She glanced at a man leading another by a leash and grinned. Who would have thought she'd find such things tempting? Her trip to Dark Haven two weeks ago had opened her eyes in many ways.

And complicated her life. She frowned. Hoping to get that overbearing, commanding, overmuscled, gorgeous, man, dom, out of her thoughts, she'd gone on a flurry of dates. And each evening had been as exciting as giving a patient a bed bath.

Had just one taste of BDSM spoiled her for normal guys? The memory of how Master Simon's dark eyes had studied her as he cuffed her wrists sent a blast of heat through her like she'd sniffed a vial of pheromones.

Of course, the sights and sounds around her didn't help. She dodged an extremely tall man in a cat suit and cat mask, then a cluster of men in chain harnesses and jeans. Shrugging her canvas shopping bag to a comfortable position on her shoulder, she checked out the booths displaying garter belts, vinyl and latex clothing, and costumes. She wanted something exotic so she could blend in next time she went to Dark Haven. Maybe a sexy bustier?

She paused by a stall that sold sex toys. So many times she'd considered getting a vibrator, but it had seemed a kind of betrayal of Mark, no matter how flat their love life had grown. But now…

Several women clustered around the stall, decreasing her feeling of being conspicuous. Look, Rona's going to buy a vibrator! Edging to the front, she studied the offerings. Where to start? Dildos ranged from tiny— why would anyone use something the size of a finger?—to a terrifying one that resembled a foot-long mushroom and made her vagina cringe, if such a thing were possible.

Then she noticed the vibrator section. Oh yes. Right off her fantasy list—which had grown remarkably after her club visit. Tiny balls to go inside. Nah. Some the size and shape of a real cock. Her finger tapped her lips. Too bland. She spotted one that could be used in both orifices. Her butt constricted at the thought, but…

Hmm… Next to it lay a combination dildo-and-clit vibrator, and her bottom actually wiggled at the idea. She started to reach for it…

A hand pressed against her lower back, and a deep, smooth voice murmured in her ear, “I'm going to get the wrong impression of you if we keep meeting in these types of venues.”

She caught the scent of sensuously rich cologne before she jerked around and stared up into dark eyes that glinted with amusement. “Ma—Simon.”

“Ah. I haven't been forgotten completely.”

When he stroked a finger down her cheek, her insides quivered as if the fabled San Francisco quake had started. Nice trick, that. She doubted if even the fancy vibrators in the booth could achieve such an effect. “What are you doing here?”

“Some friends are giving a demonstration of suspension bondage.” He glanced at his watch. “I have fifteen minutes free. May I join you?”

Oh yes. Then her brain kicked in. Oh no.

He shook his head. “So divided.” Lifting a finger, he attracted the attention of the booth owner, picked up the combination vibrator, and handed her some money.

Rona eyed the device. A guy wouldn't use something like that, would he? No.

So he'd bought it for a girlfriend or… “Are you married?”

When he cocked an eyebrow at her blunt question, she sighed. At work, she'd been described as confident and articulate, yet in his presence, she tripped over her tongue like a verbal spastic.

“No, I'm not married, lass. Or in any relationship whatsoever.”

Wasn't he going to ask her that question in return? Her mouth turned down.

Didn't he want to know?

Smiling, he lifted her hand and tapped the fading mark on her ring finger where her wedding band had been. “I don't need to ask, lass. And you're too honest to scene with me if you were involved.”

“Both telepathy and X-ray vision, huh?”

He chuckled. “I've been a dom for quite a while. Eventually you learn to use your eyes.”

As the seller counted out his change, a shriek split through the noise of the crowd. Rona turned.

Near the center of the street, two brawling, red-faced men had knocked an older lady to her knees. As “fuck yous” filled the air, they tried to tear each other apart, heedless of their victim.

Worse than Saturday night in the ER. Growling in disgust, Rona dodged around the men to get to the woman. Slinging an arm around the frail waist, Rona pulled her up and out of the battle zone. Looking over her shoulder to make sure she'd gone far enough, Rona gaped.

Standing between the two men, Simon had stopped the fight. For a second.

Then one swore and lunged around Simon to attack the other.

Shaking his head, Simon shoved up his sleeves, stepped forward, and…

Rona blinked. His fists had moved too fast to follow, but now one man lay moaning on the ground, arms wrapped around his stomach. Simon had the other on his knees, his hand clamped in the man's hair. From the way the jerk's arm dangled, his shoulder was dislocated.

With a tiny quiver, Rona recognized the stern set to Simon's jaw as he talked to the brawler in a low voice. When he stepped back, the brawler scrambled to his feet and fled through the gathered crowd.

Simon dragged the other one to a sitting position. After saying a few words, he hauled the guy to his feet and shoved him on his way. Apparently oblivious to the scattered applause from the crowd, Simon rolled down his sleeves and retrieved his purchase.

When he joined Rona, his intent gaze scrutinized her, top to bottom, before he turned to the old woman. “Are you all right, ma'am?”

“I am now.” The lady smiled at him. “You did a fine job there. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

“Well, I need to move along. I still have to get a present for Henry.” The woman brushed the dirt from her lavender sweats and frowned at the rip in one knee. “Our fortieth anniversary is tomorrow, and we buy each other a treat every year.” She nodded at Simon, patted Rona's shoulder in thanks, and walked toward the toy booth.

Rona stared. The treat for Henry was a sex toy? After forty years of marriage?

Damn.

Simon huffed a laugh, then wrapped an arm around Rona's waist. “Come, lass.”

“Where'd you learn to fight like that?”

He steered her down the street. “Military, then the martial-arts circuit for a time. I quit when my son arrived.” He lifted his left hand, tried to curl the fingers, and smiled ruefully. “I fear I hit a few too many solid objects before then.”

Frowning, Rona took his hand. White scars from old surgeries traced over his skin; the bones underneath felt rough and uneven. “You must have broken every…”

She looked up guiltily, let go, and put her hands behind her back. Bad Rona. Hadn't she already learned that grabbing a dom was a no-no? “Sorry.”

His flashing smile lightened his face. “True, a submissive doesn't touch without permission.” When he grasped her hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles, the suggestive caress sent a tingle through her. “But I enjoy having your hands on me too much to object. For now.”

“For now?”

He threaded his fingers into her hair and tugged her head back, forcing her to look up at him. “I think, eventually, I will enjoy reprimanding you just as much.

Your ass turns such a pretty pink.”

Before she could speak, he gave her a hard kiss and released her.

She stared at him, the sheer heat his words had engendered burning away any sarcastic response.

Smiling, he took her hand and started walking again. “The stage is down this way.”

“Simon. We're not dating.”

“We will.” He ran his thumb over her lower lip, and the carnal look in his eyes dried up all the saliva in her mouth.

She looked away, concentrating on her walking. I'm not attracted. Really. And that's like claiming that Lois Lane never really wanted Superman. Nonetheless, remember rules one and two from the goals list. “Simon. I appreciate the trouble you've taken, but I'm not interested in…in anything more.”

She winced at the thoughtful look in his eyes. Despite the noisy crowd and the brightly colored booths, all his attention was now focused on her, nowhere else, with an unsettling concentration.

“You're attracted to me,” he said so confidently that she glanced down to see if she wore a sign saying I WANT YOU. “And you're not involved a relationship.

So…?”

Obstinate, wasn't he? “I was married for twenty years. The last few years, we just tolerated each other until our children left the nest, and when they did, we got a divorce. I promised myself I'd never get trapped like that again.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Being married…” It had been like wading through a dark swamp, unable to find a way out. “I have a new life. I'm free to explore and experience everything I missed. That includes a variety of men.”

“Ah.”


Obstinate, wasn't she? Simon shook his head.

She lifted her stubborn chin and lengthened her stride, as if she could shake him so easily. She couldn't. Not after the way his body and heart had leaped when he'd seen her in the crowd. He stepped around a bare-chested gay couple dancing to Combichrist and rejoined her.

Unfortunately, he understood how escaping a cage might make a woman wary about being caught again. It would take some clever bread crumbs to lure her closer.

And he wanted her closer. Even if he disregarded that unexpected connection from before, she attracted him. She'd helped his son at the riot and rescued the old woman with no hysterics or screaming, just compassion and practicality. And she could have claimed involvement with someone but hadn't. She might not share her emotions freely, but what she shared would be honest. And that was as unusual as it was appealing.