She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. She mustn't get so excited. She had to convince Philip she was as sophisticated and blase as the other women he took to his bed.

She'd be fine in another moment. She had learned to disguise her feelings in the past two years. She would be able to fool Philip if the masquerade didn't last too long. She would have to accomplish her purpose quickly.

She opened her eyes. Her reflection in the lighted vanity mirror was not reassuring. Her dark eyes were enormous in her white face. What if Philip didn't think she was even pretty? Other people seemed to, but beauty was a matter of taste. She felt panic rise in her. What if—No, she wouldn't let herself have these doubts. Move. Philip was waiting. The game was about to start. She wished she hadn't thought of that. She had always been too impatient to be any good at games. Philip was the one who excelled at them.

She unpinned her wig, threw it on the vanity, and took off the nylon wig cap. Her hair tumbled about her shoulders in a silver cloud. That was better. She must concentrate on being alluring and block out all those doubts. She turned and strode hurriedly toward the tiny adjoining bathroom.

Thirty minutes later she stood before the mirror again, gazing at herself critically. The makeup was just right, enough to accentuate her features and give her an air of sophistication, but not enough to look cheap. The square neckline of the black velvet gown she was wearing was so low that it barely covered the tips of the breasts swelling from its soft folds. Too sexy? It was a little obvious, but there was no way it could be too sexy for what she had in mind. She turned away from the mirror before any more doubts could weaken her resolve and walked quickly from the dressing room.

In a short time she was standing before the door of Philip's suite at the Fairmont. The door swung open at her first knock. He was dressed in white slacks and a collarless shirt in a forest green shade that turned his eyes to deep turquoise. He was just the same: the high cheekbones, the sensual mouth, the tanned hardness of his lean, tough physique. The air of leashed power that surrounded him was the same as well. She felt a curl of excitement in the pit of her stomach and had to stifle the impulse to walk into his arms and nestle there. Home. She was home again.

"That orange monstrosity is a wig, thank God. Abernathy was wondering if you'd dyed your hair," Philip said tersely. "At least you look civilized." His glance touched on her creamy breasts. "If not precisely modest."

"Am I allowed to come in, or would you like me to stand out here so that you can continue tearing my appearance to shreds?" Her voice was light and mocking. She only hoped her expression wasequally composed. "Hello. Philip. It's good to see you again."

"Come in." He turned away. He was angry. Six years ago that fact would have devastated her and it disturbed her even now. "And while you're at it you can dispense with the polite chitchat. If you were so happy to see me, it wouldn't have taken you six years to renew our acquaintance."

"There were reasons." She followed him into the room and closed the door. She laid her black evening bag on the low chest to the left of the door and smiled sweetly at him. "Isn't it enough that I'm here now? I may have been a little slow, but I did contact you eventually."

"No, it's not enough." He crossed the room and dropped into the cane chair by the window. "And what the devil did you mean by sending me the medallion? I don't take back that particular emblem. You know that. It's not just a pretty piece of jewelry."

She nodded serenely. "Yes, I know. That's the reason I returned it. We both know it's a symbol of possession. I found I didn't like the idea of being owned." She shook her head reprovingly. "Really, Philip, the system you have in Sedikhan is feudal. I wonder that I didn't object before to wearing it like a meek little vassal."

"The vassalage system evolved because it was beneficial to both parties. It provided service to one and protection to the other." His lips tightened grimly. "I don't recall that you objected to being under my protection when it suited you."

"But that was because I was a child." She smiled again. "I understand the barter system much better now."

His eyes narrowed. "Was that supposed to be loaded with implications? Don't try to be subtle, Pandora. You never were able to pull it off." There was a quick leap of anger in his eyes. "You never used to want to play word games."

"I never was capable of it. There's a difference."

He studied her for a long moment. "You've changed," he said slowly.

"I've grown up. We all do eventually."

"Let's find out just how much you've changed." He held out his hand. "Come here and let me look at you."

She felt her heart give a little jerk. She only hoped her reaction hadn't shown in her face. She moved forward, swaying with deliberate grace. She felt a little shock as she slipped her hand into his. "I hope you think I've improved," she said lightly. "That little scarecrow had a long way to go."

"Oh, I don't know," he drawled. "I had a certain fondness for that scarecrow." He pulled downward with sudden force, and she found herself on her knees before his chair, looking up at him with startled eyes. His gaze was suddenly on the lush cleavage revealed by the low neck of her gown. "Though I can see a couple of advantages to the new you."

She wouldn't blush. "I'm glad. I suppose old habits are hard to break." She met his eyes. "I still want to please you."

His thumb began tracing a lazy pattern on the sensitive flesh of her inner wrist. "That's not an old habit, that's a new development. I don't recall your ever caring whether I was pleased or not."

Her lashes lowered. "I cared." Oh Lord, how she'd cared.

There was a sudden note of anger in his voice. "Look at me, dammit. You remind me of a blasted Khadim."

She kept her eyes fixed on the middle button of his shirt. "But you like Khadims." Her tone was gently teasing. "I remember that very well. There was always one on the horizon or one disappearing into the sunset. From what I read in the newspapers, you still use their services or that of their Western counterparts. Some of them are very lovely. Am I as pretty as they?"

His thumb abruptly ceased its movement on her wrist. "Are you inviting comparisons?"

She didn't answer. Her throat was so tight she didn't think she could speak.

"I take it silence is assent?" His voice was no longer curt, but a silky drawl. "That puts a different light on our little meeting. Interesting. But then you were always that, Pandora." He released her wrist and leaned back in his chair. "Why don't you get up and go sit on that couch across the room? I think putting a distance between us would be a good idea at the moment. A proposition like that has a distinct physical effect on a man that tends to cloud his judgment. I believe we need to resolve a few points before we take up the issue you've raised."

"If you like." She stood and crossed the room. "Though I'd have thought you would be accustomed to this sort of thing." She sat down on the couch and gave him a brilliant smile. "It's not as if I'm asking for any kind of commitment from you. We're both adults and know what we want."

"Do we?" He smiled cynically. "I know what I want. I've known since you walked into the room, but I'm not sure I know what you want." He paused. "Are you going to tell me why you ran away six years ago?"