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tongue.
    “That takes a lot of self-determination.”
    “Jesus, so can binding agreements,” he muttered, fully aware that he was about to lose his mind.
    They walked out of the elevator and through the lobby in silence. He held open the door, gritting his teeth as she lowered herself onto the back seat of the car. “My assistant, Clarissa, will meet you there. A capable young woman who has all her oars in the water.”
    “What? You’re not coming with me?”
    His smiled tightly, gazing down at her face overwritten by disbelief. “I’ve some things that have come up.” He wasn’t about to say, My level of arousal, for one thing. “The photographer and tech are fully knowledgeable of how to run a screen test. Besides, it’s mostly a program-driven test with computer analytics.”
    “Why didn’t you just leave me to get ready on my own, then?”
    He inhaled, wondering that himself. “Learn to roll with the punches, baby. Things change from moment to moment. I’ll catch up with you later on today. Clarissa keeps me abreast of all that occurs. Not to worry. You’re in excellent hands.” And he wouldn’t be tempted to cross the line with his own hands, say, on her body. Not after this morning’s bedroom unraveling.
    “So, you’ve delivered me into the custody of a handler. Is that it?”
    “Melodrama isn’t your best color. If you need to find me, use this.” He reached into his pocket and extracted a fully-programmed cellphone. “Speed dial number one gets my cell. Number two—the office. The rest is up to you.”
    * * *
    At the last second, Baxter had texted him regarding a SNAFU that had arisen impacting Orion’s contract. Alana’s manager had sent over a copy of a fully-executed agreement signed by Christina McDougal that would require some hoop-jumping to undo.
    Jon would have put it on the shelf, but then Baxter clarified that it tied all the members of Orion, individually and collectively, up in knots to the wanker. No sense in discussing this with Alana, especially with her screen test looming. Stepping away from the car, he watched its tail lights recede down the street before he tapped on the glass of his car parked up the street.
    Jon pulled out a list he’d written upstairs. “I’m driving myself this morning.” He handed the sheet of paper over to Dwayne.
    “When do you need this completed?” Dwayne’s expression remained impassive as he studied the list. Impressive, considering the ex-military commando had one hell of a day ahead of him.
    “I want everything ready to roll by tonight.”
    “No prob,” Dwayne retorted, chomping on a wad of gum. “I’m not into a Charlie Foxtrot situation.”
    “No substitutions, either. I want it cleaned, painted, sparkling—like new. Make certain the cottage is ready by six.”
    Behind the shades Dwayne wore, the man’s gaze never wavered. “Consider it done. I’m on it.”
    If Dwayne gave his word, Jon considered the matter a done deal. “How many days?” Jon asked.
    “A week and no cigs. Cold fucking turkey.”
    “Harsh without the patches. I guess those are considered pussy shite.”
    “Straight up. I don’t want this to be pleasant. I want to remember how much it sucked so I learn my lesson.”
    “I hear that.” Jon nodded and pounded a double-slap on top of the roof. Maybe that’s why his hunger for Alana rocketed out-of-control. Nothing sucked better than her sweet lips around his cock. The whole package of her body had him spinning. He ran his hand over his jaw, encountering stubble, noting this was the first time in years he’d forgotten to shave.
    Walking into the deserted parking garage, he opted to take the stairs and read a message he just received from his attorney concerning Alana’s prick of a manager. “Bastard,” he grunted at the accumulation of problems disturbing his morning.
    The blood pounded in his temples. Hell and high water would come to pass before he let Alana get within twenty yards of Tyler. He