"How does it work with three of us? Will you just take turns? Or..."

"Or?"

She shook her head. "You're the one with all the answers. Just tell me."

Her expression told him she knew what his response would be. Even so, he'd just promised they wouldn't have secrets. "Tonight, I suspect we'll take turns as you said. You're new to this and neither of us wants to hurt or scare you."

"But," she prompted.

"Eventually, we will expand on your experience."

"How?" Her voice was growing stronger with each question, her curiosity stronger than her reticence.

He liked her best when she was in the mood to challenge him. "We're going to f.u.c.k your a.s.s and your mouth and I have every intention of putting my c.o.c.k between those pretty t.i.ts of yours and-"

"Got it." She raised her hand. "I don't need to hear anything else."

"Are you okay with that?"

"Do I have a choice?"

He frowned. "You will always have a choice."

She seemed genuinely surprised by his response. "Oh. Well, I think I'd like to try that."

"Which part?"

She looked away as she said, "All of it."

He chuckled. "Good. But I think we'd better change the subject or I'm going to forget all about Gunner and take you right here in the limo."

She gave him a wicked grin. "Probably not a good idea to p.i.s.s off a man with a gun."

Price placed his arm along the backseat, stroking her hair. "I'm not worried. Mine's bigger."

"Overcompensating for something?"

He tugged on her hair and laughed. "You're a minx. And you're only baiting the bear. New topic. Who do you think did that to your apartment?"

Denise sobered up and shrugged. "I have no idea."

"It didn't seem like that earlier. When we discovered the paint on the wall, you called them a.s.sholes. It sounded like you suspected someone."

"I gave a speech a few months ago at the library about the importance of stem-cell research. We were trying to raise funds for a new project we're working on. Grant money has been harder and harder to come by in this economy. There were some protestors there. They caused a ruckus and the police even arrested their leader, some scary-looking dude they all called the Reverend, although if he's ordained in any legitimate church, I'd be seriously shocked."

"What was their protest based on?"

"The same old controversy that always surrounds my research. There are a lot of people who disagree with scientists using human embryos. But if the idiot had listened to my speech instead of climbing on his soapbox and spouting inanities, he would have heard me say we rarely use human tissue at the inst.i.tute as it's very hard to get. Most of my work is done with Mus musculus."

Price tilted his head and she laughed.

"Sorry. Fancy name for mice. In the mouse cell we only use trophoblastic cells, which are the cells that eventually become the chorion, the embryonic placenta. They are the inner ma.s.s cells, which actually become the embryo we leave alone. We believe-"

Price held up his hand to stop her. "Let's cut to the chase. Do you think this Reverend guy could be behind the break-in?"

She shook her head. "I'm afraid he's just one of many who aren't fond of my work. I can't really point the finger at him specifically. I mean, we've been getting some pretty nasty phone calls lately at the lab, but the voice is always female, so that's obviously not the Reverend. Then someone keyed the door of my car. I've been driving around town for two weeks with the word Satan scratched in the paint. I haven't had time to take it to the shop to get it fixed."

Price's temper flared as she described the attacks. "Did you report any of this to the police?"

She lifted one shoulder, casually dismissing the danger. "No. I've been busy and none of it was that terrible. Until tonight." Her voice broke a little on the last word. Price was almost relieved to spy that slightest bit of emotion on her part. She'd been too calm since they'd left her apartment.

"I'm sure your insurance policy will cover the damages. Besides, you may not need to replace it all. My house is fully furnished."

She frowned. "So?"

Price didn't have time to answer as the limousine pulled up in front of the hotel. "We'll finish this discussion when Gunner arrives."

Roman opened the door and Price helped Denise out of the car. He held her hand, marveling at the difference a few hours could bring. He'd begun the day a footloose, fancy-free bachelor, and then spent the majority of his afternoon p.i.s.sed as s.h.i.+t. Tonight, he would fall asleep with his virgin bride and an FBI agent. He chuckled to himself.

Life had just become intriguing.

Chapter Three.

Gunner stood outside the door to the hotel suite, staring at the keycard in his hand. Nothing about today had turned out the way he had expected. And yet, he couldn't imagine a better outcome. He'd had a thing for Deni Parker since the first day they'd met. Unfortunately, geography and the Trinity Masters had kept him from pursuing her. He knew he'd never be satisfied with a long-distance relations.h.i.+p and he never doubted he would fall in love with her. Because of his members.h.i.+p in the Trinity Masters, he'd held back, unwilling to risk her heart-and his-on something that couldn't last.

He pressed his head against the cool wood of the door and grinned. Deni was part of the Trinity Masters. She was the last person on earth he would have pegged as a member, but now that he thought about it, it made sense. There was no denying she was brilliant. Beneath her wrinkled clothing, wholesome face and endearing shyness lurked an intelligent mind and a kind heart. That combination had been deadly to his libido for years.

Now she was his. They'd pledged to spend their lives together.

With Price.

Price Bennett was the reason Gunner wasn't throwing open the hotel door and rus.h.i.+ng straight into Deni's arms. The man was a crouching tiger in a two-thousand dollar custom-made suit. He was the unknown variable. And after nearly a decade with the FBI, Gunner had come to hate indefinites. It was his job to uncover secrets, expose lies, and he was determined to figure Price out.

The problem was time. He didn't have any. Once he entered the hotel room, for better or worse, he was going to have to put his trust in a man he didn't know. And that was something he'd never done before. While waiting for the bomb squad to disarm the device in Deni's apartment, Gunner had run a background check on Price.

He had to admit what he'd discovered about the man professionally impressed him. Price was the CEO and owner of one of top-if not the best-international security companies in the world. He had offices in Boston, New York, London, Istanbul and Hong Kong and his employees had protected everyone from princes to rock stars to amba.s.sadors.

The success of his Fortune 500 company, along with a pile of old family money, had landed Price a spot on the list of the world's most eligible billionaires for three years running. Needless to say, the man had a reputation as a lady-killer. He'd been romantically linked to two movie stars, a fas.h.i.+on model and the reigning queen of Billboard's Top 40 list.

While the three of them were supposed to be partners, not adversaries, Gunner suspected battle lines would be drawn quickly if Price did anything to hurt Deni. He'd spotted the man sitting in her office earlier, prior to the ceremony. Now he understood what Deni meant by a long story.

Given Deni's shocked response when Price removed his hood, she hadn't been expecting-or thrilled-by the match. In fact, until discovering the break-in at her apartment, Gunner had gotten a sense Deni was afraid of Price.

He didn't blame her. He was well aware of Deni's inexperience with men. Price seemed to be ten men rolled into one. And while Price would be hard enough for Deni to handle on her own, she didn't have just him to contend with. She had Gunner as well. As much as he wanted to take tonight slow, to offer Deni the magic and romance she deserved, he feared he didn't have it in him. Price's presence was a challenge. He had wanted to be the one at the ceremony grasping Deni's face and giving her that hard, open-mouthed kiss he guaranteed she'd never forget.

He wasn't an easy lover. He'd never played that role, but Deni would likely cast him in it because to her he was easygoing, friendly, harmless Gunner. Somehow he had to open her eyes to the real Gunner, reveal the true man without frightening her or losing her trust.

Gunner straightened. There was only one path to walk. And it was through this door.

He entered the suite. It was incredibly elegant, luxurious. Price stood behind a bar, pouring a drink while Deni sat on a plush loveseat. She'd obviously showered, her long blonde hair still damp and neatly brushed back. She appeared to be wearing one of Price's company T-s.h.i.+rts, the Bennett Security logo emblazoned on it. It was ridiculously large and hung to her knees. Clearly even that wasn't enough material for Deni as she continued to tug it lower. Without makeup and her hair hanging loose, she looked incredibly young. Her shyness was going to present a very big obstacle for them.

He nodded once when Price silently lifted a bottle of whiskey and pointed to him. He watched as the other man poured out two shots. He could use a belt. Or three.

Deni had already helped herself to a drink. A half-full winegla.s.s sat on the side table next to her.

"Was it a bomb?" she asked.

He crossed the room and sank down next to her. "I'm afraid so. It's been disarmed. My friend at the FBI took it back to the office to study. Maybe the design will trigger an MO, give us a suspect. He wants to question you tomorrow morning." Gunner looked at Price. "I'm going to ask him to come here. I suspect this place is secure enough. I'd rather not risk taking Deni out in the open until we determine exactly how serious this threat is."

Price claimed the chair across from them. "I'd say a bomb makes it pretty d.a.m.n serious, but I agree. It's too dangerous to take her out in the open. The man can come here to talk to her."

Deni leaned forward, piercing them both with her glare. "Oh, I'm sorry. When did I leave the room?"

Gunner grinned. Deni was equal parts sweet and sa.s.sy. "Deni," he started.

Price scowled. "It doesn't matter if you're in the room or not, Denise. Gunner and I are going to keep you safe. Given the fact we're both trained professionals in security, and you're not, it makes sense for us to make the arrangements."

"Not when it's my life you're talking about. I told you earlier, I have to go back to work tomorrow."

Price shook his head. "That's not going to happen."

Deni stood up. The T-s.h.i.+rt stopped just shy of her knees, giving Gunner a clear view of her trim calves. The woman lived in jeans, and it occurred to him he'd never seen her in a skirt. They'd have to buy her some. She had beautiful legs.

Walking around the coffee table, Deni planted herself directly in front of Price. She was p.i.s.sed. "I've had it up to here with your proclamations. I don't know who the h.e.l.l you think you are, but no one tells me what to do. I may be young and I may not know a lot of stuff about s.e.x and s.h.i.+t like that, but that doesn't mean I can't take care of myself."

She was furious and waving her arms about, making her agitation obvious. The day's events were clearly catching up to her. Deni tried to be a fighter, but she wasn't particularly good at it. Gunner turned his head, lest she catch him grinning at her fl.u.s.tered attempts at a.s.serting her authority. Maybe he didn't have to worry about Price after all. Deni, in her cute, clumsy way, was handling the man just fine. "I'm perfectly capable of organizing my own affairs," she added.

To his credit, Price let her have her say, keeping his seat rather than standing and stealing the power position away from her. "Are you really? Dead cell phone? Driving a scratched-up car? Not bothering to check your email? These are considered good organizational skills?"

Deni put her hands on her hips. "I'm serious about my job. Those other things don't matter."

Price grinned. "So the only thing you need help with is the s.e.x-and-s.h.i.+t-like-that stuff?"

She shot him a dirty look. "You know what I mean. If you insist on calling me Denise and feeding me that line about me being a woman, not a girl, then you're going to have to toe the line and treat me like an adult. Otherwise, you might as well just call me Deni."

"Fine, Denise. Let's have a rational, adult conversation, shall we?"

His calm response took some of the wind out of Deni's sails.

"My research is very important to me and I've been making some real progress lately. I can't lose my momentum. It's taken me years to get to this point."

Gunner knew that, understood her concerns. Deni was married to her work. It was going to take time for her to adjust to what he hoped their life would become. "We know that, Deni. We'd never belittle what you do or fail to acknowledge how valuable it is. But, gorgeous, you've given your life to that research, to the lab, and now your life is at risk. Until the threat against you is removed, keeping you safe is our top priority. Then...after that danger is removed, we're going to have to figure out how to make this relations.h.i.+p work. I suspect it will mean sacrifices on all of our parts."

Deni sank down onto the coffee table. "What do mean?"

Price took a sip of his whiskey. "He means you're not going to sleep at the lab anymore. You'll be in bed-with us-every night."

"I don't think I can make that promise."

Deni wasn't being purposely stubborn, Gunner could see that. In fact, she appeared to be panicking. He rose, kneeling in front of her. "Why don't we tackle some of the easier things first?"

Before he could steer the conversation to safer waters, there was a knock at the door.

"That will be room service." Price rose to answer. "Deni ordered something for you, Gunner. Claimed it was your favorite."

Gunner grinned. "Bacon cheeseburger?"

She laughed. "Yep. Congestive heart failure on a sesame-seed bun with a side of artery-clogging fries."

Gunner took her hand and led her to a small dining table in the corner. He was accustomed to her making fun of his poor diet choices. Typically, he ate healthy meals at home, but whenever they went out for dinner, he splurged. "Extra pickles?"

"Is there any other way?"

Price signed the slip, tipped the waiter and carried the tray over. They were quiet as each of them claimed their meals, some silverware and Price refilled their drinks.

They discussed insignificant things as they ate-the weather in Boston, the strength of the Celtics bench in a recent game, which movie they thought should win the Oscar. It was a surprisingly easy meal when Gunner considered he was sitting with the two people-one a complete stranger-he'd just vowed to spend his life with.

After dinner, they returned to the comfortable seats in the living area. Price reclaimed his earlier chair while Gunner shared the loveseat with Deni again. Her hair had long since dried, natural waves curling around her pretty face. He found it difficult to look at her without imagining gripping those soft tresses as he pressed his c.o.c.k deep inside her. He s.h.i.+fted, trying to keep his erection at bay. It was getting more difficult as the evening gave way to night. The moment of truth loomed ever nearer.

Time to get serious. He placed his arm along the back of the couch, enjoying the way Deni moved closer. "So, I suppose we need to figure some things out. Should we knock them down? One at a time?"

"Fire away," Price said.

Gunner started with an easy one. "Living situation."

"Denise's house is trashed, and I'm not happy with the neighborhood. It's unsafe. Since she and I both live and work in Boston, I'd like to offer my home as an option."

Gunner could just imagine the opulence of Price's house. This was a man whose primary form of transportation was a limousine with a personal driver. "I could request a transfer to the Boston office, but I'm not sure how quickly something like that could be processed."

Price raised an eyebrow. "With the Trinity Masters' influence? I suspect we could make it happen faster than you think."

Gunner didn't reply, puzzling over Price's use of the word we. Price seemed to have an inside track to the internal workings of the Trinity Masters that he certainly didn't possess.

They both turned to Deni.

"I don't really have a place to go right now. My apartment is destroyed and you've ruled out the cot in my lab as a viable option."

Gunner's chest tightened at the unhappiness on her face. He'd never seen his little spitfire scientist looking so lost. She'd spent the majority of her life alone, without friends or lovers. She truly had no idea how to fit into a real relations.h.i.+p. "Deni. We'll all make a home together. There are three of us now. You don't have to worry about anything."

"Gunner's right. We have time to sort this out, find answers we're all comfortable with."