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himself for asking, but he did it anyway, “And did you sleep with any of them?”
    The question had her coughing – practically choking – until she took a long swig of ice water with lemon. The bright red hue was back again with a vengeance, and her answer startled him. “I don’t know if that’s any of your business, Mr. Striker.”
    One dark eyebrow shot up. “Oh, so I’m back to Mr. Striker, now, am I, because of that question?”
    “It was an impertinent question,” she said by way of explanation.
    “And I am an impertinent man, Miss Johnson,” he replied quickly, an unrepentant grin on his face. She’d returned to eating when he continued, “Regardless, I want an answer to my question.”
    First his sister became her mother, now he was sounding exactly like her father. Only her father would have been much louder – but not quite yelling – by now. He was a man who was used to being instantly obeyed – especially by his daughters, and she was beginning to think that the man in front of her wasn’t all that far off. There was no mistaking his air of command.
    But, unlike her father, Brandt didn’t even look somewhat ruffled that she hadn’t instantly complied with his demand. Determined, yes, but calm and steady at the same time, as if he knew he would get his answer one way or the other.
    In the not too distant past, she would already have been out the door and halfway home at such an intimate question from a man who was still a relative stranger. But she was learning – mostly from Marielle’s example – not to back down so easily. “What do you feel entitles you to such sensitive information, Mr. Striker?” she asked, popping the last pieces of wonderfully tender fillet, as well as a pile of grilled peppers and a bit of rice into her mouth, chewing it while she watched him.
    His grin had broadened into a smile, but he didn’t necessarily look happy, and she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.
    Brandt figured he didn’t have much to lose, so he told her exactly why he expected her to answer his question. “Because I intend to make love to you myself, Miss Johnson.”
    He ended up having to get out of his chair and slap her – hard on the back between her shoulder blades – so that she wouldn’t choke to death. As he sat down, he urged her to take her water glass that he was offering and told her to take several sips, which she did automatically, both because she needed to and in response to the tone of his voice.
    “I can elaborate, if you like,” he offered, watching her carefully. He couldn’t tell if her red face was because she’d choked or he’d outraged her sensibilities.
    “No, please. I get the idea.”
    “Knowing what I know about you, I doubt you do, but I’ll let it go for now.” The waitress – who only had eyes for him – came and took their plates while Brandt waved her away, saying, “Don’t come back until I call for you.”
    Then he leaned forward and took both of her hands in his, no more than that, not letting her reclaim her fingers no matter how hard she tugged. “Stop struggling. I’m not going to hurt you, and I’m not going to molest you here, in front of a crowd. The first time I touch you, I want you to be as relaxed as I can possibly manage, so it won’t be in public.”
    “Thanks, I think.” She was just learning sarcasm, and thought she got just the right inflection. He was a bounder – he’d already decided that he was going to make love to her, and that was that. Lita hadn’t left a patriarchal society where women had very little choice just to join one man’s fiefdom and assume the role of serf to his lord, and she told him as much.
    But that had just made him laugh, and she still didn’t have possession of her own hands. “Honey, when we get to that point, I promise you, you will have all of the power. Every single bit of it. You already do, although you’re so wrapped up in the quirks of your upbringing that you can’t see