She was grateful neither man noticed the paling of her cheeks and her sudden discomposure. Rex's teasing comment was met by a startled rejoinder from Oliver.

"You're taking her with you on the tour!" he exploded. "You can't do that. Rex. The arrangements are all made."

Rex was now stroking the back of Tamara's neck as if she were a favorite kitten. "Then make new ones," he said with a lazy grin. "She's going with us, Scotty." Despite the quiet good humor of his expression, there was a thread of pure steel in his voice.

Oliver's face turned ruddy with anger. "Good Lord, Rex, why do you want to take her with you? She'll just get in the way." He gave Tamara a brief, assessing appraisal, causing the color once again to rise to her cheeks. That contemptuous glare might just as well have stripped her naked. "I admit she's a beauty, but you've never felt the need of a live-in woman before. Lord knows there are enough of them willing to tumble into your bed on the road."

"That's enough, Scotty," Rex said, frowning. "I said she was going."

"Okay! But I’ll lay odds you're going to regret it," Scotty growled. "Ill try to alter the arrangements." His lips twisted cynically. "It shouldn't be too difficult since you’ll be sharing a bed."

This was too much! Tamara opened her mouth to tell this rude bastard what he could do with his arrangements, when Rex stopped her by placing a warning hand on hers.

"Easy, babe," he said quickly, not looking at her. His dark gaze was fixed with flint like hardness on Oliver's belligerent face. "I'm going to tell you this once, Scotty, so I'd advise you to listen," he said with dangerous softness. "I don't want to hear you speak of Tamara in that tone ever again. You don't have to like her, but you'll treat her with courtesy and respect or I'll take a great delight in punching your face in!" He suddenly relaxed and grinned with that irresistible, little-boy charm. "We've been friends for a long time, Scotty," he continued coaxingly. "Don't blow it!" He was idly playing with Tamara's fingers. "And you're wrong about the sleeping arrangements. I'd like to have her as close to me as possible, but Tamara will have her own bedroom."

Anger, astonishment, and cautious speculation superseded each other on Oliver's face. "Separate bedrooms?" he echoed. "She's not your woman then?"

There was a curious expression in the midnight darkness of his eyes as Rex's gaze shifted to Tamara's face. It was a strange mixture of mischief, desire, regret, and something else that caused her breath to catch in her throat and her gaze to cling to his as if enthralled. "No, she's not my woman," he said gravely. He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss in the palm. "She's my lady."

There was a touching gallantry in the way he uttered "my lady" in that honey dark voice. Tamara was instantly reminded of their recent teasing raillery about knights and chivalry, and she felt oddly moved. She was unable to withdraw either her hand or gaze from his, so lost was she in the strangely timeless moment. She was abruptly brought back to earth when Oliver's voice cut through the misty mood like a finely honed razor.

"Charming," he said sardonically. "But not very explanatory."

Tamara quickly withdrew her hand from Rex's and glanced at Oliver. She was instantly suspicious of the change in his demeanor. Before there had been impatience, anger, and careless contempt in his attitude toward her, but this had undergone a transformation-and not for the better. She sensed not only a chilly wariness, but also an almost menacing calculation in him now. She had an uneasy feeling Oliver was going to prove to be a very dangerous antagonist.

Rex chuckled ruefully and shook his head. "You don't have to understand it, you just have to accept it, Scotty. I'm having a hell of a problem understanding it myself." His expression sobered. "Now tell me about that deal you made with HBO to film the show tonight."

For the remainder of the drive, Tamara was completely excluded from the conversation as the two men discussed residual contract clauses and percentages. Despite her dislike for the man, she grudgingly had to admit that Oliver sounded like a brilliant businessman and exceptionally good at his job as Rex's manager. In addition there seemed to exist a respect between the two that obviously was built on a long and mutually satisfactory relationship. As the discussion continued, Oliver appeared to forget his former displeasure with his client and relaxed. He even chuckled a time or two at Rex's wry remarks, and Tamara was amazed to see a glint of warm affection in those icy gray eyes.

She was so absorbed by the interaction between the two men that she scarcely noticed when the limousine turned into the underground parking garage of a towering modern apartment building. At the end of a ramp black wrought iron gates were electronically opened by a uniformed security guard, and the long, black limousine swept like a graceful bird into the parking garage, coming to a smooth halt a short distance from a row of elevators.

She had her first glimpse of the chauffeur when he jumped lightly from the front seat and opened the passenger door.

"How have you been, George?" Rex asked with easy camaraderie, as he got out and helped Tamara from the car. "This is Miss Ledford. She'll be staying with us awhile. This is George Edgers, Tamara."

"I'm very happy to meet you, Mr. Edgers," Tamara said politely, as she took in the chauffeur's massive proportions, curly, gray-flecked red hair, and wide, breezy grin.

"My pleasure, Miss Ledford," he said with an admiring look. "I'll bring the luggage right up, Mr. Brody." He turned toward the trunk of the car.

"No hurry, George," Rex said absently, as he took Tamara's arm and led her past two more security guards seated at a desk before the elevators. Nothing was said, but Tamara felt the guards' keen appraisal had cataloged everything about her including her shoe size.

"The security in this building appears to be pretty tight," she commented.

"Scotty found the apartment for me. Security was first on his list of priorities," Rex said, making a face. "You'll get used to it."

Oliver joined them as they entered the elevator, and punched the button for the penthouse. He checked his watch and said, "It's almost four. I've told George to have the car ready at six. Would it be too much to expect you to be on time?"

Rex grimaced, not at all offended. "Save the sarcasm, Scotty. Have I ever missed a show?"

Oliver's lips twisted. "No. but then you've never skipped three days of rehearsals either. How the hell do I know what you're going to do these days." He glanced meaningfully at Tamara.

"Relax," Rex said, with a careless shrug. "Most of the music I'm doing tonight is my own stuff. Who should know it better?"

The elevator door whisked open and Rex escorted Tamara across an elegantly decorated foyer to the door opposite the elevator. "Welcome home, sweetheart," he murmured in her ear, as he unlocked the door and threw it open.

It couldn't have been less like her own home, Tamara thought wryly, as she preceded the men. The apartment was sleekly luxurious, as was to be expected from the little she'd seen of the building. The huge, sunken living room was plushly carpeted in a rich cinnamon shade that contrasted beautifully with the creamy beige contemporary furnishings. The focal point of the room was a wide, stone fireplace, fronted by a modular velvet-covered couch with oatmeal and rust throw pillows. The far end of the room was dominated by a lovely, mahogany, baby grand piano. Beyond it was a wall of sliding glass doors on which hung cream curtains with bold cinnamon stripes. There were a number of doors leading off this central area.

Not giving her a chance for a further appraisal of her surroundings, Rex half led, half pushed Tamara toward one of the doors to the left of the fireplace.