"No, Hairy!" she hissed. "Damn!" She wasn't fast enough. Hairy hopped right on top of Thomas. The dog nosed his arm until it flopped over the edge of the couch, and began circling to find the sweet spot on his chest. Emma held her breath, expecting to see the poor thing hurled through the air.

Then she smiled-this ritual was nothing new to Thomas, apparently. He acknowledged the dog's presence with a clumsy pat to the head and a garbled greeting of "Hey, pal." Still asleep, he adjusted his body and turned his face toward Emma.

She stood completely still, unable to move even if she'd wanted to. She simply watched the dog ride the rise and fall of Thomas's chest as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

She was crying? What a lame-o thing to do, as Leelee would say. She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand, amazed and horrified by the tight sensation in her chest, the trembling in her limbs.

She didn't want to feel anything for him! He'd misled her, even if his motive was a nice one. A real nice one. Oh, hell-the man had paid eight thousand dollars just to have her near him!

Emma watched him sleep, trying to hate him and failing, seeing only how sweet he looked, how sexy-how lovable. Thomas Tobin, the surly, sneaky, undercover hit man, was so lovable.

Hairy had just nibbled his master's jawline, little flea-bites that made Thomas chuckle in his sleep and wave his hand to shoo away the dog. Hairy persevered, nipping a cheek and then an upper lip until Thomas began to groan and mumble.

Emma leaned closer and tried not to laugh. It seemed that a real friendship had blossomed between this man and this dog, and she was feeling quite proud of her role in the transformation when Thomas whispered something, and she tensed. Had she heard correctly? Had he just said her name?

Emma was studying Thomas's moving lips when a devilish smile spread over his face and he moaned, "Oh, yeah, Emma. Put your mouth on me."

Her hand flew up to stifle a gasp. Hairy skittered down Thomas's body as if to get out of the way, and Emma watched the dog jump down, race across the room, and curl up in a ball in the recliner.

Thomas mumbled something else and Emma turned back-to find that his eyes were halfway open and he was gazing at her behind heavy lids. Before she could escape, he grabbed her, crushed her against the front of his body, gripped the back of her head, and forced her mouth down onto his.

The top of Emma's skull nearly blew off. His lips were hot and impatient, and he was mumbling to her even as his tongue entered her mouth, flicked inside her. His other hand clamped down on her butt, grinding her crotch against his, and there was no escaping the man's outstanding attributes.

"Oh, yeah," he groaned against her lips. He dragged his hands to the back of her thighs and pulled until she was spread wide across him. "Ride me, Emma."

A strangled cry flew from her throat as she tried to end the crush of his embrace, the attack of his mouth, the spreading of her legs. She got a hand loose enough to smack his cheek.

Thomas went completely still beneath her. He released his death hold on her body, relaxed the lip-lock. And Emma pushed herself up from his chest, panting.

"Jesus!" Thomas sprang to life, throwing her off balance and sending her backward to the end of the couch, where she landed with a thud on his insteps. "Ow!" he screamed.

When he yanked his feet out from under her, Emma's rump hit the sofa arm.

"What the hell-" Thomas was fumbling behind his head for the lamp and Emma shielded her eyes from the abrupt glare.

She listened to him mumble swear words for a moment or two, then peeked out from between her fingers. Thomas's short curls were crushed to the side of his head. He was unshaven. His eyes were wild and rimmed with red.

And he was tugging on the drawstring of his shorts, now tented with the Big Daddy of all erections. She let her hands fall from her face so that she could ogle.

Then their eyes met. Thomas blinked at her several times and opened his mouth to speak. "I'm not sure what-"

Emma cut him off. "You!" she screamed, pointing like she was identifying a pickpocket on the street. "You lied to me again!"

"I did. A huge mistake."

She glared at him, catching her breath. "You will never lie to me again, Thomas."

"That's absolutely true."

"And what about… well… the other thing you did to me last night?" She crossed her arms under her breasts with a loud harrumph.

He blinked some more.

"Would you mind telling me how I had an actual… " Emma stopped and shot a glance toward Hairy-who was watching them intently. She continued in a whisper. "Look, Thomas. I had an orgasm on a picnic bench last night, surrounded by crab parts, without you even touching me. Would you please explain how that happened?"

Thomas waited a beat, not sure if she was through with her question, or even if it was a question, or if it might possibly be a redundant one. She seemed to want an answer, but he had no idea what to say-he was still half-asleep. Besides, all the blood that used to be in his brain was now in his shorts.

"I'm…"-he fumbled for the correct words-"… sorry about that, too?"

She snorted and tossed her loose hair from her shoulder. "I'm so angry with you!" Emma was desperately trying to keep her emotions in control, but there were too many to get a handle on-hurt, surprise, lust, and fear were right up there at the top of the list. "You're making me crazy," she said with a shaky voice.

"Emma-"

"How? How the hell did you get to me without laying a finger on me?"

Thomas smiled and the dimples popped to life even as his right eye narrowed. She hated when all those things happened at once-it made him so adorable she couldn't concentrate.

"Indirect communication, Miss Marple."

"Oh." After a sigh, she went right back to being indignant. "And what was this all about?" She pointed to his mostly naked body. "Were you dreaming about me just now?"

"Wouldn't be the first time." Thomas straightened up and rubbed his hands through his hair and over his face, nearly slapping himself awake. He stared at her.

She stared back.

Neither moved.

"Um, you're the expert, Emma, but I think we're having one of those 'four F' moments here, wouldn't you agree?"

She laughed at that. Thomas was actually quite funny-for a compulsive liar. With a sigh, she sat farther back on her heels and took a leisurely look at the man stretched out before her. His eyes were sleepy and dangerous. His body was long and brawny and nothing but glowing muscle covered in downy blond curls. The shorts were now tugged lower on his rippled abdomen, pulled by an erection so obvious that it should have been spotting a festive pink bow and a gift tag that read "For Emma."

She cleared her throat. "And which one of the F's are you leaning toward right now, do you suppose?"

"Mmmm." He draped a chiseled arm over the back of the couch and crooked a knee provocatively, shifting his weight. Emma checked out the Big One again and felt her mouth go dry.

"Well, you certainly don't frighten me." His voice was low and thoughtful. "And I don't particularly feel like fighting anymore. So I guess that leaves flight or-"

"Fucking me."

Silence.

Emma could not believe she'd said that! She clenched her eyelids shut in a reflex of utter mortification, tight enough, she prayed, to put an end to her very existence.

"Yep-that would be my first choice," he said in a hoarse whisper.

Did she dare look at him? With a wince, Emma opened her eyes. The muscles along Thomas's jaw were clenched tight and the tendons strained in his neck. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple sliding along the length of his throat. His right eye was now just a slit.