The Proviso by Moriah Jovan Page A

jeans, and put the
textbook in the backpack next to her, then stretched as far as she
could within the confines of her car.
    He said nothing as he watched her. She had taken off
her vest and the thin white tee shirt did nothing to hide the lacy
nearly-nothing bra she wore underneath it. Her nipples had hardened
in the cool night air, begging for a nip, a lick, a tug.
    A bite. Bryce released a strangled
breath.
    She came down from her stretch with a hard glint in
her eyes, an ice blue that could probably sear a man in half. He
had the oddest feeling that he had seen those eyes somewhere
before.
    “What do you want.” Clipped, hostile. Not a
question.
    “I wanted to tell you how foolish it is to sleep in
an empty Plaza parking garage in the middle of the night with your
windows rolled down, but I see it’s occurred to you.”
    “Indeed,” she said, tight-lipped. “Anything
else?”
    Neither her expression nor her tone held any hint of
desire or anything remotely complimentary—just anger with a great
deal of contempt thrown in for good measure. He shouldn’t be
surprised. He’d burned that particular bridge behind him.
    And rightly so! Another man’s lover, even.
Although . . . from looking at the car, it didn’t seem as though
Knox took care of her very well and certainly not as well as he’d
taken care of Leah.
    “I wanted to know if you’d like a late dinner,” he
said, shocking himself.
    She blinked. “’Scuse me?”
    He’d boxed himself in well. “Dinner. Or breakfast.
Whatever.”
    “Oh, I don’t think so,” she sneered. She shoved her
car key into the ignition and turned the engine over.
    “I saved your job.” Lame. True, but lame.
    “Lame,” she snapped. “Whatever you assumed about me?
Dead wrong, so keep your derision to yourself. I don’t know who you
are or who you think you are, but I assure you: You have never met
a woman like me, and you never will again.”
    So saying, she reached over and grabbed the knot of
his necktie to pull him to her. Surprised, he didn’t fight, but
when her lips touched his and her tongue swept his mouth, he
returned it with the same fire.
    Then he wrapped his hand around the back of her
head, crushed her to him, and took the kiss away from her.
    Directed it.
    Deepened it.
    Lengthened it.
    He opened his eyes to watch her. Her face was a
study in desire, her eyes closed, her breath ragged, her tongue
matching his stroke for stroke, shift for shift. She sighed into
his mouth and released his tie to caress his neck, the scars there,
her thumb stroking his jaw line while their tongues mated.
    Suddenly she sucked in a deep breath and her eyes
popped open, staring at him as if she’d lost herself somewhere
inside him. She had. He’d surprised her, taken the power position
away from her and she didn’t know how to take it back.
    He knew this as surely as he knew his own name.
    She jerked away from him, her breathing heavy and
her eyes wide. “You—” She stopped. Swallowed. “I—” Bit her lip.
Fumbled for the gear shift.
    Bryce stood, then wrapped his hand tightly around
her chin. He tilted her head up until she looked up at him, an odd
mixture of panic and passion in her expression.
    “Be careful what you wish for, Miss Cox,” he purred.
“You might get it.” Then he turned and strode toward his own car
without looking back, wondering what she’d make of that .
    * * * * *
     
     
     
     
    6:
ENERGIZER RABBIT
    AUGUST 2005
     
    “Ah, Sunday again,” Sebastian intoned from the sofa
where he watched a movie and drank a bottle of wine. “I don’t even
know why you bother going to church. You’re not the most sterling
example of Mormon womanhood ever.”
    Giselle went into the kitchen to mix up her
sugar-free pink lemonade electrolyte booster, then cut ham and
cheese into cubes to snack on before going to church.
“ Technically , I am.”
    “With your mouth? And your penchant for killing
hitmen?”
    She went into the living room to eat and