Dark Lover. Brenda Joyce

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      He laughed. “I don’t care what Hemmer thinks an’ I hardly need Becca. I know ye liked the ring, but did ye like the rest of the goods?”

      She inhaled.

      Show me the goods.

      And she’d dropped her dress…

      He was trying to make her recall that moment—his being in control, and the humiliation that had followed. Worse, his image was now engraved on her mind. “I always like eye candy, Maclean.”

      “Ye’ve never seen—or had—eye candy like mine.”

      Unfortunately she was completely breathless. “Sure of yourself, are you?”

      “Very.” His gray eyes remained mocking. He leaned close and murmured, “Ye can take the ring off any time, Sam. Just say when and where.”

      He’d walked out on her before, but this time, he was in pursuit. It was hard to think clearly, much less wonder why. And damn it, it was hard to look away from his smoldering gray gaze. His words intensified the currents sizzling in the room. “Gee, a come-on. Last time you weren’t very interested. Why don’t you give that honor to your girlfriend?”

      “But I want ye to have the honor.” He seemed amused. “To make up fer my bad behavior at Loch Awe.”

      Sam fought thinking about taking that ring off and touching him where it counted. She’d forgotten the attraction that raged between them, against her judgment and her will. But she had not forgotten their last encounter, oh no, and she never would.

      And she knew that inwardly he was laughing at her. He was not repentant at all. “I don’t like men coming on to me,” she said flatly. “I call the shots.”

      His mouth curled. “Of course. Ye like to be the one seducing yer little boys. Or should I say toys?”

      He was right. “Do you have a problem with strong women, Maclean?”

      “Aye, I do. I like my women soft an’ hot. An’ we both know ye have a problem with strong men.”

      She slowly smiled. “My problem is I’ve never met a man as strong as me—especially in the bedroom.”

      His smile was wide. “Now who’s the arrogant one? When yer ready to take a chance, ye’ll find out how wrong ye are.”

      Sam had the disturbing notion that he’d give her the ride of her life. “I’m always ready—except when it comes to jet-setting playboys with massive egos like you.”

      “Ouch,” he said. “So ye haven’t forgiven me fer Loch Awe. Ye were insulted.”

      “I can’t really recall what happened at Loch Awe,” she snapped.

      He laughed. “Ye can recall. I left ye standing naked in my salon, instead of begging fer yer favors like all your boys do. I didn’t grovel. I didn’t pant or drool. I didn’t give ye the favor ye wanted me to. Ye were furious with me. Come, Sam, we both know the kind of woman ye are. Ye never forgive an’ ye never forget. An’ we both know ye didn’t forget me.”

      Her temper soared. “Frankly, I haven’t given you a thought since last December,” she lied. “Can your huge ego handle it?”

      “My huge ego can handle anything—anyway ye want.”

      “I’ll pass…like last time.”

      “So ye do recall last time,” he said softly. “When I didn’t give ye the chance to say no.”

      She trembled, furious.

      “Are ye sure ye don’t wish fer a trophy? So there’s no danger that ye forget this night?”

      “No.” There was no satisfaction in saying “no” now. Even as angry as she was, she knew she wasn’t going to forget his screwing Becca, not for a long time. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re no prize, Maclean, no matter what you seem to think.”

      He shrugged indifferently and murmured, “How will ye know if ye don’t try the goods?”

      Sam turned to go. “Yeah, of course, you’re the best there is. I’ve never met a man who didn’t think he was God’s gift in the sack,” she retorted over her shoulder.

      He seized her arm. She was forced to halt and their gazes clashed. His stare never wavered. “I’m the best.”

      His words made her feel faint for a moment. Sam wanted to retort, but she just stood there, recalling the look on his face a moment ago. Becca had seemed to be having an otherworldly orgasm, while he was hunting his own pleasure—almost as if it were an effort. She’d heard that sex with near-immortals was really different—that the rapture was somehow endless. Frankly, she didn’t believe it but she was sure he was damned good—when inspired.

      He was never going to have the chance to prove it to her.

      “Ye’ll never want a boy toy again,” he said softly.

      “Your ego,” she said as softly, “is off the charts. Some women might find it attractive—I don’t. It diminishes any other attributes you might actually have.”

      He grinned. “My ego can’t diminish what yer thinkin’ about.”

      She pulled free of his grasp. “You’ve got the goods. Big deal.”

      “Yer salivating.”

      It was definitely time to leave before she blew a gasket. She turned to storm out, when she remembered that she wasn’t supposed to let him out of her sight. In that instant, she recalled what was in Hemmer’s vault—what he wanted, what HCU wanted. She slowly faced him. “Let’s talk turkey. How’s the vault?”

      His brows lifted. “I don’t know.”

      “Why not?”

      He gestured at the bed. “I’ve been busy. Ye took yer time an’ I decided to start the evening off with a bang.”

      He had been expecting her. “Did you get a peek at the guest list?”

      He shrugged. “Our paths were bound to cross, sooner or later.”

      “I don’t travel in Hemmer’s circles.”

      “Now ye do,” he said flatly. “Yer a Rose. Yer cousin married my father. Of course ye’d hunt Hemmer now.”

      Sam stared, finally somewhat diverted from his sexuality and virile appeal. Was he in touch with Brie? “Is the page the real deal?”

      “The page?” Both dark brows lifted. “I don’t know. Rupert must think so.”

      He sure must, to spend over two hundred million dollars on it, Sam thought.

      “Are ye sure ye won’t have a drink with me? We can discuss our mutual interests.” His eyes sparked with amusement.

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