happened.
The intruder flicked open the front clasp of her bra, releasing
her large breasts.
The tips of his fingers began caressing her nipples.
To her horror, she felt herself becoming aroused.
His left hand stayed on her breasts while his other hand reached
down and started pulling up her skirt.
"No!" she said sharply. "Please! No!"
"Why not?" he said. "You told me you'd do whatever I said."
"Michael!" she exclaimed, recognizing his voice and spinning
around to face him. "You bastard ! How dare you scare
me."
"I wanted to see if you'd fight back," he said, laughing.
"You're not funny," she said, reaching for the light switch. "I
could've had a heart attack."
"Who, you?" he said, still laughing. "You're strong as a
horse."
"I can't believe you did that to me," she said, fastening her
bra.
"And I can't believe you were out on another date with Mr.
Perfect. Doesn't that jerk ever give up?"
"Just because you've hated Dean for years, there's no need to be
rude. If you wanted to run my life, you should've married
me."
"If I'd married you, we wouldn't still be having sex, would
we?"
"We're not having sex."
"Says who?" he said, coming after her.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, pushing him away. "I don't
hear from you in months, and all of a sudden you appear in the middle
of the night to scare me."
"I'm here. Isn't that enough?"
"No. You treat me like crap, Michael, then you expect me to fell
gratefully into your arms like you're God's gift."
"It seems to work for us, doesn't it?" he said, walking into the
living room. "How many years is it now?"
"Long enough for me to know better," she said, wishing he didn't
look so damn good.
"Want a drink?" he asked, strolling over to the bar.
"Help yourself," she said sarcastically, taking another long look
at him. Yes, he was still the most handsome man she'd ever set eyes
on. His dark hair was only slightly flecked with gray, he was in
excellent shape, and he'd always been a great dresser. Tall, dark,
and handsome. Her weakness.
He fixed himself a hefty scotch on the rocks. "Sure I can't make
you something, baby?"
"I'm not your baby," she said stiffly.
"You've always been my baby," he answered. "You're the only
one who's been there for me through everything."
"Y'know, Michael, you use me," she complained.
"What?" he said, frowning.
"The only time you come here is when you need something. The rest
of the time I'm by myself."
"That's bull-"
"No!" she interrupted. "It's tact. And another thing—the
moment I start a relationship, back you come to ruin everything."
"Don't mean to."
"Yes you do."
"It's a little late for regrets, isn't it?"
"Not at all," she said heatedly. "I've a lot of good years
left."
"Sure you do, sweetheart," he said, soothing her anger. "You're
still an extremely beautiful woman."
Determined not to fell for his flattery as she usually did, she
thrust out her jaw. "I repeat— why are you here?"
"You want the truth, or how about I make something up?"
"The truth would be nice for a change."
"Okay, you asked for it," he said, gulping down his drink.
"There's a warrant out for my arrest."
"You're kidding!"
"Wish I was."
"For what ?"
"Here's the deal," he said slowly. "I'm being accused of shooting
Stella and her boyfriend."
She stared at him for a long time. She'd heard so many stories
about Michael and his wife, Stella. Quite frankly, she didn't know
what to believe. "Did you?" she asked at last, her throat quite dry
at the thought.
"What do you think?" he answered restlessly.
"I think you're a man who's capable of anything."
"I didn't do it, Dani, okay?" he said sharply. "You can take my
word on it."
"Have you seen a lawyer?"
"Lawyers," he said, his voice filled with contempt. "Show me a
lawyer an' I'll show you a guy who sits in a fancy office runnin' up
big bills while screwing his secretary and his clients."
"You're very cynical, Michael."
"No shit."
"So," she said, sighing. "What you're telling me is that there's
The intruder flicked open the front clasp of her bra, releasing
her large breasts.
The tips of his fingers began caressing her nipples.
To her horror, she felt herself becoming aroused.
His left hand stayed on her breasts while his other hand reached
down and started pulling up her skirt.
"No!" she said sharply. "Please! No!"
"Why not?" he said. "You told me you'd do whatever I said."
"Michael!" she exclaimed, recognizing his voice and spinning
around to face him. "You bastard ! How dare you scare
me."
"I wanted to see if you'd fight back," he said, laughing.
"You're not funny," she said, reaching for the light switch. "I
could've had a heart attack."
"Who, you?" he said, still laughing. "You're strong as a
horse."
"I can't believe you did that to me," she said, fastening her
bra.
"And I can't believe you were out on another date with Mr.
Perfect. Doesn't that jerk ever give up?"
"Just because you've hated Dean for years, there's no need to be
rude. If you wanted to run my life, you should've married
me."
"If I'd married you, we wouldn't still be having sex, would
we?"
"We're not having sex."
"Says who?" he said, coming after her.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, pushing him away. "I don't
hear from you in months, and all of a sudden you appear in the middle
of the night to scare me."
"I'm here. Isn't that enough?"
"No. You treat me like crap, Michael, then you expect me to fell
gratefully into your arms like you're God's gift."
"It seems to work for us, doesn't it?" he said, walking into the
living room. "How many years is it now?"
"Long enough for me to know better," she said, wishing he didn't
look so damn good.
"Want a drink?" he asked, strolling over to the bar.
"Help yourself," she said sarcastically, taking another long look
at him. Yes, he was still the most handsome man she'd ever set eyes
on. His dark hair was only slightly flecked with gray, he was in
excellent shape, and he'd always been a great dresser. Tall, dark,
and handsome. Her weakness.
He fixed himself a hefty scotch on the rocks. "Sure I can't make
you something, baby?"
"I'm not your baby," she said stiffly.
"You've always been my baby," he answered. "You're the only
one who's been there for me through everything."
"Y'know, Michael, you use me," she complained.
"What?" he said, frowning.
"The only time you come here is when you need something. The rest
of the time I'm by myself."
"That's bull-"
"No!" she interrupted. "It's tact. And another thing—the
moment I start a relationship, back you come to ruin everything."
"Don't mean to."
"Yes you do."
"It's a little late for regrets, isn't it?"
"Not at all," she said heatedly. "I've a lot of good years
left."
"Sure you do, sweetheart," he said, soothing her anger. "You're
still an extremely beautiful woman."
Determined not to fell for his flattery as she usually did, she
thrust out her jaw. "I repeat— why are you here?"
"You want the truth, or how about I make something up?"
"The truth would be nice for a change."
"Okay, you asked for it," he said, gulping down his drink.
"There's a warrant out for my arrest."
"You're kidding!"
"Wish I was."
"For what ?"
"Here's the deal," he said slowly. "I'm being accused of shooting
Stella and her boyfriend."
She stared at him for a long time. She'd heard so many stories
about Michael and his wife, Stella. Quite frankly, she didn't know
what to believe. "Did you?" she asked at last, her throat quite dry
at the thought.
"What do you think?" he answered restlessly.
"I think you're a man who's capable of anything."
"I didn't do it, Dani, okay?" he said sharply. "You can take my
word on it."
"Have you seen a lawyer?"
"Lawyers," he said, his voice filled with contempt. "Show me a
lawyer an' I'll show you a guy who sits in a fancy office runnin' up
big bills while screwing his secretary and his clients."
"You're very cynical, Michael."
"No shit."
"So," she said, sighing. "What you're telling me is that there's
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