You sit there in your heartache
Waiting on some beautiful boy
To save you from your old ways
You play forgiveness
Watch it now, here he comes…

He doesn't look a thing like Jesus
But he talks like a gentleman
Like you imagined
When you were young…

-- When You Were Young, by The Killers

LOS ANGELES, CA

It was almost ten o'clock when Terry finally made it home from the office. As he turned into the condo's private lane, bright headlights flashed on a woman wearing an elegant red cocktail dress and four-inch Prada pumps getting out of a yellow cab. He slowed, ran the BMW's window down, and grinned lecherously as she sauntered up to the driver's side door, heels clicking on the pavement.

He whistled. "Whatever you're charging, I'm buying, love."

Roslyn Moore leaned in the window, showed off generous cleavage enhanced enticingly by an expensive push-up bra. "You're in luck, handsome. I'm half off tonight. Got stood up."

Terry chuffed a laugh of disbelief. "He's an idiot, and you're better off. Come up the front walk. I'll be there in two tics." But just as he said it, he regretted it. It was late, it had been a long day, and he really wasn't in the mood for company. But it'd been so long since he'd seen Roz, he felt terrible sending her home alone, especially after a disappointing evening.

Pulling the coupe into the garage, Terry ran a hand down his tired face as the door slid closed behind him. Glancing at himself in the rear view mirror, he caught blue eyes and looked hard. It was so strange, he suddenly felt…what? Guilty? Gripped by the feeling that inviting Roz in was somehow wrong. Like he was stepping out on…

"Getting too close, mate," he warned himself. "Get some perspective."

But somehow, that didn't make him feel any better.

Entering the dark condo from the garage, Terry lit a few lights and set his laptop bag by the front door, where Rozzie impatiently knocked shave and a haircut. He hesitated before reaching for the knob, sighed, and forced a smile.

Roz leaned casually in the doorway, her red hair lit from behind, looking like a scarlet beacon. "So where've you been, neighbor? Traveling again?"

"No rest for the wicked," he cracked. When he leaned to welcome her with a kiss on the cheek, she turned and caught his lips seductively.

Terry reciprocated, but it was a quick and friendly kiss, not the hot warm up she was expecting. It actually took her aback. "Are you okay?" she asked. If she'd been the motherly type, she would have put her hand to his forehead to check for fever.

"Sure, love. Just a bit tired," he reassured. Turning for the sideboard, he poured two glasses of Scotch. Maybe a shot would loosen him up.

"Are you sure?" she asked, sincerely concerned. "We can do it another time."

Terry gave his lover a longing gaze. Christ, she looked good tonight. Roz must have liked this one, going to so much effort. His loss, your gain, mate. "Lose the dress, but leave the shoes, all right?" He was overcompensating, he knew it, but she didn't have to.

"That's more like it," she chuckled that throaty laugh he found so sexy.

Terry handed over the glass and walked around the chocolate colored leather sofa as she perched on the arm. "Haven't been any farther than Malibu for the last month, but it's been non stop. This project is insane. Fabulous, but insane."

"And how is Miss Knox?" she grinned with red lips. "Haven't seen anything in the papers lately about you two, but you're still sporting the beard. The Queen must like it. I've never seen you anything but clean shaven."

"People change, Rozzie," he sighed before taking a solid belt of the gold liquor.

"Do they?" she wondered playfully. Roz reached for his big hand, considered it as she drew him down to sit on the couch. How many times had those talented hands gotten her off? Plenty. But in the end, it wasn't the quantity of orgasms Terry Thorne gave her, it was the quality she'd never forget. Earth shakers.

When he'd gotten comfortable on the sofa, she settled easily into his lap. While his arm came around to steady her, she leaned close and ran her tongue along the shell of his ear, loving his sharp intake of breath.

"Christ…" he groaned. "Ahh…so how are things going with your new position, Madame Producer?"

Terry sounded genuinely interested, but it felt like he was trying to distract her. "So far so good," she said, loosening his tie. "If you could help me get a meeting with Miss Knox, it would be even better. But I can think of another position I'd rather talk about right now."

"Roz," he said, stopping her hand and advance abruptly. "Can we just talk a bit, love?"

She eased off, looked into his eyes. He was tired, that was obvious, but there was something more. In this familiar arrangement, she felt suddenly as if she were in new territory. "Sure, baby," she breathed, tried to sound reassuring. "What would you like to talk about?"

Watching the Scotch swirl in his glass, Terry took a moment to think. He wasn't sure what he wanted to tell her, if anything. Wasn't sure what he was really feeling at the moment. Before he had to decide, the cell phone in his pocket rang. "Shit. Sorry," he apologized.

She slid off his lap into the couch without protest.

The incoming call showed Dino on the line. Terry stood and moved toward the front door. "What's on, mate?"

"T, I'm here with David Goldman at his office. We got something you need to hear. Isis' mother-in-law was served with her restraining order this afternoon, and she's not happy about it. She left several messages with David's service. They're threats, Terry."

His stomach clenched. "Hold on, Dino."

Roz watched curiously as Terry tore his laptop from the bag and flipped it open on the coffee table.

With McGrath on hold, Terry called the on-duty agent at the Knox house on the other line. "Craig? It's Thorne. We've had a change in alert status - orange. I don't know the particulars just yet, but I'd like a visual confirmation of Baby Bee, please - without alarming the Queen, if possible."

She couldn't hear the man on the other end of the line, but recognized that Terry was answering his question.

"Laptop's booting now. You're faster, mate."

As expected, Terry received his man's report before the screen could display the security camera's view, and his body language visibly relaxed with the news. Roz watched the digital image clarify until it finally displayed Kore Colbert safely asleep in her bed.

"Thank you, Craig," he sighed with relief. "I'm sending reinforcements just as a precaution. When they arrive, I'd like you to sweep the perimeter for unfriendlies. Helen Colbert, yes. She's the most probable. Until then, don't let the girl out of your sight."

Pressing the phone to his chest, he looked to Roz. "Sorry, love, I just need to check back with Dino. Five minutes. Pour me another drink, hey?"

She nodded and moved to get up, but stopped when the security camera showed light from the hallway flashing into the child's darkened bedroom. "Terry," she warned, pointing to the screen, but he saw it. They both held their breath as they watched the digital image, but it was only Isis and her nanny entering the nursery. There was no audio, but they could clearly see Craig nod to Isis, answering her question in the dim light. He tried to evade her, holding the phone away, but Isis twisted it forcefully from his hand until he relented.

Terry stood quickly, walked down the narrow hallway to the bedroom for privacy.

Over the phone, Isis' voice was strong, but scared. "Terry, what's wrong?"

He made his tone casual, reassuring. "Nothing, love. Just checking on my Butterfly."

"It's that witch about the restraining order, isn't it? Is she here?"

Christ, she's quick, he marveled. "No Ice, no sightings. But we have received a message from her at Goldman's office. I'm sending more men out now, but it's only a precaution, I promise."

"God," she breathed, her voice shaking.

"Hey, Ice. You're all right, love. You hired me to worry so you don't have to, remember?"

"Yeah," she agreed.

"So stop biting your lip, then. I'm watching over you both. No worries."

When Isis Knox looked up into the camera, Roz was struck by the young woman's dark eyes, even in the low light, so wide and afraid. Isis hardly looked like the fierce rock diva she was so used to reading about in the tabloids and trade papers, just a young mother, alone and afraid. And she saw something else in her eyes…

At the edge of the wide Pacific, Isis heard Terry's voice, felt the comfort in its deep resonance as he asked: "Do you trust me, love?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation. "I know you're right, Terry, but…I'd sure feel better if you were here."

He smiled at that, couldn't resist the pride he felt at such a simple and heartfelt sentiment. And to be honest, he was glad she'd given him the excuse to come. The customer is always right. Terry lowered his voice when he said it, made sure Roz wouldn't overhear: "I'd say a late night watch calls for a nice Aussie Shiraz. Uncork the bottle, love. I'll be there once it's had time to breathe."

On the screen, Roz watched a smile spread across Isis' pretty lips, and she knew she was being stood up again.

Isis' voice was relieved and grateful. "Thanks, Boss."

"My pleasure," he replied. "Now give Craig his phone back, love. He'll need it."

When Terry made it back out into the living room, Roz was already at the front door. "Rozzie, wait," he called.

"No worries, mate," she smiled as brightly as she could. "Go work, Terry. She needs you. They both do."

Catching her hand, he drew her back inside, held her fast by the waist. "I'm sorry, love. You've had such a shitty night. I'll make it up to you." With a hand on her cheek, he drew her in and kissed her mouth smartly; took one plump painted lip between his own, then the next.

God, that man can kiss, she marveled silently.

"Thanks for understanding, Roz," he breathed against her ear, before kissing her again. "You're the best."

"And you're a lucky man, Mr. Thorne," she teased.

"Am I?" he wondered.

"Yes…" she said, touching that handsome face, stroking his bearded cheek. So soft. "Because she loves you."

Roslyn Moore watched Terry Thorne's expression go blank, trying to mask his surprised reaction to her simple declaration, but she'd known him long enough to know what that look meant. He'd just realized that she was right.

"Oh, Terry," Roz purred, savoring the moment. "You really didn't know?" Taking one last kiss for her greedy self, she smoothed red lipstick from his speechless mouth with a thumb, then turned quickly before he could see the tears pool in her blue eyes. Prada heels clicked on concrete as Terry watched her stride confidently away, calling back: "Get the rest of that before you go, huh? Lucky, lucky girl!"

w

Over the speakerphone, Dino and David played the recordings from the message service while Terry broke the speed limit on his way to Malibu. Helen Colbert's drug addled ravings were something to behold. Terry was profoundly relieved that Goldman had been the recipient instead of its intended target. This sort of harassment could be considered a form of domestic terrorism, pushed all the right buttons. Isis would have been devastated. In the recording, Court Colbert's abusive mother, Kore's grandmother, first accused Isis of killing Court, shooting him up with the fatal dose of heroin herself. She then turned befuddled logic around 180 degrees and contradicted herself by saying that Colbert killed himself to get away from Isis. Either way, she blamed his widow for his death. I'm sure beating him as a child and teaching him to use drugs had nothing to do with the man's troubles, Terry thought sarcastically.

"Ridiculous," Terry replied over the line. "The woman is a lunatic."

McGrath concurred with his partner. "And a greedy one too. Sounds like she'd forgive all sins for a million bucks. How's that for the going rate on a mother's grief?"

"Nice round number for an opening bid," Terry mused confidently. Now we can negotiate. He shook his head at the unbelievable circumstances. If this woman actually believed that Isis Knox killed her son, why in the world would she be willing to take a pay off instead of seeing justice done? Some mother. Terry knew that if anyone ever dared to hurt Kore, Isis wouldn't rest until she'd opened his throat with her teeth.

"Anyway," Dino continued. "The last message was stamped 7:00 pm. It's nearly 11:00. She's probably passed out by now, no threat. But I'd still have the boys sweep outside, just to be safe. Who knows who she's connected with these days: junkies, drug dealers, outlaw bikers."

"Agreed," Terry spoke. "I'm five minutes out. Is Chris on his way?"

"Already there," Dino confirmed.

"Good. Thanks hermano."

A new voice came over the line. "Hey Thorne, its David."

"Hello Tarzan. What can I do you for?"

"Nice…nice…" he said ruefully to the nickname. "So what does this do to the Grammy plans? Any thoughts?"

"Nothing," Terry answered confidently, echoed by Dino's, "Nada."

"Nothing? Why?"

Terry took the lead over the phone, knowing his partner would be backing him up there in the office. "It was a contingency we'd already planned for."

"Yup, every angle, D," McGrath confirmed.

"Yeah? Well, I'm not convinced," Goldman said firmly. "Thorne, you just won a date with Isis Knox. I want you walking the red carpet with her, capisce? If that crazy bitch wants my baby, she's gonna have to go through you to get her."

Terry considered the suggestion for a moment, then answered coolly, "I imagine Miss Knox should have a say in that, don't you?"

"So ask her, and make it good. If you tell her I put you up to it, I'll deny it."

Terry could hear the wheels turning in his partner's voice when Dino picked up the thread. "It's not a bad idea, T. That way we can cover her everywhere -"

"Except when she's on stage," Terry insisted. "If you want to be totally secure, cancelling the performance is the safest option."

David Goldman backpedaled immediately, just as Terry had anticipated. "Cancel? Who said anything about cancelling? Do you know how many fucking albums a Grammy appearance sells! No, that is not an option, gentlemen. She's walking the carpet, smiling for the paparazzi, and showing off her Vera Wang. And when they yell 'who are you wearing Mr. Thorne?' you'd better fucking say Armani." Isis Knox's over-the-top manager and agent was done making demands, but not done complaining as he muttered in the background: "Cancel the Grammy performance, he says. Jesus fucking Christ!"

Terry shook his head ruefully. "We'll pick this up tomorrow, ladies," he said as he made the turn off to the Knox house. "I'll take it from here. Now get some sleep. Cheers."

He knew he wouldn't be having any.

MALIBU, CA

Chris Wyatt met Terry in the palm-lined driveway for an update on the situation.

"We have four agents on site now. Craig and I walked the perimeter, but found no evidence of intruders. We used the night vision on the beach, but they won't work up front because of the driveway lighting. No rooftops really close enough for a clear shot from anything but a serious sniper rifle, but we checked them anyway and they're clear."

"Good job, Chris," he said as they neared the house. "I think we can stand down for now, but let's keep the extra agents on until the awards show. We were going to need them next week anyway."

"What were the threats?"

"Nothing specific, but the woman followed Ice from Seattle to Los Angeles. This is a serious situation. We need to defuse it now."

When they made their way thought the entry towards the back of the house, the young agent smiled a little sheepishly as he watched Terry's expression turn serious. He whispered a little fearfully, "What did I miss?"

Through the large living room, Terry saw the elegant kitchen-dining area blazing with light and buzzing with activity. Inside, two of his three agents stood guard, while Isis and her women sat around the dining table sharing a bottle of wine. With the tall windows looking out to the darkness of the night ocean, Terry felt suddenly exposed.

"I love that kitchen, but not tonight. Go dark."

"Shit, you're right," Chris realized, then called to his men to begin moving everyone out.

Isis' head turned when she saw them approach. She was up and across the lighted dining room before they could enter.

"Hello, love," he tried to call with a confident smile, but Terry's heartbeat quickened as he watched her come, her dark eyes at once fearful and relieved. And there was something else there. Could Roz have been right? Suddenly, he felt his own anxiety rise, needed to have her in his arms. Christ, if anything had happened…

"Terry," she breathed.

He wrapped strong arms around her little frame and held her tightly, for his own comfort he realized, as much as for hers. When he felt her body tremble against him, he leaned to speak gently, "You're all right, love. I've got you."

"God, I'm sorry," she whispered. "Sorry I made you come down here. Chris said everything was clear but…God." Her body shook with sudden sobs, and she hid her face in his chest.

"Shh…" he soothed. Drawing her down to sit on a waiting sofa in the darkened living room, he let her cry, held her fast in this rare moment of outward vulnerability. "I'm glad you asked for me. That's what mates do, yeah?"

Isis smiled embarrassment up into his eyes, wiped a tear from her cheek. "I always do this," she confessed. "In a crisis, I'm good and focused, whatever it takes to get through it, but when it's safe, I totally break down. It's stupid."

"Not stupid, it's strong," he insisted, rubbing her shoulders. "Most do it the other way round. It's how I make my living, love, guiding people through a crisis. But you need that release. If you don't let it out, someday you'll just drop dead," he smiled, kissed the top of her head. "Just breathe, mate. Let it go."

Delicate brows furrowed as she looked to him again for answers. "The restraining order was supposed to help, but I think it's just made things worse."

He shook his head. "No love, this is the right thing to do. We have it on the record now, and we can collect evidence to build a case against her. These threats…they're good for us, actually. She's digging her own grave. We'll just make sure she falls in."

"All part of your plan, huh?" Isis laughed darkly. "You gonna let me in on the rest of it?"

"Yes, when the time is right. But for now, let's just say you're on a need to know basis. And all you need to know now is that Kore is safe, and everything is fine."

Isis nodded gratefully, and cuddled in for another embrace. "God, Terry. How did I ever get along without you?"

"Pretty well, actually," he reassured. "You were smart. And when you knew you needed help, you found someone you trusted. Then you let me do my job."

She smiled into his broad chest. It felt so good, having a man to hold onto, to feel his solid body and comforting strength. It was always so hard for her to give up control of anything. All her life she'd insisted on remaining independent, even with Court. She loved her husband, but with the weakness of his drug addiction, she never felt like she could completely let go with him, always had to keep a part of herself separate to keep them both safe. But in the end, she couldn't save him, couldn't fill the empty place his abusive mother left inside, no matter how much she loved him. With Terry Thorne, for the first time in her life, Isis felt herself wanting to trust someone completely, to give in to his confident masculine will, let him shelter and protect her. She wouldn't do it of course, not yet anyway, but the promise of the possibility filled her with hope.

And sitting there in his arms, awash in his scent, she felt her body flush and her heartbeat quicken. Isis wondered what Terry Thorne might say if she had the courage to invite him to bed tonight.

But his chest rose and fell as he sighed in frustration. With her ear pressed to his chest, his voice was a low rumble when he spoke.

"I suppose if I was really doing my job, you wouldn't be losing sleep, Ice." Tipping her chin up to look into his eyes, he considered her face in the dim lighting. Beautiful, but exhausted. He couldn't resist petting the soft skin of her cheek. "You should try to go to bed, love. I'm going to take a watch. The shiraz will keep for another night. A better night," he smiled.

"Okay," she sighed, her courage flagging. "But I need my baby. I won't be able to sleep without her tonight. Will you help me get her?"

He nodded, and as she rose to go, she held his hand tightly, unwilling to release it. Terry squeezed reassuringly and went upstairs behind her, grateful for the invitation. Though he knew she was safe, he felt the need to see Kore with his own eyes.

In the darkened nursery, Craig seemed a strange nanny in his dress shirt, tie, and Bluetooth earpiece. He rose from the oversized rocking chair when Isis and Terry entered.

"At ease," Terry whispered his order. "Change of venue. Go ahead and have a break, Craig. I'll take this watch."

Nodding in agreement, the agent moved silently out of the room.

Kore's bed was dressed in white, like her mother's. She looked like an angel sleeping there, surrounded by colorful stuffed animals. Isis sat on the edge of the mattress and petted her daughter's dark curls back from her beautiful face.

"Can you imagine anyone wanting to hurt this baby? Much less her own grandmother."

Terry just shook his head sadly. So innocent, and so precious. Even though the relief he felt in seeing Kore was profound, he still felt the urge to touch her to know that she was really all right. He had to put his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out and waking her.

Isis spoke quietly as Terry stood over them both. "My grandmother raised me, you know? She was a music teacher. Taught me everything I know. My mom was kind of like Court's. Mentally ill, but she had the decency to leave us alone. We always had that in common, growing up without our mothers. But I was the lucky one."

He reached out and stroked Isis' dark hair, so soft and sleek. "Kore's the lucky one, love. Lucky to have a mother like you." She smiled as she drew down the blankets, reached for her child, but Terry couldn't resist. He had to ask, "May I?"

At her nod, Terry lifted the sleeping child from the bed, but found himself out of practice. She stirred and woke in his arms. "Hi Tew-wy," Kore murmured sleepily, and wrapped her little arms around his neck.

"Hi Butterfly," he whispered. "Want to sleep with Mum tonight?"

The child nodded against his shoulder and yawned. He smiled when he felt her fingers twine in his hair in that familiar gesture of comfort before she laid her head on his shoulder and fell back to sleep.

Isis led them down the hall to her bedroom, and lit a dim lamp, then turned down the blankets for Terry to lay the baby down. When she settled, he petted a hand over the girl's dark bed-mussed curls, and admired her there against the pillow, sleeping without a care in the world. He vowed to himself to keep it that way. Terry couldn't resist; leaning to kiss her pink cheek, he whispered, "Goodnight, sweetheart."

Rising, Terry put an arm around Isis' shoulder, and led her towards the bedroom door where light spilled in from the hallway.

Into the silence, Isis turned to face him and began a little shyly, "So I've been thinking about the Grammys, Boss. What do you think about going to the show with me? Good idea?"

Terry smiled, surprised. Delighted. He put his hands in his pockets and raised an inquisitive brow. "Miss Knox, are you asking me for an appointment, or a date?"

"I'm not sure," she chuckled quietly. "More a date, I guess, but I always have a hard time separating business from pleasure. I hate going to these things alone, and I figured it might be good for you too: the publicity, the after parties. You can watch my back and make some good contacts too."

Nice to have a woman make the first move once in a while, he thought, impressed by her insight and bravada. Saved him the wind up, and with David Goldman's order, it was a relief. Now there wouldn't be any confusion about who wanted what sometime down the road.

"You don't have to twist my arm, love," he grinned. "It's a good idea, and business with you is always pleasure. I'd be honored, thank you." Taking her hands in his, he drew her closer, looked deep into her eyes. "And Ice, since the salsa dancing seems so elusive…let's call it a date, shall we?"

Her stomach fluttered with nervous excitement as she nodded and smiled shyly. This night had taken her from one extreme to another. What a ride. She felt so relieved and grateful. "I'd like that," she breathed. "Thanks for coming tonight, Terry. Really."

Her dark eyes shined up to him in the dim light, and he saw it there…Rozzie had been right. Breathe, mate, he cautioned himself. Searching his own heart, he found the truth, and spoke it. "Honestly, love, there's no place I'd rather be."

Terry heard Isis take in a sharp breath before he leaned and took her waiting mouth in a gentle kiss. Soft lips responded as he gauged her reaction: welcoming, if a little hesitant. When he slanted his jaw over hers for deeper access, she made a needful sound, drew him closer, and opened eagerly for more. The scent of her floral shampoo, the wine on her breath made his head swim, and he took what he'd been dreaming of, gave her what she needed. He felt his heartbeat in his own ears as his breath deepened. That full soft mouth felt so good, better than he had ever imagined. And when her tongue licked in to touch his, gently seeking, he felt it in his cock.

When he finally broke the kiss, Isis heard herself pant for breath, felt her knees shaking, but she seemed outside herself, dizzy. She clung to him to steady herself and gazed up into his bemused smile.

"You all right, love?" he asked.

Her stunned face turned hungry, and she drew him back down, demanded more, drinking from his lips as if she were dying of thirst. He obliged her willingly, devouring, loving the sensation of her desirous moan in his mouth, felt its vibration shudder down his spine. The floodgates were open. He couldn't contain the rush of her passion, only ride the wave. Terry felt himself growing wild as her nails clawed his back through his shirt. His body responded to the power of her need, and he backed her up against the wall, trapped her there against his body. Gasping for breath, she threw her head back, and he dove for her neck, gave into the animalistic urge to nip and bite her there, possess her completely.

When Terry's big warm hands moved down her back to cup and knead the cheeks of her ass, Isis' body exploded in sensation. She wanted him inside her so bad her skin ached. To feel the strong sure touch of a man after such a long dormancy, she felt every cell in her body begging wantonly for more. Wake me up inside…

"Terry, oh God," she gasped. She felt like she wanted to climb up his body, wished he would lift her into his arms and take her right there against the wall of her bedroom while her daughter slept. Drawing her knee up high on his hip, he caught her there, held fast and ground into her body hard.

But the needful shaking tone of her voice woke him from his abandon. Once he'd felt a measure of the passion she was capable of, caught a glimpse of the height they could reach together, it only whetted his appetite for more. But she was so vulnerable at this moment, Terry knew he needed to be the strong one. Breathing purposefully, he fought to control his own desire and softened his embrace. He spoke wordless soothing sounds, gentled her flood of excitement as he willed his own body to stand down.

"Christ, love," he breathed against her cheek. "I feel like I could eat you alive."

"You don't have to go," she pleaded.

"I need to go, before I can't," he insisted. "I'm on watch, remember? And besides, we'll wake my Butterfly."

Breathing deeply, Isis nodded as she steadied herself against the wall. She held his face as he kissed her lips again, but gently.

He nuzzled into her hair, took in that now familiar scent that never failed to turn him on. "Isis darling, that was…Christ…better than I could have imagined."

Her dark eyes were hooded when she asked, "Have you been imagining us together, Terry?"

"Since the moment I laid eyes on you," he confessed. "Of course, on that plane at first, I thought you'd rather kill me than kiss me."

She laughed quietly, and it broke the tension. "I still might," she teased seductively, her fingers playing at the hair at the base of his neck.

"I'm willing to take that risk," he grinned. His eyes smoldered when he said it: "I couldn't think of a better way to go." Taking her hand, he drew it to his lips and kissed. "So the Grammys, hey? Now that's a proper first date, don't you think?"

She looked unsure. "I'm afraid we won't have much time alone."

"Oh, I'll have you alone, love," he purred. "At the after-after party. Very exclusive list, that. Only you and me." With one last kiss on her lips, he said, "If you need me, I'm just downstairs. Goodnight, love. Sweet dreams."

Isis watched Terry turn and close the bedroom door behind him. Her fingers went to her lips in disbelief, still tingling from his kiss. His whiskey voice rang in her mind again: If you need me, I'm just downstairs.

"How the hell does he expect me to sleep now?" she wondered quietly.