Not wanting him to know just how much she desired the item, she schooled her features to show mild curiosity, nothing more. “How much for the jewelry box?”
He smiled, causing the wrinkled—puckered?—skin around his lips to deepen. “Today only, lass, I’ll let you have it for fifty dollars.”
“Fifty dollars?” She forced a laugh. “When the stones are missing and the lid is broken? I’ll give you five.”
He made a choking sound in the back of his throat, and when he spoke again, his burr was more pronounced. “No can do. I canna let a prize like that go for such a paltry sum. Not when there’s a tale that comes with it.” He wiggled his bushy silver brows. “Verra intriguing.”
“Well…” Confident he simply wished to drive up the price, Julia pursed her lips and donned a nonchalant air. “I’m not really into fairy tales.”
“Oh, you’ll like this one. There’s none like it. That I promise you.”
After a sufficient pause to prove her reluctance, she said, “Sure, why not?”
His eyes lit with amusement, as if he knew her game. “Story is, when a woman owns this here jewelry box, she’ll find the greatest pleasure ever known.”
Julia waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she said, “That’s it? That’s the big story? Own the box and find great pleasure?” For fifty dollars, she’d expected a story about naked dancers, bowls of cocaine and wild orgies. Disappointment coiled through her. “Just what is the greatest pleasure ever known?”
“I don’t rightly know.” He scratched his beard. A rain-scented breeze that reminded her of the calm after a storm wafted her way. “I guess pleasure’s different for everyone. Who’s to say?”
“The last female owner, I suppose.”
“Well, now, she lost her soul, so I canna be asking her, can I?”
“Lost her—oh. I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.”
“No, no. No need to be sorry. She was an ancestor of mine, you could say. I like to call her Granny Greedy.” He chuckled at his own joke. “Family legend says she created the box and kept it with her at all times, never letting it out of her sight. When she died, the damn thing had to be pried out of her fingers.” He barely paused before adding, “What’s your name, lass?”
“Julia Anderson.”
“Well, Jules me girl, I’ll be honest with you. I think you need this here box more than you realize. Great pleasure will put some color in those cheeks. Maybe put a sparkle in those eyes. So, are you interested in buying or not?”
Julia tried not to be insulted; she really did. She might not have any hobbies outside of work, and she might spend every evening in bed, reading sexy romance novels and watching made-for-TV movies, but she did have pleasure in her life. At the moment, she just couldn’t recall any.
“Thirty,” a nasally voice said from behind her. Julia spun around. The Mustang’s owner gave her a smug I’ve-got-you-beat-this-time grin. “I’ll pay thirty for it.”
“Well, lass?” the salesman prompted, giving her a chance to outbid.
After haggling for half an hour over the price, Julia finally paid seventy-three dollars—plus fifteen for the pipe. She’d been robbed. She knew it, just as she knew her opponent hadn’t really wanted the box. He’d wanted retribution, and he’d gotten it. She hadn’t been able to walk away without owning the “greatest pleasure.”
The moment she arrived home, an all-too-familiar anticipation filled her. She carefully placed her new purchases on the kitchen table, then gathered a rag and cleaning supplies. The bark of her neighbor’s dog pierced the air. Dappled midday sun streamed through the sapphire curtains that covered the large bay window on the far wall. Settling into a high-backed gold velvet chair, she cleaned every inch of the jewelry box with painstaking gentleness. There was something almost…magical about it. And she would swear it purred every time she stroked the corners.
Just as she began adding polish to the outer surface, she zeroed in on a tiny button hidden beneath the rim. She stilled, her heart drumming erratically in her chest. Excitement pounded through her veins. Would a push of the button open the lid? And if so, what would she find inside? Jewelry? Love letters? Nothing?
With shaky hands, she set aside her rag and pressed the button.
At the moment of contact, lights flickered on and off throughout the house, dancing shadows and light on the rose-tinted wallpaper. A pulsating purplish mist rose from the box, filling her entire kitchen.
Startled, Julia jumped to her feet, dropping the jewelry box as if it were nuclear waste. Was it? Instead of shattering, it landed atop the honey oak tabletop with a thud. She lifted her gaze…and froze in terror.
A man—a large man—a very large man—stood just in front of her. He spun, checking out his surroundings. He wore nothing more than a pair of black skintight pants and—wow! A long, menacing sword dangled between his shoulders.
A scream rose in her throat at the exact moment a hard lump formed, preventing any sound from emerging.
Wheezing with terror, she scanned the kitchen, looking for a way out. The back door was too far and bolted shut. The windows were closed. What to do? What the freak to do?
Sweat beaded across her forehead.
It didn’t matter that the man was, well…gorgeous, that his seductiveness hit her like an uncontrollable whirlwind, knocking her back a step. He didn’t belong here, didn’t belong in her home. Alone. With her. Panic intensifying, she assumed a karate position and prayed with every fiber of her being that she appeared menacing and lethal.
Why had she never taken self-defense lessons? Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“I know martial arts,” she forced out. “My body is a dangerous weapon.”
He merely arched a brow, all Are you sure?
He knows I’m lying. At least she could memorize his description just in case she survived. Concentrate. His towering height almost made him level with the ceiling. Inky shoulder-length hair framed a strong forehead, a straight nose and high, bladelike cheekbones.
Yet it was his eyes that truly drew her attention. They were pale violet, almost lavender—wait. They were blue, a light aqua. No, no. They were emerald green. But that wasn’t right, either. She blinked, shook her head and realized his eyes weren’t one color. They were all colors, shimmering in the light, only certain colors highlighted at certain times; those irises glowed with a life of their own, catching her attention until she forgot where she stood—and why she was standing there.
His skin was bronzed, sexy and ridged with muscle. And oh, what strength! His stomach muscles formed a vee that pointed her eyes lower, lower still, directly between his legs. She gulped. He was like a savage romance novel warrior come to life, everything about him oozing carnality while screaming with danger.
He stared at her a long while before taking a step toward her.
She recoiled, but the chair stopped her retreat. A slow grin lifted the corners of his full, mouthwatering lips, revealing perfect white teeth. For some reason, the smile seemed less than genuine. Almost predatory.
Her heart galloped before skipping a solitary beat.
“You summoned?” he asked.
Summoned this gorgeous warrior? In her wildest fantasies, perhaps, but not in reality. She hadn’t even known such beauty existed. Besides, the man had a sword that looked like it could chop her in half in less than the time required to blink. He wanted to kill her, or worse, so no! Julia hadn’t summoned him.
“Me? Summon you?” Eyes impossibly wide, she shook her head. “I promise I did no such thing.”
He ignored her denial as if he hadn’t heard her or didn’t care. “What do you wish of me, female?”
“Besides your absence?” She had to escape. Yes! Escape. That was the smart thing to do. With the back door locked and windows shut, she had only one option—the front entrance. Perhaps if she inched around the chair, just…like…this. She managed to take one tiny step to the right. Tw
o.
“If I leave, I cannot kiss your naked body or let you kiss mine.” His slightly accented tone dripped with boredom and still managed to be the most compelling, erotic voice she had ever heard. Honey-rich, warm, like refuge on a stormy night.
Even still, the word naked caused terror to twist inside her stomach.
She gained another step. “What do you want from me?” Each word ripped from the depths of her throat. “Why are you here?”
Annoyance wafted from him. “To please you, of course.”
“I don’t want you to please me. I don’t even want you within a hundred yards of me.” Another step.
He studied her and frowned. “Do I frighten you?”
Never admit your fear. Over and over her sister’s words drummed through her mind. Never admit your fear. Julia gulped, inched to the right just a bit more.
Her sister Faith was a highly respected archaeologist who thrived in high-pressure situations.
Julia licked her lips and said, “Yes. I mean, no! I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of anything.”
“That is good.” He nodded with satisfaction. “For I will never hurt you…unless you command it.”
“I don’t know you,” she continued, babbling now. “I’ve never seen you before. And you’re in my house.” She gave a half-hysterical, half-desperate laugh. “I didn’t invite you, yet there you stand. No, I’m not afraid. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Nothing at all.”
A mocking smile played at the corners of his lips. “Then why, little mouse, are you widening the distance between us, even as we speak?”
She froze, unable to reply. Mouse? Mouse!
“Do you want me to harm you, girl?” he asked, his brow furrowed with confusion.
“No!” She raised her arms higher, placing her weapons of mass destruction—aka her fists—directly in his line of vision. He didn’t seem impressed. “Of course not.”
“Yet you are still frightened?”
Yes! “First of all, people lie. Second, I don’t want you here. I just want you to leave. Please.”
His confusion magnified as he folded both arms over his muscled chest. “I must admit this is a bedroom game I have not yet played.”
“This isn’t a bedroom game!” she screeched. “Leave!”
He frowned. “I am bound to you. I must stay where you are.”
Bound. “Let’s not be hasty,” she rushed on, trying for an easy, carefree tone now. If she stayed calm, he might stay calm, too. Though she was pretty sure she sounded like an asthmatic running through a pollen field, as far from calm as possible. “No one needs to be tied up, okay?”
For a moment, frustration superseded his confusion. “What will it take to convince you I am speaking truth?”
Easy! “You, leaving. Right now. And take your sword with you.”
“You mean leave leave? As in leave this house without you?” He laughed as if she’d just cracked a joke. “Come now, little mouse. No need to continue playing hard to get. I’m a sure thing.”
Queasy, she backed up another step.
“Tell me what you truly desire of me. Caresses? Erotic words? I’ll do anything. Nothing is taboo.”
Mouse again. Julia scoured her mind for something that might keep him from “caressing” her body and talking dirty while he did it. “Look, I just started my period, and I have cramps, and I haven’t shaved my legs in forever. I haven’t had a bath, for that matter. Trust me, you do not want to caress me.”
“Then I will entertain you in other ways.” He released a resigned sigh. “I’m not here simply for your sexual pleasure. I’m here to entertain you, converse with you and protect you. Your needs are my commands.”
What the what? His claims didn’t even compute. A man who wanted only to cater to her every whim? Impossible! “Uh, well…”
He persisted. “Shall I dance naked upon the tabletop? Feed you by hand? Pose so that you may paint my likeness?”
While all of those scenarios sounded quite nice for any other circumstance, they didn’t appeal to her in the moment. “My husband is here. He’s big. And mean. And he hates when other men come near me. He killed the last one who tried. It was a violent death. Very bloody.”
Indifferent, the intruder shrugged. “I’m here for your pleasure. Not his. Besides, your husband’s strength is no match for mine.” His tone held no hint of pride, only fact. “Unless that is your hope,” he added, his pale violet eyes accusing but accepting. “Do you wish me to kill your mate?”
She almost fainted right then and there. “I prefer no one be murdered in my home,” she managed to squeak out.
“It will be as you desire, then.” He held out his arms, the picture of compromise.
“Uh, thank you?”
He waited for her to say more. When she didn’t, he shifted from one foot to the other, clearly impatient. “The time has come. Decide what you wish me to do, female. I do not like this waiting.”
He spoke as if her word mattered. As if she had some kind of authority over him.
“I will do whatever you like,” he repeated. “All you must do is make the order.”
Surely that statement was too good to be true. She arched a brow and studied him. “You’ll do anything? Anything at all?”
“Aye.” His jaw clenched, as if this were somehow painful.
“I asked you to leave and you didn’t do it.”
“Because you didn’t mean it.”
“I always mean what I say.” Sometimes. Probably.
“This time, you didn’t. Had you, I would have been compelled to obey, your every desire mine to fulfill. Whatever pleases you, that will I do.”
Well, she knew exactly what she wanted. “Go back to where you came from—without touching me. That’s all I want.”
His eyes widened with surprise, then quickly tapered to half-mast with suspicion. “Then why am I still here? I think you wish to taste the bliss of my touch.”
The bliss of his touch? The murderous bliss? “Look, the sooner you go,” she rushed out, surprising herself at the evenness of her tone, “the more pleased I’ll be.”
“Let me see if I understand you. You wish me to return to the box, even though you do not actually want me to return to the box? And you expect me to do it without touching you?”
The box? She held up her right palm. “I swear that’s what I want. You gone, without touching me.”
Everything about the intruder relaxed. He grinned again, this time wider, more genuine. “You shall have your wish, little mouse.” With that, he disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving a scented cloud of masculinity in his wake.
Julia’s eyes darted around the kitchen, going from one corner to the other. Okay, what had just happened here? How had Mr. Let Me Touch Your Naked Body simply appeared, then vanished? One second she’d been alone, the next she hadn’t, and now, in less than a heartbeat, she was alone again.
Totally confused, she sank into the chair behind her. There were only two explanations for what had just happened. Either a large man with very quick reflexes and a deadly sword had, indeed, invaded her home. Or she needed intense psychotherapy.
Leaning toward the second. Hearing the legend associated with the jewelry box must have somehow caused her mind to try to prove it. Hence the hallucination of a tall, strong man who spouted nonsense about “pleasure” and “caressing,” and a temporary purple mist, because what fantasy was complete without erotic lighting?
Relief surged through her, but quickly evaporated.
A perverted killer hadn’t invaded her kitchen. Oh, no. She was simply having a mental breakdown. Wonderful. Just freaking wonderful.
CHAPTER TWO
Regardless Of Personal Feelings, Your Mistress Must Be Treated Respectfully
MONDAY MORNING JULIA opened her shop thirty minutes late—a first for her since she usually arrived an hour early. The problem? She’d overslept. All the blame fell on Mr. Half-Naked Body’s massive sun-kissed, delectable, mouthwatering comple
tely lickable shoulders, of course.
All night she had endured vivid, realistic dreams where he did, in fact, please her body, touching and caressing her. Pleasuring her. Several times! When her alarm clock had erupted in its shrill ring, she’d simply been too tired to rise.
At least she’d been smiling.
But she wasn’t smiling anymore.
With her thoughts so fixated on Mr. Body, she’d scratched a late Victorian walnut chair, decreasing its value. Next, she had dropped a 1950s vase, shattering the precious crystal into a thousand tiny pieces—three hundred dollars in the garbage. But best of all, she had stepped in a pile of dog poop on her lunch break. Now, even though she’d scrubbed her shoe clean, the scent of puppy à la manure followed her everywhere.
Julia heaved a sigh. She needed a distraction to keep her mind off this increasingly atrocious day.
As if hearing her silent plea, an eerie whistle drifted from the back of the shop.
“No, no, no,” she muttered. With a grimace, she massaged her temples to ward off the sudden ache. The store’s bathroom pipes were acting up again. She almost stomped her foot. This wasn’t the kind of distraction she wanted. Left with no other choice, she gripped the phone and punched in her landlord’s number.
After the third ring, a gruff, craggy voice answered, saying, “Hello.”
“Hi, Mr. Schetfield. It’s Julia Anderson. I’m calling to see if you’ve hired anyone to fix the plumbing here at the shop.”
“The plumbing’s broke?” A stream of air crackled over the line, and she pictured him smoking one of his cigars. “When did that happen?”
Deep breath in, deep breath out. Stay calm. Try to forget that you’ve phoned him three times in as many weeks about this problem. Could be worse, Julia. You could be imagining Mr. Body’s luscious navel and the dark hair that plunged to his—
Argh. Enough!
“We’ve talked about this. Several times! The toilet doesn’t flush,” she reminded him. “The sink turns on and off of its own free will, and the pipes are making that noise again. Something needs to be done, and soon.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, imagining another week of closing the shop to run next door every time she got hit by an urge to pee.
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