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pushed him away. “I will concede I enjoyed the dream. But I’m not ready to accept there’s anything between us other than manipulation by an annoying dead shaman.”
    She was clearly as turned on as he was, but more in control. Then again, she’d been dealing with the mask for months, whereas he’d only had to deal with it for a few hours. And except for the jolt of pain right after the break-in, for the most part, the manipulation had been decidedly pleasant.
    How much of this was real now, and how much was the mask still pushing him?
    It struck him that maybe the intense attraction that colored every thought and reaction he had toward her wasn’t real. What if, without the mask’s intervention, he’d feel nothing?
    And what if, deep down, she felt nothing for him?  
    The idea left him cold. He huffed out a sigh. “Sorry. I’m not usually… such an ass. We need to talk about the mask and Chuck, and try to figure out if what’s happening to you—to us—is connected. And then we need to call the police and report the break-in.”
    She gave a short nod. “Agreed.” She plucked a pencil from the coffee table and held it between her teeth as she gathered her reddish locks from her neck and rolled them into a knot, which she secured with the pencil.
    The light shone on the fair skin of her slender neck, revealing a faint bruise, which he’d put there when he sucked on her sweet skin as he thrust inside her. Proof he had sucked on her neck, even though he hadn’t really been inside her.
    He stood and crossed the room, choosing a spot between the credenza, loaded with photos of Jana and Chuck, and the woodstove. He sat on the floor and leaned against the wall, facing her but no longer able to see the hickey, no longer close enough to smell her warm, sexy scent. “I’d better sit here so we can get through this conversation without me scooping you up and tossing you on the bed so I can fuck your brains out.”
    She flushed with heat, making him certain what he’d guessed in the dream was true. She was turned on by the word fuck when used that way. It was going to take all his willpower not to exploit that to talk her back into the bedroom.
    He had a feeling he’d never feel satisfied again if they didn’t finish that dream.

    “W e’ll start with the mask. I want you to tell me everything you know about it,” Rhys said, proving he could jump from sex to business in a single sentence, while Sienna was still trying to catch her breath.
    He sat not far from where he’d peeled off his shirt in the dream, making it impossible for her to ignore the fact that his T-shirt hugged broad, muscular shoulders. Hard to believe the guy was a lawyer. But then, he’d been in the army, and clearly, he’d taken good care of himself after leaving the service. His perfection made her feel even more self-conscious than usual about those ten… if she were being honest, fifteen… extra pounds she carried.
    Guys like him went for blondes with tiny waists and big breasts. Her breasts were okay—thanks to those extra pounds—but the rest of her was nothing a perfect ex-soldier-turned-attorney like him would be interested in. His interest in her was just proof the mask had warped his mind.
    “Sienna?” he asked.
    She shook her head. Right. Stay focused. He wanted to know about the mask. She glanced from the photos of Chuck—who was obviously a tribal member—back to Rhys’s striking blue eyes. “Are you part Itqaklut?” she asked.
    He shook his head. “No. Our fathers were brothers—sons of Welsh immigrants. Chuck’s mother was Itqaklut.”
    “Rhys is a Welsh name?”
    He nodded and cocked his head. “What about you? Where does the name Sienna come from?”
    She was tempted to tell him her real, full name. Hell, he knew her sexual fantasies; sharing the truth of her name was nothing compared to that. But she chickened out. “Hippy-dippy parents. Mom is an artist and archaeologist, Dad a botanist. I’m named for