When Mark had the clasp safely latched, he turned her around to face him. Looking down at the charm, he found himself hoping she would never take it off. It was a ridiculous notion, to think it in some way marked her as his, yet seeing his woman wearing a symbol of his affection made him feel ten feet tall.

He reached for the two hearts and held them between his finger and thumb, wanting to give her so much more than he could currently offer. "You should have seen me demolish my dinner so that I could catch the earlier flight tonight. They all thought I hadn't eaten in a week."

She blinked up at him, still caught up on the I-love-you confession. It didn't bother him that she didn't give it back. She had a lot more to deal with than he did: an unfaithful husband, a partner torn away from her too soon, and a daughter to consider. Not to mention the fact that her current beau was bad news.

He was not in a rush. Time had a way of putting things in perspective.

He had gone to see his jewelry designer friend the minute he landed in New York. Pierre was the same guy who had loaned him the diamonds from his Rodeo Drive store for the Governor's Arts Awards. Mark had no idea what he was looking for; it was Pierre who had suggested the simple design.

It was perfect.

Not that she needed to know the necklace was one of a kind—best to let her think it was found in some department store, laid out in a big, boxy display case for the masses to eyeball while throwing hints at their partners.

"You have my heart all tied up just like this," he murmured.

She gave him a glorious smile. "You know, for a man who claims he can't find the right words, you sure know how to charm the pants off a woman."

He leaned in to whisper, "You're not wearing any pants."

She looked down, as though she had forgotten what she was wearing. A soft laugh reached his ears and he closed his eyes, enjoying the sound, letting it sink in to the depth of his soul—she was like a drug, seeping in and easing away the gloom.

"Hey."

Her sweet voice pulled him out of his reverie. He opened his eyes to find hers full of heated passion.

"You're right," she breathed. "So . . . what are you waiting for?"

The charm was dropped, falling back to its enviable position, the small valley of soft skin where cleavage begins. Not to worry. His mouth would be there soon. Lifting his hand to her chin, he tilted her head up—and kissed the woman he loved.

) l (

The sun was peeking through a crack in the drapes when Virginia decided to get up and make breakfast. Little by little, she lifted the heavy arm slung over her waist and inched her way to the edge of the bed, trying not to rouse him. As she reached for her robe, movement had her looking over her shoulder. He was propped up on one elbow, watching her. And what a sight he was, with the tousled hair, the morning stubble, the bare chest, and the top of the sheet gathered tantalizingly low on his hips. It was all she could do not to slide back into position beside him.

"I'm going to make breakfast. You can take the shower first," she offered.

He smiled. "You sure you don't want me to cook?"

She twisted around and smacked that impressive chest.

Grabbing her hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed its palm. "I'm starving," he said huskily.

She knew he wasn't talking about food. Pulling her hand back, she got off the bed. "Better make it a cold shower, then."

A deep, drawn out "hmm" was the only warning she got before he reached out to grab her. She ducked away and laughed with contentment as those sexy eyes stalked her exit.

In the kitchen she made coffee and pulled out the frying pan. Once the bacon was on, she got busy cracking eggs into a bowl. She couldn't stop smiling, replaying the night in her mind.

Being so absorbed in her thoughts, she was barely aware of the sound of the front door opening, and she jumped when a newspaper landed beside her on the countertop. Creased open to a picture of Mark and Mariah, the caption read, BEST LOVER I EVER HAD.

She looked up to find Paul standing beside her.

"Is this the life you have chosen for yourself, Virginia? He parades these starlets about like a new toy while he skulks around in the shadows with you." He stared down at her, looking fully vindicated.

Virginia felt the tension running down her spine. "Don't believe everything you read."

"Don't be a fool."

The bacon got the brunt of her anger when she scooped it up with the spatula, flipped her wrist, and slammed it back down into the frying pan. Grease splattered in a wide radius, and she closed her eyes, willing herself to relax.

"What exactly do you have against him?" she pressed as Paul poured himself a coffee.

"Oh . . . let's see . . ." Paul drew out, shoving the coffeepot back onto its base. "Maybe it's the fact that he's"—his eyes shot to the ceiling while his fingers snapped in an exaggerated what-is-that-word gesture—"a fucking criminal!"

"If he was guilty of something, he'd be in jail," Virginia all but yelled. But even she could hear the lack of conviction in her voice.

"Yes, I see what you're saying . . ." Paul leaned back against the counter and nodded his head, over and over, until she felt like slapping him. "It's okay to commit the crime, just as long as you don't get caught. Kind of ironic coming from you, don't you think?"

He held nothing back, aiming where he could inflict the most damage. She wasn't backing down, though, quite willing to pull some punches of her own.

"I guess you would rather I hang around with you and your pals. Take someone to bed and watch in the morning as he scratches his head trying to remember my name. Is that the man I should be out there looking for?"

Paul lifted his chin, staring down his nose at her, taking the insult with no denial. Bringing the mug up to his mouth, he hissed an "I don't trust him" before taking a sip.

A noise had them both turning their heads just as Mark entered the kitchen with his sweater thrown over his shoulder. He must have heard their raised voices and rushed to get out there.

Paul slammed his mug down, coffee sloshing over the rim, most of it landing on the picture. He gave Virginia a you've-got-to-be-kidding-me look before muttering, "That's just great." He stalked off, brushing past Mark without acknowledgement.

The front door slammed, signaling his departure.

"Your brother seems exceptionally friendly this morning," Mark said as he came up behind her. He spotted the newspaper. "What the hell?"

The eggs were getting their fair share of her frustration as she beat them with the whisk.

"That was about me, wasn't it?" Mark put his hand on top of hers, saving the eggs from their rubbery fate, and turned her to face him. "I know you don't like arguing with your brother."

"He's being a jerk." She forced a smile, but the joy that had been there minutes ago was now gone.

After they ate their breakfast, Mark left to go pick up Simon, telling her he would meet her at the gym. As she was cleaning up, she picked up Paul's newspaper and was about to throw it away when a different caption caught her eye: ARMED ROBBER ATTACKED AND BEATEN BY VIGILANTE GANG IN SOUTHEAST.

Virginia had not talked to Dominique about his safety patrol idea since their last discussion. Her friends at the city were doubtful, though, seeing as both the mayor and the police chief publicly opposed such groups, but they had assured her they would bring it up at the next council meeting. She wasn't holding out much hope.

Louis had been asking around, but so far he'd had about as much luck as the police in tracking down Darnel's attackers. If Gus was behind it, he was managing to keep it quiet. There had been no further threats against the gym, however, and Mark believed it was a one time thing, a tactic. He likened Gus to a rattlesnake, known for its unnerving warnings but generally willing to leave you alone if you stayed out of its way.

"And here we are, poking it with a stick," she muttered.

She sat down to read the article, praying her instincts were wrong and it had nothing to do with her gym manager. 

END OF CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

It seems like things are coming to a head, doesn't it?  What do you think of Paul's attitude? Is he right? 

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The next chapter is PRIVATE and one of my favorites!