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they had been in love, when the risque had been acceptable, when she'd thought he would never hurt her. But her life had changed. She wouldn't think about being naked and at his mercy.
    He rubbed his chin. His eyes lingered on her throat. “You want it. I know you do."
    She couldn't think of a biting reply and once more made as if to rise. His palm hurt against her thigh. He pressured her back down. “We have some unfinished business. You know that, don't you?"
    This time, she thought of a cutting remark. “You just want another round in jail, don't you?"
    If she had thought she would ruffle his calm exterior, she had been wrong.
    "Remember how you loved me? How you couldn't get enough of me? How we were going to get married?” He reached out and touched her cheek and twirled a tendril of loose hair gently between his thumb and index finger.
    She tugged on his finger, like a child grabbing on to an interesting digit. The movement did nothing to discourage the intimacy. His hand remained immoveable. “I like the way your curves fill that dress. But really, that alteration"—he nodded at the lace—"wasn't necessary. I picked it out myself. I thought the colour would set off your beautiful hazel eyes to perfection."
    "Get away from me,” was all she managed. She wanted to rip the dress off, now that she knew her fiance had had little to do with selecting it. Was that another reason why he had been so withdrawn this evening?
    Michael gave an easy, careless smile as he travelled his palm up her leg, pushing the velvet up towards the juncture of her thighs, before he inched his fingers around her waist and to her lower back. “And if I don't? What are you going to do? What would you charge me with? Talking to a gorgeous woman? Wanting the best for her because I'm still in love with her? Wouldn't be murder this time, would it?"
    He inched his hand surreptitiously up her spine and grabbed the end of her ponytail to pull her head slightly back. Never before had she been so torn apart. She wanted to make the kind of love that stole her breath away, but he was a brutal killer who had spent time in prison. She wanted the fire, but she might just as well have taken a shower in an icy waterfall. She wanted him. She hated him.
    "Don't touch me,” came out as a breathy whisper.
    He grinned, showing bright white, even teeth. “I want you to understand something. So listen carefully. I'm in your life till death do us part, sweetheart."
    "I'm getting married soon."
    "To me."
    "No."
    "Yes."
    "To Brad."
    "I won't let you. You'd be making the next largest mistake of your life."
    Her chest heaved up and down, the internal fight raging within her. Was she still in love with him? Even after all the time she had spent trying to purge him from her system? Trying to forget him?
    "Aren't you going to ask what your first big mistake was?"
    "Setting eyes on you,” she flashed back.
    His fingers burned into her flesh when he dropped his hand to her knee and gave a brittle smile. “When you testified against me."
    "I told the truth.” She caught a glimpse of Brad strolling through the crowd. The noise had dimmed as Michael and she had exchanged their softly spoken words.
    "Did you—or were you just trying to get rid of me so you could turn your attention to someone else?"
    Before she could think through the consequences, she twisted in her chair and slapped his cheek.
    Even above the sounds of mirth, cutlery and plates being banged together, bare, flat hand against flesh echoed to the nearest tables. Conversations immediately stopped. Heads turned. In open-mouthed astonishment, people stared. Abruptly, Nicole realised how her split-second action had looked. She clapped her hand over her mouth. She had dared to raise her hand against a respected businessman. But he had goaded her into reacting. Hadn't he?
    Without missing a beat, Michael turned to the curious onlookers. “It's all right. Just a slight misunderstanding."
    One of the men nodded,