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“Even you?” Her words were
soft.

“I'm a butt and leg man.”

Dayne craned her neck,
checked herself out. She wanted to see her backside as Kason viewed her. Vanity
shot heat up her spine, scorched her cheeks. Could she feel any more foolish?
Her sweatpants bagged, making her butt look enormous.

She settled back to finish
her story. “Mick didn't have the guts to break up with me face-to-face. He
announced it on air. He froze our joint bank account and changed the locks on
the condo. I left Baltimore beaten down. Richmond was a great place to heal my
heart.”

Kason narrowed his gaze on
her. “Are you healed, ready to move on?”

“Soon, very soon.”

“What's the holdup?”

“Final closure,” she told
him. “I need to burn my wedding file to remove Mick from my life forever.”

Kason patted his pocket. “I've
got Naughty Monkey matches.”

Her heart squeezed. “You'd
help me?”

“Very selfish motive,” he
admitted. “We torch the file, then I take you to bed.”

His thought drew a warm
sexual heat from her.

Her nipples tightened.

Her v-zone tingled.

Backed by a pitch-dark sky,
a metal garbage can soon blazed, and the file burned. A rather short burn in
comparison to the long months that had gone into planning her life with Mick
Jakes.

Kason pulled her back
against him, his hands flat on her belly. His fingers tucked beneath the
waistband on her sweats, the calloused tips rough against her softer contours.

The heat from the fire
warmed her front, his body her back. His strength shored up her vulnerability,
and a private, tangible connection grew between them. For the first time in her
life, she felt safe and protected.

He held her until the fire
died, until her past was a pile of ashes. Afterward, he turned her to him,
pulled her close. The feel of his body calmed her on a deep level.

He stroked the tension from
her brow, soothed and removed all conflict. Threading his fingers through her
hair, he sifted the strands with an unhurried touch. He massaged the back of
her neck, the curve of her shoulders, then ran his big hands up and down her
arms, as if restoring circulation. The warmth was welcome.

“We lost a great
opportunity to roast marshmallows.” Her voice was muffled against his chest.

“I'm not hungry for
marshmallows.”

She let him take her hand
and lead her back to her camper. Cimarron and Ruckus slept like the dead.
Sidestepping the dogs, they moved quietly into her bedroom.

She lit two candles, then
stood before him in the doorway, mere inches away. The scent of heather
softened the air, a contrast to the imposing physical presence that was Kason
Rhodes. Anticipation touched them both, a sensual stirring. His intense gaze
aroused her completely. She went liquid, ached for the man.

“Are you ready for me?” he
asked.

The time was now. “Make it
good, Rhodes.”

“You have no idea...” The
words were a low growl from his throat.

Sex thickened the air.

He wanted her.

She needed him.

Within the stillness of the
night, they came together, taking their time. Foreplay turned as arousing as a
climax.

Teasingly slow, he ran his
thumb along her jaw, drawing her closer, so near that the scent of his skin
taunted her with musk and masculinity. His touch was timeless as he cupped her
head and captured her mouth.

Her arms circled his waist,
and her hands smoothed down his spine. She melted into him, turning soft and
yielding, wanting the oneness only lovers experience.

His eyes shut with their
contact. They kissed for a very long time. His deeper kisses drugged, stole her
breath and soul. Her mouth felt bruised, swollen, his.

Still, she wanted more.
More of his mouth. More of his hands. More of his body. She grew increasingly
restless. Heat pooled deep and low and urgency quickened her pulse. She wanted
to sift into his skin.

Kason sensed her need and
played to it. He wanted her totally into him before he laid her bare. The deep
score of her nails along his sides signaled her readiness. He lifted her
T-shirt, then thumbed down her sweats. Her flip-flops evaporated to bare feet.

Braless, she stood before
him in abbreviated tanga bikini briefs, so sheer, she could have been naked.
She soon was.

He stared, eyes hot and
narrowed, as candlelight tipped her nipples and shadowed her thighs. His
breathing came quick and his nostrils flared wide. The man was turned on by the
very sight of her.

She wanted to appreciate
him as well. Off came his shirt, and she made fast work of his jeans. His
boxers caught on the head of his penis. He kicked off his boots, toed off his
socks, and stood unself-consciously nude in the flickering light.

His body should have been
illegal. He was all chiseled cheekbones and square-cut jaw. His sculpted
shoulders and killer abs were supported by strong hips and thick thighs. His
erection was long and hard. He shamed her porno vibrator.

He was that impressive.

“Protection.” He turned his
jean pockets inside out. A wallet, quarter and dime, and four latex condoms
fell onto his hand.

He ripped one packet open,
sheathed himself.

Kason was on her in a
heartbeat. He kissed from the curve of her throat to her inner thigh, seduced
each hollow and pulse. Her senses became supersensitive, and her entire body
sparked.

He took her down to the
mattress, eased her onto cool white cotton sheets. He lay on his side; she was
flat on her back. His rough hands slid all over her body. Her muscles felt
liquid as he palmed her breasts and brought her nipples to button hardness. His
fingers trailed to the slit of her navel, then followed the curve of her thighs
into the shadows between her legs, lingered there, then coaxed her wet.

He rolled over her, braced
on his elbows. She loved the hard, heavy feel of him. He parted her thighs with
his knee. She wrapped her legs about his hips.

Slowly, very, very slowly,
he entered her. He strained, controlled, until she could fully accept him.

His eyes slitted on his
second thrust.

Hers widened with pleasure.

The sensation was
indescribable, impossibly intense. The bed was small and meant for one person.
The walls closed around them. He bumped his shoulder, and she jammed her elbow.
His knees slipped, and he banged her hip.

Through it all, the
friction of their bodies was raw and primitive. They went at it, hot and
greedy. Desperate. His breath came hard and fast against her ear. Hers broke
sharp and jerky at his shoulder. The muscles in his chest contracted. Heat
licked and seared her senses.

Tension spiraled, and they
strained to reach completion. The air seemed to crackle as helpless spasms
claimed them. They climaxed together.

Kason groaned, deep and
guttural.

Dayne's own release came on
a soul-shattering sigh. She flew loose and free, and a sense of destiny settled
bone deep.

A slow meltdown followed.

They lay sated, skin
brushing naked skin, fingers twined and thighs wedged, their bodies now slick
with perspiration and sex. Even in his relaxed state, Kason looked powerfully
male, all ripped and semierect. She kissed his chest close to his heart and
felt it pound under her lips, steady and strong. Vital. His expession softened,
and to her surprise, a smile touched his mouth, small yet significant. His
first smile for her, slow, sexy, and ready to seduce her a second time. Suddenly,
nothing was the same anymore.

Thirteen

Two weeks later, Dayne Sheridan and Revelle Sullivan walked into the
Platinum shoot at nine sharp. Kason Rhodes strolled in at 9:20. His expression
held everyone at bay. The Rogues had fared poorly on the road against St. Louis
and Milwaukee, and his scowl would not photograph well. This was the first time
Dayne had seen him since their night together. An image of him naked, hard, and
inside her demanded a repeat performance.

Kason had yet to look her way. She hoped for the sake of the campaign,
one of the models would lighten his mood, put a smile on his face.

Gayle de Milo approached them, a statuesque sixty with gray hair and
eyes, and a warmth that could melt the hardest heart. She embraced everyone,
including Kason, with sincerity and heartfelt words. Kason showed no emotion at
all.

Dayne watched him as he took in Platinum. The jewelry store was
exquisite. Wallpaper in silver and gold paisley foil defined elegance. The dove
gray carpet was so thick that her feet sank an inch deep into the pile. In the
shape of a giant star, the jeweler's showcase angled to five points. Set with
pale amber glass, each arm displayed unique pieces from de Milo's new
cosmopolitan line.

Kason took over one corner of the room. He leaned against the wall,
viewing all that went on. The camera crew set up and checked the lighting.
Albie from Barnaby's East came at Kason with a tape measure, only to back away
and do a mental measurement.

“Definitely not preppie.” The haberdasher with the spiked hair and thin
eyebrows tapped his toe, debating out loud. “He's more rugged adventurer with a
criminal edge. Does anyone have a razor?”

“Kason doesn't need to shave.” Dayne heard Gayle de Milo veto the idea. “I
want him edgy.”

Albie tsk-tsked. “You need a male model that draws people into Platinum,
not a jock who scares business away.”

“He'll loosen up,” Gayle insisted.

“I'll take that bet,” Albie shot over his shoulder as he returned to the
long racks of wardrobe.

Dayne hung back as Revelle
next introduced the three models to Kason. Courtney, Bay, and Becca were all
blonde and blue-eyed, a pleasing contrast to his dark looks.

A twinge of jealousy forced
Dayne to look away. The women were all over Kason, chatting him up one side and
stroking him down the other. Each vied to be his love interest in the national
campaign.

Gayle de Milo wanted sexual
chemistry in the shoot. She suggested a test run with the models. One by one,
each would stand by the jewelry counter, pretending to look at earrings. Kason
would then walk through the door, his purpose to buy a pair for Mother's Day.
He'd check out the store, his gaze slowly settling on the beautiful customer.

The two male actors brought
in as extras would be staged at opposite ends of the jewelry case in muted
light, casual and browsing. The extras would keep their heads down, and not
look up for the camera. Gayle wanted viewer concentration on Kason, the female
model, and their love connection.

Dayne noticed Kason's face
tighten at the jeweler's words. He shifted his stance, stood taller, and the
models all stepped back. The women were wary of him.

Gayle clapped her hands,
directed, “Let's make the model selection, then work with wardrobe.”

Courtney took her place at
the circular center of the star showcase, where the earrings were displayed.
Dayne thought her slender and striking with her shiny shoulder-length hair.

“Work
the
look,” Gayle called from off camera. “Check each other out—get hot.”

Kason walked from the door
to the counter. His gaze swept the two customers, then hit on Courtney. The
model went coy, dipping her head and lowering her lashes. Kason did no more
than stare at her, totally indifferent.

“Not a spark,” Gayle
whispered to Revelle and Dayne. “Next,” she called out.

Bay moved in, wafer thin,
all poise and perfection. The tallest of the three, she added another four
inches to her height with stilettos. She stood eye level with Kason when he
crossed to her.

The model's eyes dilated
and her nostrils flared, she was turned on, but Kason didn't warm to her. Bay
put a lot of effort into arousing him. She ran her hand up his arm, stroked his
jaw, massaged the back of his neck.

Dayne could almost see
Kason's blood run cold.