Receptionist married a wealthy man only to divorce him. The guy had probably owned the condo before she took it and everything else the poor bastard had. She sure as fuck wasn’t paying the mortgage on her salary. “Bet you didn’t have a friendly divorce, did you?”

Even as she flinched, she averted her gaze, confirming his suspicions.

Goddamn women. The guy probably worked his ass off; then wifey decided she was entitled to everything he’d earned. “Sorry, Mr. deVries, your account is overdrawn.” He’d never forget the bank teller’s voice when he’d asked why his debit card hadn’t worked. A decade later, the memory still kicked him in the gut. Nothing like having a “loving” wife clean out the account while he served his country in hell. Yeah, thanks, Tamara.

He inhaled deliberately and tried to control his temper.

“Um. More coffee?” Lindsey ventured, lifting the pot.

Such big brown eyes. He felt as if he’d kicked a puppy. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she hadn’t cleaned the guy out. “I guess your ex is living in ritzy shit like this too?”

The coffeepot thumped onto the table as she paled. He saw guilt on her face, plain as hell.

He didn’t need an answer. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I got to be going.”

She rose as he did, silently watched him retrieve his toy bag and electro-case.

When he glanced at her, she took a step back, and her arms wrapped around her torso. All big eyes, innocent as a baby. Damned if she wasn’t even smoother than his ex. Lindsey’s poor bastard of a husband probably hadn’t seen the viper beneath that smooth skin until the poison flooded his veins.

He yanked open the apartment door.

“DeVries?” Even her voice sounded sweet.

Made him want to puke. Before the door closed behind him, he looked back. “Debt’s paid.”


LINDSEY FELT HER knees buckle. She dropped down into the chair, staring at nothing.

What did I do? Everything had been going fine. Last night, he’d actually smiled at her a couple of times. The sex had been rough, yet somehow gentle. He’d even kissed her as if he liked her. Not sexual kisses—friendly ones.

Yet the minute she’d told him what she did, he’d turned all cold. And his face… He looked at her as if she was a-a slut or something.

Her heart was shriveling up like a winter-blasted weed.

What had gotten his panties all in a wad? Because he didn’t like her job or didn’t approve of divorce? Seriously?

Indignation flickered to life, attempting to overcome the empty feeling inside her. What a jerk. He’d deliberately made her feel like a whore. “Debt’s paid.”

Well, he’d sure gotten everything she’d owed him. Her face heated as she remembered what all she’d let him do. How crazy he’d driven her. She’d let him face-fuck her. Take her anally. Laugh at her and call her greedy.

Now he acted as if she was a slut. Her lips trembled.

I’m not a whore.

He’d used her like a whore, hadn’t he? When would she learn?

Miguel hadn’t desired her—he’d needed to marry her so he could get a green card. Victor had wanted her ranchland that bordered Mexico, not her. She drew in a shaky breath.

She’d thought maybe here, away from everything, she could get herself back together. Dark Haven had been a refuge, a place to swim free, to rediscover who she was.

At least until now.

She drew the robe tighter, covering her legs. Maybe she had acted like a slut. After all, she’d known her time with deVries would be a one-night stand. Just sex.

She’d told herself it was okay for a girl to have fun as the men did, without obligation or guilt. Surely no one in the lifestyle would disagree.

But to find out deVries hadn’t even liked her when he…fucked…her. As with her husbands, she’d been something to be used. And once he’d finished, he’d tossed her away like garbage.

Her hand shook as she forced herself to drink the coffee. He was wrong. She was a good woman. A fine person. Not a slut.

Oh God, I’ll never be able to face him again.

At least she could avoid Dark Haven for a while since Saturday would be her time with Rona and Abby. She squeezed her eyes shut. If enough time passed, she’d find the courage to share with them what had happened. Surely they’d have some insights.

She’d known he was a weasel. She’d known.

Chapter Four

“I love girls’ night out.” The next Saturday, Lindsey popped a stuffed mushroom in her mouth, smiled at Rona and Abby, and checked out the room. The place was one step up from a fern bar, with great appetizers, strong drinks, and lots of good-looking men. Yet no matter how good-looking, no male was going to tempt her for a long time.

Maybe a lifetime.

“Agreed,” Abby said. Her tailored shirt and dark slacks were balanced out by the pale yellow hair curling in a froth around her face. “I’ve missed you both.”

Rona’s blue-green boatneck dress matched her eyes and enhanced her curves. She pushed her wavy blonde hair back. “Me too.”

“Me three,” Lindsey finished. With Abby’s new marriage and college job, the women hadn’t been able to get together often.

Abby looked Lindsey over. “What happened to the red-and-gold streaks in your hair? You look so sedate.”

Trust a sociologist to be observant. “I’m job hunting.” Lindsey’s mood took a dive. “And was apartment searching for a couple of days too.”

“Is the condo-sitting over? I thought Xavier’s friend wouldn’t return for another month,” Rona said.

“She wasn’t supposed to, except she got homesick and asked if I could move out early.” Lindsey shrugged casually. She’d had a signed agreement, but the woman had cried on the phone, and Lindsey hadn’t had the heart to say no. She knew what homesickness felt like. “I found a new place easy enough.”

Probably because no smart person would live there. Nonetheless, she had no job and couldn’t afford anything nicer. San Francisco rental prices were outrageous, which was why she’d jumped on condo-sitting. Sure, her friends would put her up, but she followed her daddy’s philosophy—don’t borrow what you can’t pay back.

“What day do you want us to show up to help you move?” Rona asked.

“No need. I’ve got it covered.” When she’d taken the condo, they’d helped move her newly acquired furniture into storage. Her stuff could stay there; she didn’t want her property in the dive. And no way would she let her friends visit her either. Shoot, there were fist-size holes in the living room walls. Outside, every corner had gangbangers and drug deals and hookers.

Neither Abby nor Rona would think the little mouse who scavenged in her kitchen was cute—although he kinda was.

“Lindsey,” Abby said. “You know we’re happy to—”

“Look. My hair still has some color,” Lindsey interrupted. She lifted her long hair, showing the purple underlayer. “See? It only shows if I put my hair up.”

“That’s quite a dark purple,” Rona said. “Are you in mourning for the job or the condo?”

Mostly for the wretched memory of a sweet night gone bad. “Neither. The condo was lush but awfully fancy for my comfort.” And too much like Victor’s carefully decorated house, where everything had been bought to impress. Lindsey swirled the remnants of her drink in her glass. “And the temporary receptionist position wasn’t a great job, even though the people were nice.”

“You always think people are nice,” Abby commented absentmindedly as she waved to get the attention of their waitress.

Rona turned, lifted a hand, and the waitress trotted over. “Another round, please, and the check,” Rona said.

Abby glared. “I don’t know why waitstaff will respond to you and not me.”

“Charge nurse, nursing supervisor, hospital administration,” Rona said. “I’m always giving orders. You have no idea how wonderful it is to sometimes hand all decisions and control over to Simon.”

Abby smiled. “Actually, I have a rather good idea.”

For one whole night, Lindsey had felt that wonder. Had wanted to give deVries anything he asked for. With a sigh, she lifted her glass and finished off the watered-down cosmopolitan. The alcohol hummed in her blood, making her feel sentimental. And glum.

“Sweetie, you weren’t at the club last night.” Abby tilted her head. “I saw you leave with Zander last weekend. I’ve been waiting to hear how it went.”

Even as Lindsey’s mouth flattened at the jerk’s name, she felt a flush heat her cheeks. “Not much to say.” Best sex of my life, worst putdown of my life.

“Not a good evening?” Abby didn’t sound surprised.

Everyone knew the hard-core sadist never stayed with a submissive.

I knew he didn’t. And his spending the night had seemed…wonderful. Special. Yay me. “His jets were revved after a scene with johnboy, so he called in my debt from last summer. He just wanted to…to get off.”

“That’s damned cold.” Rona curled her hand around Lindsey’s.

Lindsey’s eyes burned with tears. As the eldest, she’d always watched out for her two sisters and flighty mom. How strange—and wonderful—to be on the receiving end.

“Here you go, ladies.” The waitress handed out the drinks and gave the check to Rona.

When Lindsey dug in her purse for money, Rona shook her head. “My treat tonight.”

“You paid last time.”

“After you land a job, you can take us out to celebrate. All right?”

Pride warred with practicality before she nodded. “I guess so.”

“You sure had a wretched week.” Abby’s face filled with sympathy.