I love you, Travis. Hold me, hold me."
"Juliana."
Travis Sawyer heard his own muffled shout as he shuddered
heavily over the flame-haired woman in his arms. The last
of his white-hot passion spent itself in a blinding,
driving storm of pure release. He lost himself in his
lover's arms, surrendering to her fire even as he exulted
in his victory. She clung to him with all her sleek
strength, drawing him into her until he felt as though
he'd stepped into another universe.
It had never been this good with anyone else. Travis
Sawyer was thirty-eight years old. He'd never been a
womanizer but he considered he'd lived long enough to make
the judgment. This was special. Nothing had ever been this
good before in his life.
It was everything he had instinctively sensed it would be
with this woman. Hot, wild, powerful. He had never felt so
alive, so strong. Satisfaction swept through him in the
wake of the slowly dissipating passion.
She was his now. Reluctantly he disengaged himself and
rolled to one side, his hand trailing heavily over the
gentle curve of Juliana's breast. She smiled up at him
from the pillow, the expression as dazzling as always,
even here in the darkness of her bedroom.
The thick, untamed mass of her hair was an elegant, pagan
crown framing her vivid features. Travis stared down at
her, captivated by huge, long-lashed eyes, a noble nose,
an arrogant, yet surprisingly delicate chin and a luscious
mouth. Her long leg slid between his in a languidly
sensual movement. Then she closed her eyes and snuggled
into his warmth.
He had done it, Travis thought triumphantly as his arm
tightened around her. He had claimed his redhaired, topaz-
eyed queen.
And then, in the next moment, reality settled back into
place around him. What the hell was he doing here, holding
her like this? He'd never intended to take his revenge
this far; never intended to wind up in bed with Juliana
Grant.
He stared deeply into the shadows of the bedroom,
searching for answers that weren't there. He felt dazed
now that the fiery passion had receded.
Vengeance led a man down strange paths. Juliana Grant had
been an unexpected detour in the long road he'd been
walking for the past five years. But he could not, would
not allow the detour, no matter how exotic, to deflect him
from his chosen course. He had come too far. There was no
turning back now, even if he wanted to do so.
Travis Sawyer was very good at what he did, and when he
had set out to orchestrate his revenge he had left no
loopholes. There was no escape for anyone, not even for
himself.
The clear, bright California sunshine danced across the
bay and slammed cheerfully through the condominium's
bedroom windows. Juliana opened her eyes slowly and
watched the early-spring light as it bounced around the
dramatic white-on-white room. It sparkled on the thick
white carpet, bounded off the white walls, struck the
chrome and white leather chair and tap-danced over the
gleaming white lacquer dressing table. It sizzled when it
struck the only color accent in the bedroom, an egg-yolk-
yellow abstract painting that hung on the wall over the
chrome and white bed.
Mesmerized, Juliana followed the trail of sunlight as it
ricocheted between the mirror and the painting and
splashed across the foaming white sheets of the rumpled
bed. There, in a final burst of dazzling brilliance, the
morning sun revealed the alien male being who had invaded
her room last night.
A man in her bed. That, in and of itself, was a rare
enough event to excite wonder and curiosity, but in this
case it was an even more notable occurrence. Juliana
hugged herself with her secret knowledge.
Because she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this
particular man โ this hard, lean, sexy man named Travis
Sawyer โ was the man. The right man. The one she'd been
waiting for all her life.
She savored the delicious secret and held herself very
still so as not to awaken the exotic creature lying next
to her. She wanted a moment to luxuriate in the thrilling
certainty that she had finally encountered her true mate.
He was not exactly as she had fondly imagined over the
years when she had indulged in a little harmless
fantasizing. He wasn't quite as tall as he should have
been, for one thing. She, herself, was just a sliver under
six feet and she had always envisioned her true mate as
being somewhere in the neighborhood of six feet, four
inches or so. Tall enough so that she could wear high
heels comfortably around him. Travis was barely an inch
over six feet. In two-inch heels she was eyeball to
eyeball with him. In two-and-a-half-inch heels she was
taller than he was.
But whatever he lacked in height, he more than compensated
for in build, Juliana assured herself cheerfully. Travis
was sleekly muscular and as solid as a chunk of granite.
Last night she had been in no doubt of his strength. The
masculine power in him had been totally controlled and all
the more exciting for that sense of control. This was a
man who exercised a sure command over himself, a man who
had learned the techniques of self-mastery. She admired
that kind of control in a man. It gave a woman a sense of
security โ an old-fashioned, primitive assurance that his
greater physical strength need never be feared but could
be relied upon for protection.
Travis did not quite match Juliana's inner image of her
perfect man in a few other minor respects, either. His
eyes were the wrong color. Juliana preferred sensual, warm
brown or hazel eyes in those of the male persuasion.
Travis had cool, crystal gray eyes that did not betray his
emotions except in the most intense situations. Last night
had been intense, however, she recalled with delight.
She'd seen the passion blazing in his eyes and it had sent
shivers of excitement through her.
This morning she was quite prepared to drop her old
standards regarding eye color in view of the fact that
Travis's eyes were not only capable of reflecting his
passion, but also an intelligence that complemented her
own and a rare sense of humor that delighted her when it
showed itself.
His hair was a bit off, too, unfortunately. It was a far
darker shade than she'd fantasized. Juliana had always
liked men with tawny-colored or blond hair, but she had to
admit that Travis's severely trimmed, night-black hair
seemed to suit him. The hint of silver at the temples was
not at all unattractive.
There were a few other minor discrepancies between the
real Travis Sawyer and Juliana's fantasy version of her
true mate. If she were inclined to be picky, for example,
she could have carped about the undeniable fact that his
rough, grim looks would probably forever keep him from
gracing the cover of Gentlemen's Quarterly magazine. Ah,
well, it was GQ"s loss, she told herself. He looked
perfect here in her bed.
Then, too, there was Travis's apparent total lack of
interest in style and clothes. She had known him for
almost one whole month now and she had never seen him in
anything but a pair of dark trousers, an austere white
shirt, a conservatively striped tie and wing-tip shoes.
His jackets were all muted shades of gray. But Juliana
figured she could fix the problem. After all, she had more
than enough style for both of them, she told herself. She
glanced at her closet and smiled as she pictured the rack
of expensive, high-fashion clothes and the boxes of shoes
inside. Shopping was high on her list of hobbies.
All in all, Juliana was more than willing to make
allowances for the few areas in which Travis Sawyer fell
short of her idealized image of Mr. Right. She was used to
working for what she wanted, and she was quite prepared to
put in whatever time and effort was required to polish her
very special diamond in the rough. Last night she had
received ample assurance that the effort would be worth
it. She still tingled from head to toe with the hot
memories.
Having finished her perusal, Juliana stretched slowly,
deliberately stroking one toe down the length of Travis's
muscular calf. When there was no response, she sighed and
accepted the fact that the man probably needed his sleep
after last night.
Juliana grinned with amused regret, pushed back the sheet
and got to her feet. She was mildly startled to discover
she ached pleasantly all over. Travis had been a demanding
as well as a bold and generous lover. He'd taken
everything he could get but he had given back passion with
equal intensity. If she closed her eyes she could still
feel his strong, sensitive hands on her this morning. She
felt as if she'd been imprinted with his touch.
Standing in the middle of her bright white room Juliana
allowed herself one last, fond gaze at the man in her bed
and then she headed for the bathroom with a long,
exuberant stride.
She would welcome her true mate with a proper display of
feminine domesticity, she decided. Might as well give the
man a little foretaste of the wonders that were in store
for him.
Half an hour later, showered, her mass of red curls caught
up in a dramatically cascading ponytail and dressed in a
pair of fashionably cut, high-waisted slacks and wide-
sleeved painter's shirt, Juliana made her way back into
the bedroom. She was carrying a black enameled tea tray.
Perched on the elegant tray was an art deco teapot and two
cunningly designed, bright red cups.
"Good morning." She smiled brilliantly when she saw that
Travis was awake. He sprawled on his back, watching her
through half-closed eyes.
"Good morning." His voice was husky with sleep and very
sexy.
"Beautiful day, isn't it? But, then, it always seems to be
beautiful here in Jewel Harbor. That's one of the things I
had trouble getting used to when I first moved here four
years ago. It's the perfect California seaside town, and
perfection always makes a person a little suspicious,
doesn't it?" Juliana busied herself with the tray.
"Even the fog, when it shows up, is different here than it
is anywhere else. Soft and romantic and eerie. You don't
take milk or sugar in your tea, do you?"
"Uh, no. No, I don't." Travis sat up slowly against the
pillows.
"Didn't think so. You're not the type."
"There's a type?" He watched her, as if deeply intrigued
by the whole process of pouring tea.
"Oh, definitely. But I knew you wouldn't be one of those."
She handed him a red cup. "Just as I knew the day you
walked into my shop that you drank just plain coffee, not
espresso or latte or cappuccino."
Seemingly bemused, he glanced down at the strong, dark tea
and then up to meet her expectant gaze. "No offense, but
it is a little surprising to discover that the queen of
the local coffee empire serves tea in bed."
Juliana laughed and helped herself to the second
cup. "I'll let you in on a little secret," she said as she
sat down in the white leather and chrome chair. "I really
don't like coffee, especially all those fancy French and
Italian variations I serve at the shop. The stuff upsets
my stomach."
Travis's mouth curved faintly. "I know most of your
secrets but you've hidden this one well. I would never
have guessed you're a closet tea drinker. What would the
patrons of Charisma Espresso say if they knew?"
"I don't intend for them to ever find out. Until, that is,
I get ready to open up a chain of tea shops."
Travis frowned, shaking his head in an automatic, negative
gesture. "Forget the idea of tea shops. Your goal is to
expand Charisma, remember? There are a lot more coffee
drinkers than tea drinkers around here."
"Never mind about my tea shop idea. I don't really want to
talk about it this morning, anyway." Juliana eyed him with
great interest. "Did you think you knew all my secrets
just because you've been looking into my business affairs
for the past couple of weeks?"
"Most of them." Travis shrugged, his bare, bronzed
shoulders moving with masculine grace against the white
satin pillow. "I'm a business consultant, remember? I'm
good at what I do. And I've learned that once you know
someone's financial secrets, you usually know all the rest
of his or her secrets, too."
"Sounds ominous." Juliana shuddered elegantly and took a
sip of her Darjeeling. "I'm glad that in our case there
are still a few surprises left. More fun that way, don't
you think?"
"Not all surprises are pleasant ones."
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