He nodded and started off, only to turn back abruptly. "We don't have to leave right now, you know," he said, his gaze searching. "You had a pretty rough time in there this evening. If you'd like to go in and get some of your own back, I usually have enough clout to carry the day. Being a celebrity has its uses."

Her mouth dropped open in amazement. "You'd do that for me?"

He shrugged. "Why not? I'd probably enjoy it."

"Well, I wouldn't," she said with a moue of distaste. "But I'm surprised you'd be willing to antagonize your aunt's guests just so I could enjoy a form of very petty revenge."

"When you agreed to my terms, you became both my property and my responsibility for the next month," he explained simply. "You'll find I know how to protect my own. I'll get your cloak, and I’ll call off that date of yours."

He was gone before she could reply, and she stared after him in amazement. The terrace seemed suddenly terribly empty and lifeless now that his vital presence was gone, and she felt oddly weak and defenseless. Which was utterly absurd, she assured herself firmly. It must be weariness and discouragement that were making her so foolish.

Brody was back in the space of a few minutes and he took charge again with the almost royal confidence she was becoming accustomed to. Draping the black velvet cloak around her, he buttoned it carefully while she stared at him bemusedly, feeling like a small child being readied for Sunday School.

A little of that fugitive amusement must have been reflected on her face, for when he'd finished he looked up with a mischievous grin. "Sorry to be so slow, sweetheart. I promise you I'm much more dexterous at getting a lady out of her clothes."

She just bet he was. Even when dampened down that virile magnetism was almost overpoweringly potent, and combined with the wealth and glamour surrounding his profession, he would be practically irresistible to women. For some reason this thought irritated her exceedingly, and she maintained a remote silence while he whisked her along the flagstone path around to the front of the house.

A silver Ferrari was waiting at the front entrance. A servant jumped out of the driver's seat and handed Brody the car keys, then with flattering obsequiousness helped Tamara into the passenger seat. The wine plush velvet upholstery of the sports car was as luxurious as the car's exterior, and she sank into the cushioned softness with a sigh of relief. This macabre evening was almost at an end and she could feel fatigue wrap her in a numb lassitude.

Brody shot a concerned glance at the mauve shadows beneath her violet eyes, which gave her face a haunting fragility. "Try to relax," Brody ordered as he put the car in gear and started down the circular driveway. "As I recall, it's about a thirty-minute drive." He patted the steering wheel affectionately. "And Ole Dobbin knows the way home."

She had to smile at the absurdity of comparing this sleek, futuristic monster with a farm horse, and she leaned her head back obediently on the headrest. The motion of the car was smooth and effortless, and the powerful motor purred with the hypnotic growl of a jungle cat. It was rather like its owner in that respect, Tamara thought. Sleek, compact, graceful, and very, very danger…

Aunt Elizabeth had definitely put too much starch in the pillow cases and they had a strange musky odor, most unlike their usual fresh, outdoor scent. Worst of all, the pillow was hard and lumpy. Tamara burrowed deeper into its depths, but it was really impossible to get comfortable.

"If you don't stop that infernal squirming, my brotherly attitude is going to undergo a radical change, sweetheart." Brody's amused voice reverberated beneath her ear.

She was so deeply enwebbed in sleep it didn't even surprise her to discover that her pillow was Brody's hard, muscular chest and that the car was now parked in front of the white picket fence that bordered Aunt Elizabeth's house.

She lifted her heavy lids and noted inconsequentially that his lean jaw was already faintly shadowed. She wondered idly if he were one of those men who had to shave twice a day. He probably was, she thought, faintly annoyed. The man was almost aggressively masculine.

"Your blackmail isn't going to do you any good, you know," she murmured drowsily. "I'm not going to sleep with you."

She felt his lips brush the top of her head as he chuckled. "You've already slept in my arms. How big a step is it to sleep in my bed?" Then, before she could reply, he put her back into her own seat and opened the door. "Sit still."

He was around the car and opening the door in seconds. To her surprise, instead of helping her out of the car, he scooped her up in his arms and strode down the flower-bordered walk to the front door. After the first startled moment of protest, she lay docilely in his arms. If Brody wanted to act the macho male, she wasn't going to protest. Besides, she was finding it extremely difficult to keep her head from nodding once more onto that warm, solid chest.

After he'd set her gently on her feet on the porch, he took her evening bag, extracted the key, and deftly unlocked the door. She was almost asleep on her feet as he took her once more in his arms and held her for a long, peaceful moment. His hand stroked her dark hair gently.

"Is it true what Celia called you?" he asked suddenly. "Are you illegitimate?"

She felt a thrill of shock jar her abruptly awake. She lifted her head warily. "Yes, it's quite true. I'm not only illegitimate, but my mother deserted me a few months after I was born. I don't have any idea who my father was. Does it matter?"

"Yes," he said simply. "I'm glad you don't have anyone else. It makes you more mine. I told you I was very possessive."

"I have Aunt Elizabeth," she protested.

"Ah, yes. I'm beginning to be very grateful indeed for dear Aunt Elizabeth," he said, slightly mocking. "Now close your eyes, sweetheart. I'm not accustomed to behaving like a big brother, and I'm feeling the strain. I want something for myself."

He didn't wait for her to comply before he swooped down and enfolded her in an embrace that was anything but brotherly. Holding her to the strong muscular column of his thighs, he covered her lips with his in a kiss that was almost bruising in its passionate intensity. From drowsy security, Tamara was flung headlong into a blaze of flaming need that turned her both boneless and mindless in his arms. His lips left hers to move hotly in a series of quick, fervid kisses that followed the line of her cheek to her ear, and then returned to ravish the softness of her parted lips as if they were starved for the taste of her. He coaxed her lips open and captured her tongue in his mouth, sucking at it for a long, breathless moment with a hunger that caused her to melt against him with a little moan of sheer animal desire.

Then, before she could recover from this blinding attack on her senses, he put her away from him. His breathing was hoarse and ragged as he opened the door behind her, pushed her inside with a playful swat on her derriere, and said thickly, "I can't take any more right now. You not only go to my head but to other portions of my anatomy that have a decided will of their own. I’ll see you tomorrow at eleven."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and ran lithely down the porch steps, leaving her to gaze after him.

By the next morning Tamara had firmly convinced herself that Brody's mesmerizing effect on her had been engendered purely by the bizarre combination of events and emotions of the evening. She'd obviously been shaken to the point that her imagination had magnified both his powerful charisma and her own response to it. In the clear light of day, when she had time to assess the violent changes that her calm, orderly existence had undergone, she was quite sure she would regain her cool, businesslike reserve and be able to deal with him in her usual efficient, emotionless manner.