“We were in the middle of a scene, and this crazy woman comes roaring out of the crowd, screaming, grabs my whip, and damned if she didn’t punch me.” Rubbing his reddened chin, the man’s lips curved a little. “It’s almost funny, but still, she ruined our scene.”

“Cages, spanking benches, sawhorses, bondage tables. Scene after scene. Throaty moans, high screams, whining, whimpering, and groaning. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. All his cop instincts shouted for him to get his cuffs out and start arresting people.”

“You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t care, Abby.”“I don’t.” She glared at him, so full of life she almost glowed.“You do.” He kissed the pouting lips lightly. “And I’m going to keep you.”

“To have to perform a scene, a punishment scene like that, was extremely unpleasant. It bothered me to hurt you, Jessica,” he growled. “You will let me hold you, and offer me some comfort in return.”

“She rubbed her cheek on his chest like a sleepy cat. “I like when you hold me.”Dios, she was going to break his heart. “I like when I hold you too.”

“You know I still don’t like your…hobby.”“Didn’t ask your opinion.” Jake rubbed his aching ribs. “If you want mine: anyone using the missionary position twice in a row should serve time.”

“She couldn’t take her eyes from the dancing flame. No, this was so wrong. Candles should be used for meditation…for romance. Or on a birthday cake at least.So where was the cake? The present? The song? As he stepped closer to her—as the damned flame got way too close—she started singing. “Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me…” Marcus paused, looking at her in disbelief. See. I knew he didn’t have a sense of humor. “Happy birthday, dear Gabi”—she lifted her head and blew out the candle—“happy birthday to me.”