible for the truck, so I suppose it's only fair that you dictate the terms." responsible for the truck, so I suppose it's only fair that you dictate the terms."

He looked amused.

She took her time with the last buttons. When they were open, she lightly clasped the front edges of the blouse in her palms and toyed with them, deliberately teasing him even as she recognized that this was a dangerous sort of mischief. "Maybe I should think about this some more."

"Don't make me get rough." His smoky whisper didn't bear the slightest trace of menace, but it still made her shiver.

"Since you put it that way..." She parted the blouse, revealing the floral print bra that stuck to her skin.

"Open that clasp."

She toyed with it but didn't unfasten it.

"Do as I say and nobody'll get hurt."

She couldn't hold back a smile as she opened the clasp. Slowly, she peeled the moist lacy cups away from her breasts and stood before him like a wanton, fully dressed, but with her blouse open and her breasts exposed.

"Beautiful." His whispered compliment made her feel like the most treasured woman on earth.

"Good enough for an ignition key?"

"Good enough for the whole damn truck."

In two long strides, he had her in his arms. His mouth swooped down to cover hers, and the world spun like a crazy carousel. He shoved her blouse down over her shoulders, then clasped her hips and lifted her just enough so he could grind against her. She felt him hard and demanding and knew the time for teasing had come to an end.

Blood rushed hot and needy through her veins. She opened her mouth to his tongue as he swept her from her feet and carried her toward the bed where he dropped her none too gently on the mattress.

"I'm dirty and sweaty."

"I am, too, so we don't have a problem." With one powerful motion he stripped his grimy T-shirt over his head. "You're also overdressed."

She kicked off her grubby shoes and tugged at her jeans, but she wasn't working fast enough to please him.

"You're taking too long." Within moments, he'd stripped her so that she was as naked as he.

Her eyes took in his nude body with its whipcord strength and workingman's tan. Strands of hair on his chest feathered around the icon he wore. She needed to ask him about that. She needed to ask him about so many things.

As he lay down beside her, she smelled the earthy scent of sweat and hard work on both their bodies and wondered why she wasn't repulsed. There was something primitive about coming together like this that aroused her in a way she would never have been able to imagine. Her abandon embarrassed her. "I'm-I need to shower."

"Not till we're done." He pulled a condom from a small drawer in the chest beside the bed, tore it open, and put it on.

"But I'm so dirty."

He wedged her knees apart. "I want you like this, Daisy."

She moaned and sank her teeth into his shoulder as he thrust into her. She tasted salt and sweat and knew he was tasting the same on her breasts. Her voice caught in her throat. "I really need to wash."

"Later."

"Oh, God, what are you doing?"

"What does it feel like?"

"It feels like you're-"

"I am. Do you want more?"

"Yes. Oh, yes..."

The smells and tastes. The touches. The sweat and grit beneath her palms. The thrust and parry.

Her hair stuck to her cheeks, and a piece of straw poked her neck. He pushed his fingers into the cleft of her bottom and turned her on top of him, smearing grease from his arm down her side. He squeezed the backs of her thighs hard in his hands.

"Ride me."

She did as he said. She arched and plunged, moving instinctively, and then wincing as she hurt herself on him.

"Slow down, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere."

"I can't." She gazed at him through the haze of her pain and passion and saw his sweat-slicked face, lips drawn thin and pale. Flecks of dirt stuck to those harsh Russian cheekbones and a bit of straw clung to his dark crisp hair. Sweat trickled over her breasts. She plunged again and gasped with pain.

"Don't, sweet. Shh...take your time."

He slipped his hands up along her back and pulled her down to stretch out over him, breasts to chest where he helped her find a new rhythm.

The insides of her thighs clasped the outsides of his, the icon abraded her skin, and she moved on his body, slowly at first, then writhing, loving the sensation of being in control, of dictating the rhythm and thrust. There was no pain, only sensation.

He gripped her bottom and let her have her way. She knew by the coiled tension she felt in those hard muscles beneath her what it cost him to relinquish control. He sank his teeth into the flesh over her collarbone, not hurting her, merely using another part of her body to fill another part of his.

She gave herself up to skin and sweat and musk. He made incoherent sounds and she answered in the same language. Both were lost to all that was civilized, thrown back to the jungle, the cave, the place of wildness until, for one suspended moment, they gripped creation's source.