“Agencies? Are you talking about whorehouses?”

Each time she heard that repellent word it stung a bit more. “The politically correct term is ‘pleasure agency.’ ” She paused. Her head felt as if it were floating off her shoulders. “Just as prostitutes are better referred to as sexual pleasure providers or SPPs.”

“SPPs? You sure are a reg’lar encyclopedia.”

It was curious, but his accent seemed to be growing thicker by the minute. It must be the liquor. Thank goodness he was too dull-witted to realize how outlandish this conversation had become. “We have slide shows and guest lecturers who discuss their various specialties with us.”

“Like what?”

Her mind raced. “Uh… Role playing, for example.”

“What kind of role playing?”

What kind, indeed? Her mind shuffled through various scenarios, searching for one that didn’t involve physical pain or degradation. “Well, we have something we call Prince Charming and Cinderella.”

“What’s that like?”

“It involves… roses. Making love on a bed of rose petals.”

“Sounds a little too girly to appeal to me. You got anything spicier to offer?”

Why had she mentioned role playing? “Of course, but since you’re my first customer, I think I can give you more value if we stick to the basics.”

“Missionary stuff?”

She gulped. “My current specialty.” He didn’t look too excited by the prospect, although his face showed so little expression, it was hard to tell. “That, or-I think I might have a talent for being the-uh-the partner on top.”

“Well, I guess you’ve just about overcome my prejudice against hookers.”

“Sexual pleasure providers.”

“Whatever. But the thing of it is, you’re a little old for me.”

Old! That reallyfrosted her. He was thirty-six, but he had the nerve to regard a woman of twenty-four as old! Maybe it was her floating head, but the fact that she wasn’t really twenty-four no longer made a difference. It was the principle that counted.

She mustered a look of sympathy. “I’m sorry, I must have misunderstood. I assumed you were able to handle a grown woman.”

Whatever he was swallowing went down the wrong pipe and he choked.

Feeling decidedly malicious, she gestured toward his telephone. “Would you like me to call the office and have them send out Punkin’? If she has her homework done, she should be available.”

He stopped coughing long enough to level her with a sonic blast from those eyes.“You’re not twenty-four. Both of us know you’re not a day under twenty-eight. Now go ahead and show me what you learned from those training films about warm-up activities. If you catch my interest, maybe I’ll reconsider.”

More than anything, she wanted to tell him to go to hell, but she wouldn’t let her indignation, no matter how justified it might be, keep her from her goal. How could she entice him? She hadn’t given any consideration to foreplay, assuming he would simply get on top of her, perform the deed, and roll off the way Craig had done it.

“What kind of warm-up activities have you preferred in the past?”

“Did you bring any Reddi Whip with you?”

She could feel herself blushing. “No, I didn’t.”

“How’bout handcuffs?”

“No!”

“Dang. I guess it really don’t matter then. I’m open-minded.” He lowered himself into the room’s largest armchair and waved a hand vaguely in her direction. “You go on there, Rosebud, and-whadyacall-improvise. I’ll prob’ly like whatever you come up with.”

Maybe she could do a seductive dance for him. She was a good dancer in private, but in public she tended to be awkward and self-conscious. Perhaps she could do a routine from one of her aerobics classes, although between her demanding work schedule and the fact that she preferred brisk walking as an exercise form, she usually dropped out before the session was over. “If you’d like to put on some of your favorite music…”

“Sure.”He got up and walked over to the stereo cabinet. “I think I might have some highbrow stuff. I bet a SPS such as yourself loves longhair music.”

“SPP.”

“Isn’t that what I said?” He slipped a compact disc into the machine, and as he resumed his seat, the living room was filled with the lively music of Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Flight of the Bumblebee.” A piece with such a frenzied tempo was hardly her idea of seductive music, but what did she know?

She performed a few shoulder rolls from the warm-up part of her aerobics class and tried to look sultry, but the quick pace of the music made it difficult. Still, the chemicals surging through her bloodstream spurred her on. She added some side stretches, ten on the right and then ten on the left so she wouldn’t get lopsided.

Her hair brushed her cheeks as she moved in a manner that she could only hope was alluring, but as he watched her with those scorched-earth eyes, she couldn’t see any evidence that he was getting swept away with lust. She thought about touching her toes, but that didn’t seem like a very graceful dance movement. Besides, she couldn’t reach them without bending her knees. Inspiration struck.

One. Two. Three. Kick!

One. Two. Three. Kick!

He crossed his legs and yawned.

She experimented with a small hula routine.

He glanced at his watch.

It was hopeless. She stopped and let the bumblebee fly on without her.

“And here I was waitin’ for you to get to the jumpin’ jacks part.”

“I don’t dance well with people watching.”

“Guess you should have spent a little more time with them training videos. Or a couple of old John Travolta movies.” He got up and walked over to lower the volume on the music. “Can I be honest with you here, Rosebud?”

“Please.”

“You’re not turnin’ me on.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.“Let me give you a little extra for your time.”

She could barely resist the urge to cry, despite the fact that she wasn’t a crier by nature. He was going to kick her out, and she would have lost her best chance to have the child of her dreams. Desperation made her voice husky.“Please, Mr. Bonner. You can’t dismiss me.”

“I sure can.”

“You’ll… You’ll get me fired. The Stars’ account is a very important one to my agency.”

“If it’s so damned important, why did they send you? Anybody can see you don’t know diddly about being a hooker.”

“There’s a-a convention in town. They were shorthanded.”

“So what you’re sayin’ is… I ended up with you by default.”

She nodded. “And if they find out you weren’t satisfied with my services, they’ll fire me. Please, Mr. Bonner, I need this job. If they dismiss me, I’ll lose my benefits.”

“You get benefits?”

If prostitutes didn’t get benefits, they certainly should. “They have an excellent dental plan, and I’m scheduled for a root canal. Couldn’t we…Couldn’t we just go into the bedroom?”

“I don’t know, Rosebud…”

“Please!”With a sense of desperation, she snatched up his hands. Squeezing her eyes shut, she pulled them to her breasts and held them there, palms flat.

“Rosebud?”

“Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“Letting you… feel my breasts.”

“Uh-huh.”His hands remained still. “Did any of those training videos suggest you take off your clothes first?”

“The jacket’s very thin, so I’m sure it doesn’t make any difference. As I’m certain you can tell, I don’t have anything on under it.”

The heat from his palms burned through the fragile silk into her skin. She didn’t let herself imagine what those hands would feel like without the tissue-thin barrier. “You may move your hands on them if you like.”

“I appreciate the offer, but- You plannin’ on openin’ your eyes anytime soon?”

She’d forgotten they were shut, and she quickly raised her lids.

It was a mistake. He was standing so near that she had to tilt her neck to gaze at him. From such close range, his features had blurred, but not quite enough to hide the fact that his mouth looked even harder than she’d first thought. She saw a small scar on the side of his chin, another near his hairline. He was all muscle and steel. There wasn’t a playground bully on this planet who’d have the nerve to torment this man’s child.

That’s my swing, geek face! Get off it or I’ll punch you.

Brainy Janie’s got cooties… Brainy Janie’s got cooties…

“Please. Couldn’t we just go to your bedroom?”

She loosened her hands, and he slowly released her breasts. “You really want this bad, don’t you, Rosebud?”

She nodded.

He gazed at her, and his warrior’s eyes revealed none of his thoughts.

“I’m bought and paid for,” she reminded him.

“That’s right. You are.” He seemed to be mulling it over. She waited patiently, giving his sluggish brain all the time it needed to work.

“Why don’t you just go back to your employer and say we did the dirty.”

“I have a very transparent face. It would immediately be apparent that I was lying.”

“There doesn’t seem to be any other way out of this, then, does there?”

Her hopes began to soar. “I’m afraid not.”

“All right, Rosebud; you win. I guess we’d better head on upstairs.” He slipped his index finger under the pink ribbon. “You sure you didn’t bring any handcuffs with you?”

She felt her throat move against his finger as she swallowed. “I’m sure.”

“Let’s get it over with, then.”

He tugged on the ribbon as if it were a dog collar. Her heart thudded as he led her out into the foyer and up the carpeted steps without releasing her. The side of her body brushed against his. She tried to move away, but he held her captive.

As they climbed the stairs, she regarded him through the corners of her eyes with apprehension. She knew it was only her imagination, but he seemed to have grown taller and bigger. Her gaze swept from his chest to his hips, and her eyes widened. Unless she was mistaken, he wasn’t quite as detached as he seemed. Beneath those jeans he seemed to be fully aroused.

“In here, Rosebud.”

She stumbled as he drew her through the doorway into the master bedroom, still trying to figure out how someone as inept as she had managed to excite him. She reminded herself that she was female, and he had a caveman mentality. In his drunken state, he must have decided that any woman would do. She should be grateful he was dragging her into his cave by the ribbon instead of her hair.

He flipped a switch. Recessed lighting illuminated a king-size bed made up with blankets, but no comforter. It sat opposite a wall that held a row of windows covered with plantation shutters. There was a chest of drawers, a comfortable chair, a set of bedside tables, but very little clutter.

He released her ribbon and turned away to shut the door. She gulped as he twisted the lock. “What are you doing?”

“Some of my buddies have the key to this place. I’m guessin’ you’d just as soon we didn’t have any company. ’Course if I’m wrong…”

“No, no. You’re not wrong.”

“You sure? Some PSSs specialize in groups.”

“SPPs. And those are level threes. I’m only a level one. Could we turn out the lights, please?”

“How am I going to see you if we do that?”

“There’s quite a bit of moonlight coming in through those shutters. I’m certain you’ll be able to see just fine. And it’ll be more mysterious that way.”

Without waiting for permission, she made a dash for the light switch and flicked it off. The room was immediately bathed in the wide bars of moonlight slipping through the shutters.

He walked over to the bed and turned his back to her. She watched him draw his knit polo shirt over his head. The muscles of his shoulders rippled as he tossed it aside. “You can put your clothes on that chair there.”

Her knees trembled as she walked toward the chair he had indicated. Now that the moment of reckoning had come, she was nearly paralyzed with a fear that even narcotics couldn’t quite overcome. It had been one thing to plan this encounter in the abstract, but it was quite another to face the reality of having sex with a stranger. “Maybe you’d like to talk a bit first. Get to know each other a little better.”

“I lost interest in talking when we walked through that bedroom door.”

“I see.”

His shoes hit the floor. “Rosebud?”

“Yes?”

“Leave the bow on.”

She clutched the back of the chair for support.

He turned to her and, with a flick of his fingers, opened the button on his jeans. Bars of moonlight fell across his naked chest and down over his hips. His arousal was so pronounced she couldn’t tear her eyes away from it. Had she done that?

He spoiled her view by sitting on the edge of the bed to pull off his socks. His bare feet were straight and narrow, much longer than Craig’s had been. So far everything about him was larger than Craig. She took a long, steadying breath and slipped out of her heels.