"You may not have seen me, but I assure you I've kept an eagle eye on you," Brody said mockingly. "You've been very visible indeed, love. At first I was merely amused by your antics. I must admit you play Circe with more panache than I've ever seen it done, and as a performer myself, I have a certain admiration for style." His mouth tightened. "I was about to put a stop to your little charade when you decided to put the crowning touch on your achievement by bewitching little Cousin Celia's property. That was a bad move, darling."

"I thought I did it very well," Tamara said, a thread of bitterness running through her voice. "Though in Todd's case it was really no challenge. Circe wouldn't have wasted her time on Todd. He's already a swine."

Brody gave a soundless whistle. "I believe I detect a note of passion in that lovely voice," he said thoughtfully. "I think perhaps I'll have a little talk with Todd Jamison."

"Passion! I hate the man," she cried, and suddenly those maddening tears began to fall again.

"I don't care what you feel for him," Brody said with soft menace. "It's enough that you feel something. I find I'm becoming quite possessive of you, Tamara Ledford."

Tamara shook her head dazedly. "You're not making any sense. I don't know what you're talking about, and at the moment I don't care," she said huskily. "Will you please just leave me alone?"

Brody swore under his breath at the sudden break in her voice. He reached out swiftly and grasped her by the shoulders and turned her to face him, tilting her head back with one hand so he could look into her face.

"Oh hell's bells, you're crying!" he said incredulously. His dark eyes probed her face mercilessly, noting every nuance of pain and unhappiness in the shaking of her lips, the swift veiling of her eyes as she closed her lids. "Damn it all, you let them hurt you in there. I thought you were one tough lady, but you're just a kid," he said wonderingly.

"No, you're wrong," she said, trying to turn her face away from that scalpel-keen appraisal. "I’ll be all right in a moment. It was just the shock."

"Shut up, sweetheart," Brody said, and swept her into his arms, holding her as warmly and securely as if she were a baby. His hands moved gently up and down her back in a magically soothing caress. "Just be quiet and let me hold you. I promise you nothing will ever hurt you again while I'm around."

She believed him. It seemed impossible this was the same man whose nearness had turned her into liquid fire only a few hours before. It was as if he'd switched off that virile magnetism and electric vitality and was offering her only the warmth and tenderness she so desperately needed at the moment. She buried her head in his shoulder and let the tears flow freely while he rocked her in his arms, murmuring inaudible words of comfort and reassurance. His hands caressed and massaged her back and he dropped an occasional butterfly kiss on her temple or the curve of her neck. It was all so deliciously healing and secure Tamara felt she could stay there forever, being stroked and cosseted by this complex man who'd turned her life upside down in only a few hours. She didn't know when her arms went around his waist to hold him closer or when the tears stopped and were replaced by a dreamy contentment.

"You know that this changes things, of course," Brody whispered huskily, as he reached up to tangle a hand in her silky black hair. He tilted her head back to look into her face, catching his breath at the expression of glowing contentment and languid radiance illuminating it. "Don't you know weeping is supposed to make a lady's face swollen and ugly?" He touched her wet, dark lashes with a gentle finger. "It's not supposed to make your eyes look like violets after rain. Didn't anyone ever tell you that?"

"I guess not," Tamara whispered, looking up at his face so close to her own. She hadn't noticed before how long and thick Brody's black lashes were, she thought languidly, or how truly beautiful the cut of that sensual mouth.

"Well, they should have," he said huskily. "It's totally unfair you should look like this right now. It's the unexpected that lays a man low every time." He shook his head as if to clear it and then moved backward, unwinding her arms from around his waist and putting her firmly from him. "We've got to talk, and I find I'm just as susceptible as your other little conquests tonight. So keep your distance. Okay?"

Tamara felt a shaky chilliness and desolation now that she was no longer in the warm circle of his arms, and it served to rip away the languid contentment he'd so easily woven around her. She was jarred abruptly back to her senses. What on earth had she been thinking of?

"Yes, of course," she said confusedly, backing hurriedly away from him. "I'm afraid I lost control for a moment. I apologize for weeping all over you. It must have been very embarrassing."

"Hush, sweetheart," Brody said, his dark eyes twinkling. "I enjoyed every moment of it, and you'd still be in my arms if I thought I could think straight with you cuddling up to me like a little girl with her favorite teddy bear. Unfortunately I'm finding my paternal attitude is fading fast, and I don't think you'd want the type of comfort I'm prepared to give at the moment." He leaned back against the balustrade and gazed at her ruefully. "I thought I had it all worked out, but I'm afraid you've blasted all my plans to shrapnel."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Tamara shook her head. "I didn't do anything."

"Oh yes you did, lovely lady," he said mockingly. "You wept. I find I can't stand to see you cry, it tears me apart." His lips twisted wryly. "I remember once when I was a boy, I saw a 'Star Trek' episode on TV about an incredibly lovely alien who could completely bewitch any man by merely letting fall a tear or two. I thought it was the most arrant piece of nonsense imaginable. Now I'm not at all sure."

"Oh no, not again!" Tamara cried indignantly. This was just too much! Placing her hands on her hips, she glared belligerently at him. "Today you've called me everything from Cleopatra to Circe and now you're comparing me to some futuristic Femme Fatale" She punched a finger at his broad chest and said hotly, "Well, I've had enough! For your information, Mr. Brody, I'm an intelligent, modern businesswoman and I haven't the faintest desire to tempt you strong macho men to do anything but jump into the Atlantic Ocean!"

She saw to her extreme exasperation that there was an indulgent grin on Brody's face and a decided twinkle in the midnight dark eyes. "You can scarcely blame us for romanticizing you," he said, one eyebrow arching whimsically. "We poor males have a rough time finding a woman who can transport us back to the days when knighthood was in flower. But I've changed my mind about your being Circe. You're more like Helen of Troy or Guenevere."

"That's hardly much better," Tamara said with a grimace. "They were both unfaithful wives, as I recall."

"But with a subtle difference. They were as much victims of their own allure as the men they enchanted," Brody said lightly. "That's why wars were fought over them. Who can resist a tragic maiden in distress? Even I feel an urge to go out and fight a dragon or two when you look up at me with those big pansy eyes."

"I can fight my own dragons, thank you," she said crossly. "The only thing I need is for you to drop this ridiculous persecution of Aunt Elizabeth and go back to cavorting at your rock concerts."

"Cavorting!" he exclaimed. "Is that what you think of my performance?" He drew himself up majestically. "I do not cavort."

Her lips twitched in reluctant amusement. It seemed she'd scored a hit on a very sensitive nerve. "I meant no offense, Mr. Brody. I've never seen you perform," she said, gazing demurely at him from beneath her lashes. "I thought all rock stars cavorted."