t didn’t take Kenny long to collar one of the airlineemployees, establish who he was, and get VIP treatment. Ignoring Emma’s protests, he made arrangements for their flight to Las Vegas.

She should have simply dug in her heels and refused to move, but instead, she trotted along at his side, barely keeping up with Mr. Speedy, as she tried to talk to him. He refused to listen, refused to wait for her luggage to be retrieved, and before she knew it, she was headed to Las Vegas for an elopement.

She wouldn’t marry him, of course. She couldn’t. It was unthinkable.

But so tempting.

And so wrong.

“Kenny, we have to talk about this!”

“Nothing to talk about.” He pulled his baseball cap down over his eyes and leaned back into his first-class seat next to her. “You ruined my reputation. Now you’re going to save it.”

“Rubbish! We don’t have to get married for that.”

“You already told me Hugh fired you, then kicked you out of your house. What else are you going to do?”

“I’ll find another job and a place to stay. I’m not helpless, and I’m not in need of rescue!”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to catch up on my sleep.”

“I do mind. I mind very much. I—Oh, what’s the use? Until you decide to talk, I’m wasting my breath.”

She turned to gaze out the window of the plane and wonder how her life had slipped so far out of her control in such a short time. What an awful day. She’d barely slept last night, and then there’d been that horrid meeting with Hugh.

Something nagged at her, something Hugh had said, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. She tried to reconstruct their interview, but that only depressed her.

At her side, Kenny stirred in his sleep. She had to make him listen to her, and, as soon as he woke up, that was exactly what she would do. No matter how difficult it might be, she had to right the terrible wrong she’d done to him. But first she needed to talk him out of this silly notion that they were going to elope.

The woman in the seat behind her had been arguing with her male companion ever since the plane had taken off, and, once again, she raised her voice. Emma thought of Torie. She’d been awful to Dexter all day. Why had he put up with it? Emma knew Torie was going through a lot of emotional pain, but it really wasn’t fair to take it out on him.

Fair. As if anything about life was fair.

As Emma pondered life’s unfairness, Torie led Dexter through the front door of Kenny’s Dallas condo. She’d told him she needed to pick something up here, but the truth was, she wanted to settle things between them, and she’d rather do it here than back in Wynette.

The condo was stuffy, so she made her way over to the air conditioner and flipped the control. Then she stalked into the kitchen. Maybe something cold to drink would improve her mood.

Dex headed for Kenny’s stereo, but instead of looking through the CDs like any normal person, he pulled out one of the components and inspected it from behind. Damn him. He’d been stiff and starchy all day. At least he had been with her. With Emma, he’d been all friendly and chatty. And he’d gotten worse after they’d left the airport. Torie might as well have been invisible because nothing she did got a reaction from him. She’d criticized his driving, made fun of his vocabulary, and told him he could have gotten a better haircut from a dog groomer, but he hadn’t paid any attention. Instead, he’d merely gotten quieter, as if she no longer interested him.

She grabbed a can of Sprite from the refrigerator, tossed her purse on the counter, then kicked off her chunky-heeled leather sandals. She was wearing them with a long black knit tank dress that set off her figure and should have made him drool, but didn’t seem to be having any effect. She’d never felt as insecure around a man as she did around Dexter. “If you want something to drink, get it yourself,” she snapped.

“Nothing, thank you.”

His quiet manner enraged her. “You could be a little more supportive, you know. This hasn’t been an easy day for me.”

“Why is that?”

“Isn’t it obvious? My only brother’s getting married.”

“You’re happy about that,” he pointed out with a patience that made her want to scream. “Remember?”

“I hate it when you’re sarcastic.”

“I’m never sarcastic.”

“Well, aren’t you Mr. Perfect.”

He sighed. “Suppose you just tell me exactly what’s bothering you.”

Everything was bothering her! He was bored with her. He hadn’t given her a single compliment, or noticed that she wasn’t smoking, or even defended himself when she’d attacked. She knew exactly what was going on. He’d grown bored with her because she wasn’t smart like Emma, and she wasn’t kind like Emma, and she wasn’t as interesting as Emma. Now all he wanted to do was get away from her. Well, she wasn’t going to let him go. Not untilshe kicked him out!

“We’ll have to spend the night here.” She sprawled down on the couch, letting her dress slide up as she settled back into the cushions. “I’m too tired to drive back to Wynette tonight.”

He spoke in a low, tight voice that was unlike his normal thoughtful tones. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Of course you don’t! Because you’re a tight ass who wouldn’t know a good time if it bit you.”

“Torie...”

Furious, she leaped to her feet. “Can’t you stand the truth? You’re stuffy and boring and—”

“I suggest you be quiet.”

“What’s the matter? Are you afraid I’ll jump you and find out that you’re missing a pair of balls?”

“That does it!”

The next thing she knew, she was dangling upside down over his shoulder. “Let me down! What in the hell are you doing?” She punched him in the back.

“I’m taking you upstairs to spank you.”

“What!” She was so shocked that she stopped punching him. And then her mood soared. She finally had his attention. “You’re kidding.”

He wrapped his arm tighter around the thin knit fabric that covered her thighs and began hauling her up the stairs. “How could I be kidding? I have no sense of humor. Remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” The upside-down jolting made her dizzy, but, at the same time, she was beginning to feel better than she had all day.

The jolting stopped as he reached the top of the stairs. He hesitated for a moment, then made his way into the nearest bedroom, which happened to be Kenny’s. He dropped her in the middle of the bed.

“I’m afraid you’ve pushed me too far, Victoria.”

Finally!She set her teeth in what she hoped looked like a snarl. “You go to hell.”

He grabbed her, jerked her toward him, and turned her over his knees. “I realize this will be painful,” he said in that stodgy way that he knew pissed her off, “not to mention politically incorrect, but it has to be done.”

She snorted. Not in a million years would he go through with this.

“I mean it, Victoria. You’d better brace yourself.”

She cocked her head, looked up at him, and said dryly, “Maybe you’d better give me a piece of wood to bite down on for the pain.”

He chuckled.

She smiled to herself.

Then he smacked the flat of his hand down on her butt.

She was so surprised that she nearly spoiled the whole thing by rolling off his lap. “Ow! That hurt.”

“I apologize.” He smacked her again.

She winced, then thought about biting him in the calf or simply pushing herself away, but she was too curious to see what was going to happen next. And she also felt this warm little wriggle of... something... that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Imagine Dexter O’Conner, the biggest dweeb in Wynette, Texas, having the nerve to do something like this.

Another smack.

It didn’t feel good, but it didn’t exactly hurt either, and, in a perverse way, it was nice to have finally riled him so much. “You brute,” she managed.

“Believe me, this is hurting you a lot more than it’s hurting me.”

She grimaced, then braced herself for his next smack. Instead, his open hand came to rest on her butt, and she had the distinct impression he was copping a feel.

“Whatcha doin’ back there, Dex?”

He snatched his hand away and cleared his throat, but he still sounded a little hoarse. “Have you learned your lesson?”

“Uhmm.”

“Well? Have you?”

“I wonder if Kenny knows he’s got a dust bunny under his bed.”

He smacked her, then sighed. “Nowhave you learned your lesson?”

“I can’t believe you’re wearing brown socks with blue pants.”

A long silence. Finally, “This isn’t working, is it?”

“Maybe we should try it naked and see if that improves things.”

She tensed, waiting for him to get all stodgy and let her go. But he surprised her again by giving a resigned sigh. “An excellent idea.”

A thrill shot through her as he tugged up her long skirt and flipped it over her head. His palm settled over her bare bottom, and she shivered.

She waited in anticipation, but his hand didn’t move.

“Torie... your panties...”

“Yes?”

“Where are they?”

“Look for a tiny little strap of flesh-colored silk.”

“I don’t see any—Oh, there it is.” His voice had developed a rasp. “Kind of wedged down between...”

“I’m sure a more experienced man would have found it right away.”

“I have plenty of experience. I’m just used to seeing panties from the front.” He paused. “This is nice, though.”

“Glad you approve.” She smiled to herself. “Dex?”

“Uh-huh?”

“The blood’s starting to pool in my head. Do you think you could get on with it?” She shifted her elbow on the carpet to make her position more comfortable, and, as she moved, discovered she was resting on a lumpy surface. One very large lump in particular.

Once again, he cleared his throat. “Get on with it? Oh, uh—yes. Sure.”

His open palm connected with her bottom, but his heart wasn’t in it, and it didn’t even sting. Then he began stroking. As if he were caressing silk.

It felt good—wonderful, in fact—but her awkward position kept her from enjoying it as much as she wished. “I think I’m pretty sure I’ve learned my lesson now. Do you suppose I could get up?”

“Well... yes, I—I don’t see any reason to embarrass you further.” He traced another delicious curve over her bottom.

She let her eyes drift shut as he doodled. It felt so good that it took her a while to remember she had an agenda. Mustering herself, she straightened, then turned and sank back on the bed, not making the slightest effort to push her dress down. The strap of flesh-colored lace that covered her in the front wasn’t wide enough to be really significant. She slipped the very tips of her fingers beneath it and gazed up at him. Then she licked her lips like a cheap porno queen.

He paled. Was that a film of perspiration on his forehead? Poor baby. She stroked herself again. Her antics might be a little skanky, but they sure were effective. Still, as she looked up at him with half-lidded eyes, she tried to prepare herself for disappointment. Dex was an egghead, not a stallion, and he was bound to be a dud. Even so, she’d come here to settle things with him, and nothing would do that more effectively than bad sex.

He stood, and his hands went to the buttons on the cuffs of his oxford shirt. A thrill of victory shot through her as he began unfastening them.

He, however, looked displeased. “You do understand that I’m philosophically opposed to the two of us having premarital intercourse.”

His eyes were glued on her fingers as she toyed with her lacy thong. She shifted one knee a bit to improve his view. “You’ve made your opinion on the subject real clear.”

He began opening the front of his shirt. “Unfortunately, a weakness in my character is making it impossible for me to continue standing by my principles.”

“That must be real painful for you.”

“You have no idea.”

She couldn’t repress a grin.

His shirt dropped to the floor, and then one eyebrow arched in amusement. “You’re having the time of your life, aren’t you?”

She grinned, let a hand drift to her breast, and, like a male sexual fantasy come to life, caressed herself through the dress.

His earlobes turned red. Then he set his jaw in a stubborn line and crossed his arms over a lean, but nicely formed, chest. “If we have intercourse, we’re getting married.”

“Will you stop calling it intercourse! It’s f—”

“Torie...” His voice sounded a low, warning note. “Until we’re both naked, you’ll watch your language.”

Abandoning her porn queen routine, she threw her arms over her head and groaned. “You are such a geek!”

“Exactly. And don’t you forget it.” He set his knee on the bed, cupped her inner thigh, and then stretched out beside her. For the first time, she noticed little golden lights dancing in his eyes, as if he possessed some secret knowledge that had escaped her. She began to feel uneasy. His fingertips brushed the soft skin of her thigh.

“If, at any time, my size bothers you, please say something at once.”

Her eyes popped open.

He smiled.

She swallowed. “When you saysize, Dex, you’re talking about your height, right? I mean, you’re a tall man, and...”

“No, Victoria. That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Oh.” Just like that, she lost the upper hand. She tried to think how to get it back, but his gentle caresses were screwing up her brain waves.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

She glowered at him. “Jeez, are you going to announce every damn thing you’re—”

“I want to avoid miscommunication.”

She thought about slugging him, but then his lips settled over her own.

Mmm...Dex did kiss nice. Her days of nicotine deprivation no longer felt like such a sacrifice as he managed to find that perfect point between dry and sloppy, with his tongue giving a delicious hint of things to come. She decided she could kiss Dexter O’Conner for hours.

And then she realized that he’d let her. Unlike her ex-husbands, Dex was a man who appreciated process, not just results, and he didn’t appear to be in any hurry to get to the main event. He stroked the inside of her mouth and let their tongues play. It was soft, sweet, and thrilling. She ran her hands over his back, his hips, appreciating the textures of him, the clean, honest scent. For the first time in her life, she felt as if she were making love with a man instead of a series of boys. Her eyes teared.

He sensed the change in her mood and drew back slightly. But instead of asking her a lot of stupid Dex-questions, he simply kissed her eyelids, then returned to her mouth.

That made the tears pour in earnest.

He drew back again. Through a haze, she saw the concern reflected in his serious, thoughtful face. “Do you need some time?”

She shook her head.

He took her at her word. He kissed her eyelids again, sipping up the moisture, then returned to her mouth. Her arms wrapped themselves around him, and she no longer felt like crying. This was too sweet to spoil with tears.

Once again, he seemed to sense her change of mood, and once again, he drew back and whispered to her. “I’m going to touch you now. Not inside your panties. Just outside.”

She felt herself nod.

He traced the little strap of moist lace between her legs. Up and down. Rubbing. Stroking. Thrilling her beyond belief.

It went on and on until she could barely stand it. Then his lips met her earlobe. “I have to take off your dress. I need to see you.”

And she wanted to show him. Oh, yes...

He removed her dress with an uncharacteristic clumsiness. Then he touched the clasp on her bra. “After I take this off, I’m kissing your breasts.”

Was he going to broadcast every move? “You don’t have to ask for permission.”

“Oh, I’m not.” He pushed aside the cups of her bra and gazed down at her. “Just giving you a chance to prepare yourself.”

Then he set about making her feel as if her breasts were the most precious objects on earth. He studied them, kissed, tweaked, suckled, and studied them again. “I think,” he said, “it’s time for me to take off your panties.”

“I think,” she said, “it’s time for me to take off yours.”

He gazed down at her, took another nibble. “All right.”

She shot to her knees, and her fingers flew to the fastener at his fly. But before she could open it, he stilled her hand with his own. “Just remember what I said about getting married.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She brushed his fingers away and pulled on the tab. A moment later, she was nearly speechless.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We’ll take our time.”

Her mouth felt dry as she stared down at him. “I’m not exactly worried. Astonished is more like it.”

He chuckled, then shed the rest of his clothes. She tossed aside her dress and bra until the only thing left between them was a flesh-colored thong. He slipped his thumb beneath it and pulled it off. “Lay back in the pillows, sweetheart. I’m going to love you.”

A sigh slipped through her lips. She couldn’t ever remember feeling so safe.

As the minutes ticked by, she discovered new things about Dex. He liked to inspect everything. Thoroughly. To evaluate, measure, and caress. And his curiosity seemed just about insatiable.

She also discovered he had amazing powers of concentration, that he wasn’t the slightest bit fastidious, and that he didn’t grow bored easily. A less pleasant discovery was the pleasure he took in making a woman beg.

“Please, Dex... no more. Oh, please...”

“Soon, sweetheart. Soon.”

When he finally worked himself inside her—announcing his intentions first in language that was thrillingly graphic—she discovered that they fit together just fine. His last announcement, however, was the one that sent her over the moon.

“I’m going to come inside you.”

Moments later, she discovered that Dex was a man of his word.