MINE UNTIL DAWN-EXCERPT:   Jade eased her car into an empty parking space outside the Palace and switched off the engine. A groan escaped her when she caught a glimpse of the time. Three minutes late and counting. That was what she got for taking a little extra time to deck her body and paint herself like a geisha. Granted she had a party to go to after their meeting. Still, to make Vince Knight choke on his words would be an added bonus. I haven’t changed, my butt. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and studied her face in the rear view mirror. The make-up and pinned-up hair with a few tendrils framing her face couldn’t be labeled overkill. She tilted the mirror to check the enticing valley created by the black bustier she’d worn under her matching spaghetti-strapped dress. Now that sight could be classified as a look-and-drool display. Jade picked up her black purse and sheer shawl then stepped out of her car and locked it. She smoothed the silk dress down over her hips. A chuckle escaped her. Her behind had its own agenda and continued to resist any attempts to slim it down, but she was learning to live with it. Jade took several steps, glanced down and grimaced. Six-inches of pure hell. She was a sucker for beautiful shoes, but the look on Vince’s face when he saw her in them would be worth it. Two men exited the hotel as she approached the entrance and froze at seeing her, eyes wide with appreciation. A drawn out ‘damn’ brought a quick smile to her lips. That was all the encouragement she needed to work the black drop-waist dress with asymmetrical hem. Her senses thrummed with anticipation as she glided through the hotel doors. Jade gave the busy foyer a sweeping glance. When her gaze locked on Vince, her heart started a rickety shuffle and her stomach tilted. This was bad. She wasn’t within sniffing distance of the man and her body was already betraying her. Even in plain jeans and a T-shirt, he stood out. She studied his tall, built body as he leaned against the front desk. His tanned skin contrasted with his white T-shirt in an attractive way, his teeth flashing as he spoke with one of the managers. It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t even her type. She avoided the silent, brooding, emotionally unavailable types like the plague. They were too difficult to understand and complicated. On the other hand, where had an outgoing man gotten her? A bad marriage and doubts about her sensuality. As though he felt her gaze, Vince turned. She stopped breathing, a stupid thing to do but what else could she do when his heated gaze locked on her. He gave her a slow appraisal, his gaze lingering on her chest before colliding with hers. Expression on his face? Cool. Unimpressed. (OH NO, YOU FOUND IT)   Air left her lungs in an unsteady rush. She twisted her lips into what she hoped resembled a smile as she started across the room. All that time spent putting her war paint on wasted. How could he maintain that stone-cold soberness all the time? Vince had to be made of ice, and served her right for trying to get a rise out of him. Maybe that was the problem. His rigid control and aloofness made her want to do or say something to rattle his cage. His lack of interest in her was a definite challenge. Maybe there was some truth to the lure of the unattainable. Vince Knight, without trying, fascinated her. Vince approached with the loose-hipped predatory stride of a jungle cat, sending a whoosh of anticipation through her. Feeling a little light-headed, Jade hoped she didn’t totter on her high stilettos. “Sorry, I’m late,” she said, hating the breathlessness in her voice. “No problem. You’re here now.” He gave her another cool once-over without making a comment and lifted a duffel bag she didn’t notice he was carrying. “I need to show you something.” Her gaze moved from the bag to his face. “What is it? “Let’s find a place to sit first.” His dark gaze swept the foyer as though cataloguing faces. She wasn’t sure whether it was caution or paranoia. She trailed his gaze. “Is everything okay?” “No.” The calm way he said it sent a chill up her spine. She opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong, reconsidered and closed it. She’d better get this meeting over with and leave. Jade allowed him to take her arm and direct her toward the Feng Shui restaurant and lobby. His hand played havoc with her senses. She felt warmth all the way to her bones. A group of women coming toward them propelled her closer to him until only a few inches separated them. The heat from his body seeped into her skin, making her shiver. His scent, musk and spearmint, slammed into her. Her mind went foggy. “Do you live here in L.A.?” she asked to stop herself from doing something stupid like burying her nose in the hollow of his neck. “No, Orcas Island. I’m only here to find the statue, then I’m heading right back.” He was so sure he would find it. Such confidence was daunting, and she had to admit, a turn-on. They walked past a poster with ‘ISWS-International Society of Women Scientists’ printed on it. “How long have you been in town?” “Five days. Why?” “Just wondering.” Keep him talking. Maybe then she’d turn off the faucet on the raw sexual longing sneaking in on her. “Who have you spoken with? Where have you looked? Stolen artifacts are moved so fast that….” Her voice trailed off when he stopped. He looked down at her and she blinked. The man’s penetrating eyes seemed to see right through her outer trappings and straight to the real her—a women rebuilding her life after a humiliating marriage. She swallowed and copped an irritation. “What?” “Can we sit down first before you start questioning me?” “We only have thirty minutes, remember?” Not that she had any intention of leaving until all her questions were answered. His gaze slid across her face and dropped to her breasts. “A lot can be accomplished in thirty minutes.” Heat crawled up her neck, flaming her cheeks and ears. The rotten scoundrel. If she were bold enough, she would have given him a thorough meat-market perusal and linger on his fly. Rule Number Five in Get Some Kick-ass Attitude—if you can’t take action, say it. “Especially when a person knows what she likes and how she likes it,” she answered and his gaze snapped back to hers. “Much better. I wasn’t sure whether you were talking to me or my girls here.” She pointed at her chest. No reaction. Not even a flicker of irritation or amusement. She was impressed. In high school, he’d been a charmer. His smile alone would coax girls into the backseat of his car. What happened? Who stole his smile?     S SLOW BURN-EXCERPT: “Ashley Fitzgerald?” “You’re late,” she said in a cool, impatient voice. He raised an eyebrow. “I am?” She thrust a delicate wrist under his nose. Her gold watch caught the overhead light and sparkled. “It’s after nine-thirty. You were due an hour ago.” Her feminine scent drifted to his nose. Something flowery. Roses? He frowned, annoyed with himself for letting his mind wander. He cleared his throat, readying himself to explain his present. “I believe you’ve mis—” “Never mind,” she said, took a step back, and with her other hand clutching a cell phone, gestured him into the loft. “You’re here now. Come in.” She was obviously mistaking him for someone else. But after the obstacles he’d encountered in the past two weeks, he’d be a fool not to take the advantage of the situation. Being invited inside her home was one step closer to achieving his goal. “Thank you.” He flashed a grin as he strode into the loft. “What’s your name?” she asked, closing the door. “Ron.” “Make yourself comfortable, Ron.” She waved in the direction of a leather lounge. “I’m on the phone. I’ll be with you in a sec.” He watched her sashay towards the kitchen, the phone at her ear, and found himself enjoying the way the silk one-piece outfit shifted and flowed around her curves. Ron tore his gaze away, shook his head to rattle his brain back in place and grimaced. He needed to get a grip, quick. He couldn’t afford to be distracted. Ashley knew a lot, but from the stubborn gleam he’d glimpsed in those eyes, she wasn’t going to roll over and spill her gut just because he asked. The smell of freshly brewed coffee pulled him farther into the room. He took a deep breath and looked around with interest. The sheer numbers of cloth-draped canvases along the walls combined with the effect of the light pouring inside the loft from large windows were startling. He wished he could see some of the pieces. The ones he’d seen around town, including the two his grandmother owned, were truly magnificent. A piece on the easel drew his attention. It was facing backward, but something about it pulled him closer. He tilted it for a better look and sucked in his breath. Carlyle House was unmistakable. Its massive front door was missing, flames leapt from every window and a face…no, a pair of large eyes watched from the smoke billowing over the turrets. “Excuse me. What do you think you’re doing?” He let the canvas go, backed away from the painting and shifted his gaze to meet hers. Her hand was on her hip, drawing his attention to its enticing curve, and her hazel eyes smoldered. He’d be damned if he didn’t admit she looked glorious.  “I apologize. I shouldn’t have looked at your work without asking you first.” He waited, his gut tightening with each second that passed. Way to go, Noble. Now she’ll kick you out, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself. He gave her an apologetic smile. She looked ready to read him the riot act. Then the anger seemed to drain out of her. She leaned against the counter and let out a long breath. “There’re two things I will not tolerate from a model—tardiness and peeking at my work.” Her voice was firm, but neither rude nor angry. “Dee told me you’ve done this before, so undress there.” She pointed at a partitioned area in the corner. “Since you were late, I’ll just do a few shots. We’ll start with upper torso, so the shirt goes and the pants stay for the moment. If you want to listen to music, I have classical, jazz, rock…whatever you wish. We’ll work there.” With a nod, she indicated the black leather chaise lounge near a window and the easel. “If we have time, I’d like shots of you in briefs. What?” “Briefs?” Ashley ignored his incredulous expression. Why had her request for a mature male model been filled with this six-foot mass of male arrogance? Beautiful to look at but trouble to work with. Dee already apologized for the man’s tardiness during their brief telephone conversation, but swore he was a joy to work with. Yeah, right. “Yes, briefs.” She pushed off the counter and approached him, taking in his sun-kissed skin, which screamed outdoorsman. But the combination of Monet’s cobalt blue eyes and short-cropped hair the color of midnight was more suited for a corporate office with a view. He was a contradiction, and her fingers longed to pick up a paint brush and immortalize him on canvas. Slowly, she circled him, eyeing his tall, well-built body from every angle, wondering if he was tanned all over. The black T-shirt and blue jeans didn’t do much to hide the lean muscles beneath. She wasn’t into men with facial hair, but the shadowing on his jaw contrasted with his golden skin and gave him a sexy, rakish look. A tattoo of something was partially visible on his upper left arm. Did he have more on his torso? Not that it mattered. She easily imagined him with nothing on but a red, silk sheet draped across his hips. With her paintbrush, she could turn him into every woman’s fantasy. She smiled at her thoughts. But that was for later, now she wanted him in briefs. No boxers or cutoffs. Just briefs. The smaller and tighter the better.  “I hope that’s not going to be a problem because later, I’ll need nude shots.” Her smile deepened. “Lots of them.” “I have no problem with being nude.” He turned until they were facing each other. A quirky grin played on his sensuous lips. “I just don’t strip for money.” “But—” “I’ll do it for free, if I know the lady.” Blue eyes twinkled above arched eyebrows. “I don’t know you…yet.” She smothered a groan. “Look. Dee told me you were a pro and pros know the rules. No personal remarks or cheap come-ons. And FYI, buddy, I’m not interested in you knowing me, I just want your body.” The corner of his lips lifted and her cheeks warmed. “Uh, I mean I want to use it.” When he crossed his arms and continued to grin, Ashley sighed. “You know what I mean. Be nice. Take off your shirt.” She needed coffee, now. Maybe she would offer him some later, if he behaved. Right now, she was too bothered even to look at him. Dee was so dead for doing this to her. A professional indeed. He was a menace. Ashley turned and marched toward the kitchen. “Who’s Dee?” Ron asked from behind her. “What?” Ashley stopped and spun around. “Deirdre Packard, the owner of Dee’s Artistic Expressions. Aren’t you the model she sent?” He smiled. “No. I’m not a male model, but thanks for the compliment.” He moved to stand in front of her, the smile disappearing from his lips and his eyes growing serious. “I’m here to see you about an entirely different matter.