"I'm at Cinderella Catering," I told him, commanding my heart rate to slow. "Good news. They've agreed to cater the party."

"What are you doing there? You were supposed to meet me for lunch. Have you forgotten?"

"No." Frowning, I glanced up at Kera, who was watching me with unconcealed interest. "We met yesterday instead. I thought-"

"So don't think. We met yesterday in addition to our lunch today. I expect you to be at my office in ten minutes."

"But I-"

"Ten minutes, Naomi."

"Will you just listen to-" I needn't have bothered trying to explain myself. The other line had already clicked, signaling its abrupt disconnection.

My teeth ground together in annoyance, anticipation and disgust at my reaction to simply hearing his voice. I threw the phone back in my briefcase, wishing it were Royce's head so I could toss it to the ground and stomp on it. Maybe even give it a hard kick between the eyes (while wearing steel-toed boots) for good measure.

I liked to think it took great lengths to shatter my composure. (Hey, there's nothing wrong with lying to oneself.) Yet it seemed as if Royce had only to open his mouth and my patience immediately flew out the window. Damn Triple C.

I directed a disgruntled look to my cousin. "I've got to run. Duty calls."

Her features were lit with interest. "Bachelor of the Year?"

"None other," I said with a grimace.

"So you met with him yesterday, hmm?" She crossed her arms over her chest and stared over at me, eyes narrowed. Her lips twitched, ruining her efforts to appear angry.

"Yes. I met with him." I offered no more.

"I don't recall hearing anything about this."

Giving Kera a quick hug, I said, "Should we have your ears tested, then?"

"You better spill the details tonight. Try to clam up and I'll sic Mel on you."

I gave a mock shudder. "What a cruel, cruel woman you're becoming."

"Hey," she said, eyes twinkling with the same wicked glint Mel's sometimes had, "you didn't happen to bring your green handcuffs, did you? Mel will be disappointed if you don't use them soon."

"No, I didn't bring them." Thank God. "I didn't know I'd be seeing Royce today."

"Keep them in your briefcase. That way, you'll always be prepared."

My brows arched as I pretended confusion. "Think I'll need to perform a citizen's arrest for his bad attitude?"

She snorted. "Hello, you can cuff him to his desk and have your naughty way with him."

I had to completely blank my mind before delicious images invaded. Images of Royce lying on his desk and me crawling over him, running my tongue over every inch and hollow. Damn it!

Gathering my composure, I stepped outside, throwing over my shoulder, "I'll see you tonight." As the door closed, I glanced at my wristwatch. I only had nine minutes and five seconds to get to Royce's building.

Realizing it would be faster to cut through the city streets on foot rather than let a cab maneuver through traffic, I raced down the pavement. My slightly heeled brown shoes thumped against the ground. The sound echoed loudly in my ears. Why was I rushing around like an idiot?

Jump through the fiery hoop, little kitty, Royce mocked inside my mind.

Can I do it naked? my hormonal doormat responded, while the Tigress in me growled, Why don't I hill you both, instead?

Along the way, I rammed into a portly gentleman holding a box of doughnuts. Uttering a hasty apology, I helped him rescue the now dirty pastries, then picked up my bag and hurried on.

I hate, hate, hate being late. Always have. I think the need to be on time had been ingrained in me since birth. My mom, who was always late, said I'd arrived two weeks ahead of schedule, that I'd walked and talked early and that I'd begun my terrible twos-whatever that meant-when I was only one.

Knowing each step brought me closer to Royce made my stomach churn with anxiety. It wasn't that I feared he would fire me. Quite the opposite, at this point. All too well I recalled his assurance that he planned to kiss me again.

With twenty-three seconds to spare, I rushed into the chrome-and-glass building and pushed my way through another green-clad crowd of women. I wondered briefly if I was the only one wearing camouflage panties and a green satin bra. Probably not. I wouldn't doubt that some of these women had a tattoo of the Jolly Green Giant.

This time, the guard let me pass without a word. I wanted to stick my tongue out at him and shout, "Ha! Ha!" but refrained. I was a Tigress, not a child. Sometimes. I headed straight for the express elevator.

A resonant chime signaled my arrival to the nineteenth floor. I stepped past the sliding doors, trying to prepare myself for the battle I knew was to come. For strength, I took a deep, fortifying breath. I'm a Tigress, I'm a Tigress, I'm a Tigress.

At the front desk, I faced down Royce's assistant. Ms. Carroll, aka Bride of Satan. Elvira's dark brown eyes clawed me like talons, all the more menacing in light of that vampiric complexion.

"I need to see Mr. Powell," I told her, using my most competent tone.

Matte gold lips twisted in feigned affability. "Do you have an actual appointment this time?"

"Yes."

"Well, what do you know?" She smoothed a hand over her perfect hair. "Once again your name isn't on his agenda. Would you care to explain this phenomenon?"

Not again! Why hadn't Royce told her I was expected?

"If you'll let Royce know I'm here," I said, each syllable crisper than the last, "I'm sure he'll be happy to explain this 'phenomenon.'"

"Royce, hmm?" She stood, fingers splayed wide across her desk. "When did you two become so close? Or are you his flavor of the week and I just didn't know it?"

Flavor of the week? I wanted to ask Elvira just how many women she'd seen come and go in Royce's life. The more women, the more he would remind me of my ex. And my dad. And the less tempted I would be by him. I didn't, though. Instead I said, "Just tell him I'm here. Please."

"Go to hell."

My inner Tigress crouched into attack position and I found myself saying, "I have a question for you." I placed my hands on the desk and inched forward. Eye to eye. "Are you jealous because you're three hundred years too old for him or are you simply a spiteful woman?"

"How dare you?" She gasped, my words having pushed her over the edge of tolerance. "I'll have you know I've worked here for six years. You'll be gone soon. Your kind always is. But I'll always be around."

"My kind? Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Cheap. Easy. And completely forgettable."

Now my Tigress spread her claws and growled low in her throat. I ran my tongue over my teeth and leaned even closer to Elvira. "You actually think he likes your type better? Cold. Evil. And leader of the undead."

"Why you little bitch." Her teeth bared, she flew around the desk, meaning to launch herself on top of me.

I fisted my hands, waiting, readying to strike.

"That's enough, Ms. Carroll," a male voice suddenly boomed.

Elvira stilled abruptly. She blinked, collecting her wits-if she had any, that is. Her pale complexion turned ashy as she backtracked to her desk. I whipped around.

A handsome man in his early thirties faced me. The rich baritone of his voice held an edge of unmistakable steel. With jeans that hugged his hips and a too-tight white T-shirt, he looked rugged and completely out of place in the formal office setting.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Phillips," Elvira said.

Phillips… the name was familiar to me. Wait, wasn't he the one Royce had spoken to on the phone the first day I'd come in? They'd discussed some sort of merger.

Mr. Phillips gave her a look that clearly said, "I'll deal with you later," then turned his attention to me. I applauded anyone who could intimidate the indomitable assistant.