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anymore doesn’t mean I’m up to something.”
    God was going to get her for that lie. The day she had stopped watching the door for him, had decided to get a life, it was as though he had known. But instead of accepting what she felt for him, he had automatically assumed she was up to something.
    And perhaps she was. She had a life. A productive one. One that gave her purpose.
    He turned on her, crossing his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes as they went over her body. And she didn’t look bad; she knew she didn’t. She had worked hard over the last four years to make certain her body was in peak shape, that the clothes she wore enhanced her figure, and that the makeup enhanced her role. Though she was pretty certain the makeup had worn off when he’d pushed her face into the truck seat earlier.
    “What were you doing at Diva’s?” he demanded. “Dressed like that and flashing your body to every damned pervert there? And don’t lie to me, Morganna. I have friends there. I’ll find out the truth.”
    Now why didn’t that surprise her?
    “So asks the man that owns his own private room,” she snorted. “Clint, I know exactly how much those rooms cost per year. And it’s more than obvious you use it. Does that make you a pervert as well?” She arched her brow mockingly.
    “The worst kind.”
    Her breath slammed from her throat as his gaze became more intent, touching over the flesh bared by her clothing, reminding her of his touch, the dominance in his kiss.
    “Well, at least you’re honest,” she breathed out. “Now, if you’ll be so kind as to call me a cab . . .”
    “Explain the receiver.” Cold fury filled his lowered voice. He was no longer pissed; now he was dangerous.
    She arched her brow.
    “I’ll track it to the other side, Morganna. I’ll find out who’s on the other end and I’ll start by questioning that leather-toting Dom wannabe first. You want to see his pretty face messed up?”
    Could Craig take him in a fight? Morganna knew in a heartbeat he couldn’t. Clint had nearly killed him in the hallway earlier.
    She lifted her chin defiantly.
    “I don’t owe you explanations, Clint. I don’t owe you anything. Now I’m ready to go home.”
    “Now isn’t that just too bad,” he drawled, his expression shifting, lust mixing with the anger as he continued to watch her. “You know, Morganna, I have that room there for a reason. I don’t know who you think you’re playing with, but it’s not a fake Dom willing to let you play your little games. Is that what you were hoping for? That this game you’re playing would get you into my bed?”
    No. She didn’t. But the subtle throb of arousal in his voice had her sex clenching in response, her juices gathering, weeping from her aching vagina.
    This was a part of Clint she had never seen before. A part that filled her with trepidation and excitement.
    “And who says I’m going to end up in your bed?” She tried to forget how much she wanted to be there.
    Every cell in her body was throbbing in need. She remembered his kiss. One brief, possessive melding of lips when she had been eighteen and he was twenty-seven. His hands had held her to him, his lips had possessed her, and she had never forgotten it. Now, ten years later, she still remembered. She wanted his lips on her again, anywhere, everywhere.
    “Oh, you’re going to end up there,” he assured her smoothly. Morganna swallowed tightly.
    “Why now?” She had ached for him for years. Done everything she could think of to make him see her, make him want her. And now, when she had given up, he wanted to play sex games. Talk about lousy damned timing.
    The tight smile that creased his lips wasn’t comforting.
    “If I had known the games you liked, Morganna, I wouldn’t have denied myself. The submissive scene doesn’t cater to happily ever afters, does it, baby? Maybe you’re not the starry-eyed little dreamer I thought you were. There’s no room in my life for