Tonight make me unstoppable
And I will charm, I will slice
I will dazzle them with my wit.

Tonight make me unstoppable
And I will charm, I will slice
I will dazzle, I will outshine them all.

- The Prayer, Bloc Party

LOS ANGELES, CA

In the lounge at the entrance to the Staples Center, home of the 49th annual Grammy extravaganza, Terry Thorne admired Isis Knox's resilience. Even after that gauntlet on the red carpet with crazy Helen Colbert and the bloodthirsty paparazzi hurling horrendous accusations, she made it a point to say that she wasn't going to let them ruin their evening.

Touching up her makeup in a mirrored wall with Terry's monogrammed handkerchief, she stoked her own confidence, saying, "Fake it, till you make it, right? I always wanted to be an actress."

And if tonight's performance was any measure of her abilities, she'd be a natural. Terry watched her invoke that star glamour, wondered again at how she accomplished it. Something about taking a deep breath and calling up an intrinsic charisma within her. He couldn't fathom it. As he led Isis Knox to their seats, she was the diva again, as if nothing untoward at all had happened. She smiled for the glittering crowd, and he was so proud to have her on his arm for her strength as well as her beauty, even though she gripped it tightly for security. She didn't even look nervous at the first commercial break when Jason Montez' seat was still being filled by a beautiful blonde model. Fortunately, he showed up by the second.

"There you are," she sighed, standing to greet him. "I thought Cal was gonna get his part back."

"Sorry I'm late, Ice," he apologized as he leaned down from his towering height to kiss her cheek. Acknowledging Terry, he said, "You must be James Bond."

"No, just Terry Thorne," he corrected with a pleasant smile, holding out a hand to shake.

Jason took his hand, but squeezed with such force that Terry couldn't take it any other way than a challenge. Montez was exceptionally tall and thin. He wore his dark hair long and in his green eyes, as if he were hiding something, or just didn't care. But where Court Colbert had seemed unaffected by the lure of wealth in simple flannels and jeans, Montez was dressed in a sharp blazer over a designer t-shirt, torn to look careless, and pencil thin pants so tight you could nearly see his religion. But it was nothing original, Terry mused. Just the informal formal look that rock stars had affected since Mick Jagger made it popular back in the day.

Jason seemed to want to unbalance Terry when he pulled him in close to whisper, "You packin' heat, man? Licensed to carry?"

But Terry stood firm, replying lightly, "Wouldn't be very good at my job if I wasn't."

"Cool," Jason approved with a nod, sounding like an overgrown kid.

Isis watched the exchange intently. Jeez, Jase, just whip it out and get it over with, she thought, but took her seat instead, thankful she was sitting between the two to separate them.

Montez grinned and slid his sunglasses on. "Guess you don't need to worry about Court's crazy mom tonight, huh? We got you covered," he said, obviously unaware of the scene that had played out before his arrival. "You're running with the big dogs tonight, girl," Jason said, and slapped her thigh with a big hand.

When Isis jumped, Terry didn't move, just turned and glowered over her head, his jaw set and brows drawn in an expression that communicated its message clearly: do not do that again.

"Sorry," Jason said, tossing the apology without much feeling.

Thankfully, the show resumed, and Terry watched the gala event at Isis' side. Though he had no idea who most of the performers were - so many rappers and R&B singers he could do without - he did appreciate seeing Sting and The Police in their incredible reunion. Isis and Unforgiven were nominated in two categories: Best Song and Best Female Vocal Performance. Thorne couldn't help thinking of Henry, how much he might have enjoyed this evening. At least he would have heard of most of the celebrities in attendance. He kept feeling guilty that he hadn't had time to take his son's call. But not so guilty that he wasn't enjoying the evening, especially the company of Isis Knox.

She truly was a stunning beauty. Even in this room full of glamorous women, Isis stood out as a unique and exotic bloom, but he knew there was so much more beneath that polished exterior. Terry appreciated Isis' subtle perfume as she leaned to whisper into his ear, keeping him apprised of who was who, pointing out the major players for the after party, sharing a bit of gossip he might find useful in conversation. She was an exceptionally astute businesswoman, and perfectly placed in the industry to open so many doors for Thorne-McGrath.

"Forget the big names," she instructed, leaning close enough so he could feel her breath caress his ear. And her words were more seductive to him than any pillow talk. "Go for the executives. They have the real cash in this business. Start with Rubens; I'll introduce you at the party. Once the others hear Rick's talking to you, they'll come circling like sharks."

"Christ, love, you're making my mouth water," he replied intimately, stroking the soft skin of her tattooed bicep with the lightest brush of a fingertip. "And not just for the deals." Terry licked his lips unconsciously. He wanted to kiss her ear again, suck that sweet lobe into his mouth and nibble, lick at the pretty tattoo. But instead, under the unblinking eye of the cameras, he simply brought her little hand to his lips to kiss.

The opportunities she promised whetted his appetite for the after party, and his mind went into overdrive, planning a new angle of attack, a strategy specifically fit to the entertainment industry. At the same time, he hated to imagine the long evenings in the office that taking advantage of those opportunities would surely entail; evenings he might otherwise spend with her.

The night wore on, and though everyone looked dazzling for the cameras, Terry realized what an ordeal these events were. After the first hour, most of the audience was shifting restlessly in their seats, growing hungry and bored. The only thing that kept them interested was the promise of the night's biggest awards, wisely saved until the end of the show to keep the seats filled. Finally, the nominees for Best Female Vocal Performance were read. Terry felt his stomach twist with nervous anticipation for Isis, though she looked completely unconcerned, smiling for the camera that had crept up on them in the aisle to catch her reaction. The only thing that gave away her excitement was the way she gripped his hand so tightly.

Terry considered that little hand as the anticipation dragged on, remembered the gentle sensation of it on his arm that night over the Pacific, on their way home to LA from Tokyo. His life had changed so much since that night, in ways he never could have imagined. Was it for the better? Certainly, Thorne-McGrath was in uncharted water, out of their area of expertise. Would it pay off? That remained to be seen. But there was no doubt that life had taken some unanticipated and exciting twists. And Terry Thorne knew himself, he was wired for the challenge, for the danger, and to play the rescuer to the damsel in distress. Providing security services to Isis Knox gave him almost everything he needed.

When Isis' name was read from the card, Terry wasn't the least bit surprised, though she seemed shocked and thrilled. He was more amazed with the kiss she gave him right there in front of the camera, hugging him tightly, and couldn't have been more delighted. Jason Montez made a show of pumping his fist in celebration, and stood with Terry to help hand Isis from her seat. But once she was on her feet, she was steady and in her element.

On stage, Isis collected her golden statuette from the presenter and stepped to the microphone. Shading her eyes from the bright spotlights, she searched the audience for Cal and the band.

"Solo vocal performance? I wasn't alone in that studio, ya know," she spoke informally into the microphone, and waved them all up to join her. "Come on up, guys."

She waited until they were hustling down the aisle before she continued.

"First, I have to thank Cal and the band. Without you guys, I'd still be giving piano lessons at my Grandma's. Thanks to Rick Rubens for producing an amazing song, the incomparable David Goldman, Julie and the girls at home. Love to my beautiful daughter, Kore. She'll see this tomorrow. Hi sweetie! Thanks to my new partners at Thorne-McGrath Risk Management," she pronounced so crisply.

Terry blew her a kiss in thanks, could just see Dino creaming his jeans for the priceless publicity.

While Isis gave her acceptance speech, Terry watched Jason out of the corner of his eye. It was obvious that the young man idolized her, could see the desire plain in his eyes, but he seemed to look at her like an object rather than a person, like a prize to be won. At the same time, Terry wondered at his own motives. Wasn't it somehow the same? Did he want Isis for what she could do for him, or did he want her for herself? If he answered himself honestly, he would have to say both.

"And mostly, I have to thank all the fans. None of us would be here without you." The crowd gave a warm round of applause, but Isis waited for it to quiet before she added, "No, I'm never alone. Court is always with me." She looked heavenward and raised the golden statuette when she said, "This one's for you, baby. I love you. Thanks everyone!"

As the music played Isis and her band off stage, the show went to another commercial break. Thorne-McGrath had planned for either contingency, a win or a loss, but this was the outcome they had all hoped for. And the timing couldn't be more perfect. Unforgiven was up next to perform their nominated song, or so the director thought. Terry tracked Isis as she moved back stage, stood to follow her to his position for the performance.

"Show time," Terry announced to Jason. At the stairs, he went for his identification to show to the Excelsior agent.

But Jason slapped Terry's back and smiled up to the security officer. "Don't worry, he's with me." And the agent let Jason breeze by without a second glance.

Pathetic, Terry thought at the lack of discipline and procedure.

Taking his position for the performance in the wings, Terry found Isis in the bustling crowd and gave her a confident wink. She took a moment to smile and wave, then hurried to her mark. It was amazing to watch the hands set the stage, each with their own earpieces, like his agents, listening for the director's orders. In what seemed like moments, everything was ready. Isis and the band were in place while Jason waited for his cue off stage, wireless microphone in hand.

From his vantage, Terry continued to scan the backstage crowd cautiously while listening to the chatter on his ear piece. Ian Wyatt's familiar voice called the all clear and counted down to show time. When the stage was flooded with light revealing Isis seated at the black grand piano, the crowd and even the remote security officers hushed. As she played a slow haunting melody, the light reflected off her jeweled dress and doubled her image in the mirror finish of the piano. The audience was clearly expecting something else, the band's nominated song, but even with the unfamiliar tune, they were drawn in by her voice. Terry Thorne withdrew his white ear bud to listen, and the lyrics of the new song captured his attention.

"How can you see into my eyes like open doors?
Leading you down into my core, where I've become so numb.
Without a soul, my spirit sleeping somewhere cold…"

Isis' eyes rose, connected with Jason's backstage for his cue, but as she sang the next line, her gaze moved to catch Terry's eyes and held his attention, made her meaning clear.

"Until you find it there and lead…it…back…home…"

At the dramatic pause, Isis took up her microphone and stood from the piano. Jason rushed out to join her. Both bands cut loose in perfect time.

"Wake me up!"

"Wake me up inside…"

Terry realized then he'd been holding his breath, or more accurately, that she'd taken it away. The gentle lyrical opening of the song contrasted sharply with the driving beat that took over, and the rest of the performance seemed a blur. The room was electrified with the surprise duet of Knox and Montez, a perfect pairing of vocal styles and performance, while the combined forces of Unforgiven and Certified pounded out their sound and fury, rhythm and melody, in locked precision. Terry was enthralled by the high rock theatrics, the near operatic drama. Isis and Jason played off each other deftly, telling a story of dark renewal with their lyrics. He wondered idly at how Court Colbert might have enjoyed such a performance, felt suddenly sorry that he had missed it. And in his heart, Terry knew that this was the tale of Isis' renewal, her resurrection. He felt proud to witness such a rebirth, perhaps even to have played some small part.

Stepping into the spotlight, Jason took his part forcefully, singing:

"All of this time, I can't believe I couldn't see,
Kept in the dark, but you were there in front of me…"

Isis' lilting voice soared over his rough baritone in response:

"I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems.
Got to open my eyes to everything…"

Tossing his hair, Jason pounded his chest.

"Without a thought, without a voice, without a soul.
Don't let me die here, there must be something more…"

The hall rang with Isis' final note as it hovered.

"Bring me to life!"

The audience was on their feet before her breath faded into the final strains of the song. Back stage, Terry applauded heartily. She'd certainly earned that statuette for best vocal performance tonight; he was completely blown away by her talent. But his enthusiasm waned when he saw what happened next on stage. When Isis moved to embrace Jason, he took her into his arms, and kissed her mouth passionately, drawing surprised cheers from the crowd. As he released her, she seemed shocked, but covered it immediately as she smiled and waved to the crowd, and hurried into the wings.

Terry wasn't sure what to think until he saw her dark eyes as she came towards him. Her gaze did not waver, and she didn't slow, merely walked into his arms and demanded his kiss, as if to erase the memory of the other man immediately. He indulged her heartily in his relief, took possession of the gift she gave him and returned it in the dramatic spirit of the moment.

When he heard her breath at his ear, Terry whispered, "Incredible."

"You liked the song, Boss?" she wondered. "I hope so. You were part of the inspiration."

"Yeah?" he asked, honestly surprised. "I loved the song, Ice," he breathed, putting his forehead to hers. "But I was talking about the kiss."

Over Isis' shoulder, Terry grinned as she giggled in his ear, and watched Jason Montez stare him down jealously.

When the nominees were read next for Best Song, it seemed an anticlimax for the other band to win. But together, Isis and her band, along with Terry, Jason, and his guys, took the opportunity to sneak out early to the after party. Jason casually tried to join them in the limo, expected to bum a ride, but Isis put a gentle hand on his chest and told him to wait for a cab. "Meet ya on the red carpet, Jase," she said with finality.

In the limousine, Terry poured the first glass of champagne and toasted to her triumph. Isis touched her crystal flute to his and took a sip, but insisted on celebrating with a kiss instead, letting the glass spill on the thick carpet carelessly. It was a long breathless series of kisses this time, mindless of the damage it might cause to makeup now. Undoing his black bow tie, Terry let himself go, leaned Isis back into the soft leather seats and indulged in a moment of high abandon.

Sliding his tongue between her full lips, he let a hand play up her slit silk skirt to the soft skin of her thigh as she brought it up over his hip wantonly. Isis drank his breath, pulled him deeper, and demanded more in this stolen moment. Parting her thighs, she gasped as Terry's fingers honed in, played at the boundary of the barely-there thong, then dipped into her wetness. She gasped in surprise and exultation when his fingertips grazed her clitoris, suddenly alight with wanting. At the welcoming sound, he dipped into her folds to explore the hidden mystery between her legs. Shifting in the seat, she arched her hips for more and moaned when she felt a second finger probing, stroking, until he found the sweet spot deep inside.

Terry never broke their kiss, just let his thumb come up to brush her clitoris again, back and forth, calm, nearly soothing in its rhythm, while his fingers stroked deeply. He listened to her breath quicken, reveled in the moans that escaped her lips, smelled the scent of her arousal. And in a few delicious minutes, her body rocked in a sudden and unexpected explosion of orgasm.

Isis bit back her cries, gripping his broad shoulders for purchase as she panted out the final strains of her release. Terry's blue eyes smiled down on her expression of ecstasy in triumph. He took her breath away again when she felt him withdraw those pleasuring fingers, and watched him raise them to his lips and lick them clean, as if he were lapping frosting from a bowl.

"Ah God, Terry," she gasped into his ear, chased his fingers with her lips.

"Need a taste?" he breathed. "Christ, you come so sweet, Isis."

He felt his own cock move when he fed them to her, groaned with need when she took his fingers between her lips. Terry delighted in the sensation of her pulling mouth, and imagined the pleasures that lay ahead tonight. "An aperitif, love," he grinned as she caught her breath, kissed her face, and breathed heavily into her ear. "Just a taste. Forgive me, I was famished. And after the taste you gave me…" his head ducked down to kiss the swell of her breast. "Well, it was only fair, Ice."

Isis gulped for breath, wanted to beg for him to take her back to the hotel now. But as the car pulled up to the glittering Sony/BMG after party, Terry offered his monogrammed handkerchief again. When she had cleaned between her legs discreetly, he took the cloth and tucked it into his pocket like a prize.

"You are a naughty boy, Terry," she breathed in awe, her fingers playing at the soft hair fringing the base of his neck while he straightened his jacket.

His lips touched hers for a last stolen kiss. "Wait until I get you on the dance floor."

w

Another red carpet, another line of photographers snapping pictures. In the glittering hotel ballroom of the Sony/BMG party, Isis' newly powdered face burned as she held Terry's arm, certain that everyone somehow knew he'd made her come in the limo with the lightest touch just a few minutes ago. But with his black bow tie removed and sunglasses on, Terry looked as calm and unruffled as ever, cool as ice. His confident demeanor steadied her, and for the first time in long memory, living in the fishbowl of her hectic life, Isis Knox felt free.

Once inside, Terry's deep voice came at her ear. "Everything all right, love?"

Her face warmed again. "After that, I need a drink."

"And I need a cigarette," he said with a naughty wink. Catching two glasses of champagne from a waiter's tray, Terry passed one to her and took one for himself.

"Let the schmooze-fest begin," she said in a toast. Catching her producer coming toward them, she called and waved for his attention, "Rick! Over here."

Rick Rubens was a big man with long dark hair and a heavy beard. He looked more like an outlaw biker in his leather jacket than a music mogul, but his eyes were light and playful. Leaning down, he hugged the small woman protectively.

"Ice, you were incredible, baby. But, Jesus, that shit earlier. Court's mom…what a nut job. Are you okay, baby?"

"I'm fine, Rick. Thanks. You use Excelsior Security, right?" she asked. At his nod, she continued. "I did too until I met Terry Thorne. What happened tonight, that was Arthur Kent's fault. He was supposed to be on the crowd, and he let her get by. You and Terry should talk, Rick. You're too important to trust to that sorry bastard."

Isis smiled as Terry shook hands with Rubens. "Rick, good to meet you."

It made her proud that she could look after one of her favorite creative partners and help Terry build his business at the same time. Then behind her, she heard Jason's voice. "Ice, wait up!" Even with his overstep onstage, she remembered her promised to let the photographers get some shots of them together. And she could already hear David Goldman's voice in her mind: Get on the carpet, baby! Sell that new single.

"Excuse me, Terry," she apologized. "I have some work to do, too."

Looking around cautiously, Terry noted Jason waiting in the doorway, eager to pull Isis back in front of the cameras. Something in his gut told him not to let her go alone, but just then, he caught sight of a shock of red hair: Dino in his tux, dark sunglasses shading his eyes, with Chris and Craig in tow.

"Go ahead, love," he encouraged, relieved. "Just don't go too far. Keep your honor guard in sight, all right?"

"You got it, Boss," Isis nodded. Reaching up to touch his face, she petted his closely trimmed beard affectionately and stole a kiss that many in attendance turned to watch. "And keep your ears open for a Latin beat. You owe me a dance."

"Wouldn't miss it," he assured, watched her go in appreciation. What a beautiful arse. Turning back to Rubens, Terry asked, "So Rick, travel much?" The men laughed together in the shared joke of understatement.

Much of the night after their arrival was a blur. Terry tried to keep Isis in sight, but he'd never handed out so many business cards in his life. Each introduction daisy chained to another, and he felt himself being escorted up the corporate ladder to the executives. But no matter what position they held, from personal assistant to VP to CEO, the first question - from the trophy wife or boy toy on the arm - if not from the executive him or herself was, "Are you dating Isis Knox?"

Terry would have preferred to say nothing. In his opinion, it was none of their fucking business. But being politic, he always replied, "We've been working together for some time now. Wasn't she incredible?"

Isis was facing a different round of questions, mostly about her mother-in-law and the events of the early evening. She kept to the boilerplate answer she imagined Goldman would want her to give: "I'm sorry, I can't comment on that due to an ongoing legal matter." To the inquests about a relationship between her and Jason Montez, she just smiled and replied, "Jason and I are old friends. Wasn't he incredible?"

While the party seemed to swirl around her, Isis tried to keep Terry in the corner of her eye, loved to turn and catch his gaze on her. Just a smile, a wink. God, he could make her body flush with just a look. And watching him work, the way he was so totally in control and cool talking to even the most powerful people in the music industry, the whole evening felt like one long session of foreplay. She'd never known a man like him. It was hard to pay attention to Jason's prattling, addressing everyone as dude and bro, when all she wanted to do was stand next to Terry and listen to his deep whiskey voice talk about insurance.

No, it wasn't just the champagne that Jason kept passing her, it was official - she was mad for Terry Thorne.

Isis looked down to the thin gold band on her finger. She felt love, honor, and pride for the memory of her husband, felt Court's loving presence watching over her. But tonight was the night for her to take her place in the land of the living again. Not just the living - the thriving. And with the overwhelming support and concern she got from everyone at the party, she thrilled to the epiphany that though she would always have her detractors, that this is what most people in the world wanted for her: success and happiness.

Over Jason's voice, Isis heard the blaring trumpets and tambuli beat calling her name. Glancing around the room, she saw Terry talking to a beautiful red headed woman, felt a moment's concern and jealousy color her happiness. But at the second beat, she watched his blue eyes find her, connecting instantly, like some laser sighted rifle. Seeing the purpose there, the delight, she felt the smile bloom across her lips. It seemed like her feet were moving across the crowded floor before she even had the nerve to go. Isis felt high, nearly drugged, she was so happy. And the man she was moving towards so single-mindedly was the reason for her happiness.

Terry had been surprised and delighted to find Roslyn Moore in attendance at the party, and he took the opportunity to break from the marathon of business dealing to simply catch up with an old friend. But with Isis' hot gaze upon him, he knew their time was being cut short again.

"Sorry Roz," he interrupted her gently. "I'm afraid I'm needed on the dance floor. But hold on, I've got a new contact or two for you." Putting his earpiece back in, Terry spoke into the microphone. "Uptown, rendezvous at the North quadrant, pronto."

Dino's voice came over the frequency immediately, sounding concerned, "On my way. What's up, T?"

"You'll see," he teased. Terry waved to Isis as she approached, and the Latin rhythm swelled as the dance floor began to fill. He took the eager hand she held out to him, but stopped her before she could tug him out to the dance floor. "Isis, love, I'd like you to meet a good friend of mine, Roslyn Moore. She works for Paramount. You two should chat later."

The women smiled and shook hands. "Congratulations, Miss Knox," Rozzie beamed, luminous in her copper-colored gown. "You were fabulous tonight."

"Thanks, Roslyn," Isis answered, felt her earlier jealousy melt away. "Paramount? I've been in talks with Jim Reed over there off and on for years. Do you know him?"

"He's my boss," Rozzie grinned with a nod. "Yes, we do need to chat. But don't let me keep you from your dance."

Isis took Terry's arm, smiled up to him. "He owes me big time."

Rozzie raised a quizzical brow to her friend and neighbor.

"I do, and I'm terribly late in payment," Terry confessed. Spotting Dino, he waved him over. "And here's the McGrath in Thorne-McGrath. Roslyn Moore, I'd like to introduce my partner, Dean."

Terry watched his best friend's eyes for his tell and caught it. That quick series of blinks that gave him away before the mask of confidence came down. Dino was stunned by Rozzie's beauty, just as he knew he would be.

"So you're Dino," Roz purred in that throaty bedroom voice he loved, her eyes alight.

"Ms. Moore," Dean replied, channeling every ounce of charm into his eyes and voice, taking her hand to kiss. "How can this be the first time we've met? Terry, you selfish prick…"

Roz laughed, surprise and delight on her face.

"Call me superstitious," Terry replied with a grin, patting Dino on the back. He knew sparks would fly once these two finally laid eyes on each other, and he knew he'd probably lose them both. Dino was right, he'd been completely selfish for over a year now, but it was time to let nature take her course - perhaps, he thought suddenly - the course she had planned all along.

Isis watched the exchange with interest, and tugged Terry away at the opportune moment.

Terry excused himself, but Dino caught his arm before he could turn, "Ah, T. Bravo tango?" he asked quietly with an arched brow, using their gentleman's code for 'keep her warm for you?'

Roslyn Moore was exactly Dino's type, and Rozzie would eat him for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Terry just smiled and shook his head, said it low: "Go loud, mate."

The crowd on the dance floor parted for Isis as she led Terry by the hand, then closed in to surround them protectively, like some vast moving shield. She loved that sensation of being a part of a living organism on the dance floor, couldn't remember the last time she'd felt it. When she turned into Terry's arms, she gazed up to him with nervous excitement, but his blue eyes and easy smile were so reassuring.

"No worries, love," he insisted, putting her hand on his shoulder and taking the other in his hand. "You know what you're about. Now just follow me."

Isis heard him count out the familiar steps, and after an initial stumble, her body seemed to remember their long hours of practice and just moved to the music. In a few short measures, they were gliding as one, rocking back with heels and hips. The crowd was at once watching with appreciation, and leaving them to enjoy their dance.

Terry seemed not to notice them at all, concentrating intently on Isis and the lyrics of the song:

They say around the way you've asked for me.
There's even talk about you wanting me.
I must admit that's what I want to hear,
But that's just talk until you take me there.

If it's true don't leave me all alone out here,
Wondering if you're ever gonna take me there.
Tell me what you're feeling cause I need to know.
Girl you gotta let me know which way to go.

"I need to know," Terry sang the lyrics softly, seductively. "I need to know…tell me baby girl, cause I need to know…"

"You know, Boss," she breathed in response.

Isis loved the sound of his deep voice in her ear, the feel of his strong arms around her as he guided her effortlessly through flying spins and dramatic dips. She let her hair whip around her, felt the music with her body, breaking away only to feel him pull her back again by the hips. And she grinned selfishly as she felt him take the opportunity to grind his hips into her backside, the dancing crowd pressing in from all directions to shield them.

Terry was impressed by her natural grace, though she had seemed more surefooted at home. Perhaps it was her shoes, or more likely all the champagne. Still, the way the woman moved, the way she led him with her dark eyes, Christ, she turned him on. Isis seemed more alive tonight than he'd ever seen her. It's the crowd, he realized. She feeds off their energy. But still, he couldn't wait to get her back to the hotel, have her all to himself.

As the Latin music began to fade away, replaced by a hip hop song, Terry gave her a final spin, but Isis nearly slipped. He caught her, and Jason Montez reached out behind with a steadying hand as well, apparently come to cut in.

"Whoa, where'd you learn to dance like that Ice?" Jason laughed. "You gonna cut a Latin record next, mamasita?"

Terry ignored Jason's interruption, looked to Isis with concern. "Are you feeling all right, Ice?"

"I feel wonderful," she said, smiling brilliantly up to him. Wrapping her arms around his waist beneath his open jacket, she found her balance. "Are you having a good time, Terry?"

"Looks like you are," he grinned. "How much have you had to drink, love?"

"A few," she confessed, licking at her lips. "But I'm so thirsty now. Will you get me another glass of wine?"

"I'll get it," Jason insisted, and turned to go.

Leaning close, Terry suggested, "How about some water? If you're thirsty, alcohol will only dehydrate you." He was astonished when her hands moved to his ass, caressed his backside brazenly in front of the on-looking crowd of dancers.

"God, I love your body, Terry," she sighed dramatically. "So sexy. I just can't keep my hands off you. Don't want to."

Retrieving her wandering hands, he whispered, "Look at me, love," and held her face to look hard into her dark eyes. He couldn't see in the dim light, but he suspected that her pupils would be contracted, evidence that she was on some sort of stimulant. Quietly, he asked, "Isis, have you taken anything tonight? Drugs? I'm not angry, I just need to know."

Her delicate brows furrowed, momentarily insulted. "I don't do that shit anymore, Terry. You know that. I'm just high on you." And she laughed, her mood so strangely mercurial. Isis was always hot headed, but he'd never seen her like this.

"Here's your wine, Ice," Jason said as he held the glass in offering.

"Ooh, thanks!" she cooed with excitement and reached for it.

In that moment, Terry deduced what had happened. Something told him that Jason had dosed Isis, put something in her drink. He didn't have any evidence to accuse him directly, but he didn't need any; he just needed to get her away from him. "I think she's had enough," Terry said curtly.

"No," she whined. "I'm so thirsty."

"Come on, man, she wants it," Jason protested, putting the glass directly in her grasping hand. "You're security, not her father. Ease up, suit. We're celebrating."

Casting an eye over his shoulder to the crowd, all absorbed in their own conversations again, Terry reached out and knocked the glass from Isis' hand, distracting her with, "Whoops, clumsy me. Oh dear, look at your dress, love. Come into the loo, let's get you cleaned up."

She looked down, concerned, but Jason caught her arm, tried to pull her away. "Isis, where ya going? Your dress is fine. Come on, this place is lame. Too many suits. Let's find a real party, baby."

Terry's voice was a low growl as he leaned close, unwilling to make a scene. "Get your bloody hands off her, mate. I know what you're about." With his arm around her shoulders, Terry guided her away. Looking for the nearest bathroom, he ducked inside.

Isis giggled as the door locked behind them. Her hands moved up his chest to his broad shoulders, caressing seductively, "Do you want to be alone with me, Terry?"

"Always, love," he replied lightly, humoring her until he could find out what was going on. Finding a paper cup near the sink, he filled it with water. "Here, drink this."

She drank greedily, then filled it up again. "So thirsty," she breathed, then grinned like a fiend when the wild idea came to her. "Let's get in the shower! Come on, Terry. It'll feel so good."

"Isis, wait," he insisted, holding her wrist fast to keep her from climbing into the tub. "Look at me, love." She gazed up to him, her dark eyes filled with adoration. Looking past her expression, he examined her pupils again in the light. Just as he'd suspected: contracted, like pins. Holding her wrist, he took her pulse. It was quick and thready. She was definitely on something.

Unexpectantly, she began to sing, "In your eyes…the light the heat, in your eyes…I am complete…such pretty, pretty eyes, Terry. Mmm…kiss me. God, I want you to kiss me."

"Ah, love," he breathed, leaned to kiss her forehead chastely. "Tell me you trust me."

"I trust you, Terry," she replied compliantly, wrapped her arms around his body.

"Time to go back to the hotel, love."

She raised dark eyes to his, and nodded. "Okay, I'm ready."

Sweeping off his coat, Terry dropped it over her shoulders. Then, holding her tightly to keep her with him, he opened the door. Jason was nowhere in sight.

Isis clutched Terry closely as he guided her through the crowd. She felt the urge to touch everyone she saw, wanted to kiss them all too, but mostly, she wanted to get back to the Beverly Hilton and feel Terry's skin against hers. Her smiling face burned. She felt like everyone knew where she was going and what she'd be doing tonight, but suddenly she didn't care. Isis felt so much love for everyone in attendance at the beautiful party, for the whole world even. She tried to smile, thank those she recognized, and say goodnight, but her vision was blurry. She still felt so thirsty, and her heart raced. Somewhere, her conscious mind began to worry that she might not make it outside to the car under her own power.

"Terry, catch me if I fall, okay?" she warned. "I'm dizzy."

"No worries, love. I've got you."

He walked her as far away from the main entrance as he dared to keep her away from the photographers. Then at the curb, instead of hailing the limo, Terry called Chris and Craig to bring the SUV.

Dino's voice came over the headset. "Everything okay, Downtown? Is she sick?"

"I think she's been dosed," Terry replied. "Someone gave her Ecstasy."

"Take her to the hospital," Dean insisted. "I'm on my way."

"Belay that," Terry said, eyeing Chris and Craig cautiously when they finally pulled up. "She's had enough bad press for one night. I'll take her back to the hotel, keep an eye on her. If she gets worse, I'll call the hotel doctor. Try to keep it quiet."

Dino didn't sound convinced, but relented. Terry imagined him looking into Rozzie's blue eyes with longing. "If you're sure, T."

"I'm sure," he answered. And you have a redhead to attend to.

It took Chris and Terry both to hand her up into the tall SUV, but when Isis was inside safely, Jason reappeared.

"She okay?" he asked, real concern on his face.

"No thanks to you," Terry answered angrily. "What did you give her, Montez? Ecstasy? She's a recovering addict, for Christ's sake. What the hell were you thinking? You could have bloody killed her."

But Jason wasn't admitting anything, put up his hands in defense. "If Isis Knox is stoned, she didn't need any help from me. With her history, no one would believe otherwise," he said. "Besides, she was going to fuck one of us tonight. Guess it's gonna be you."

Terry turned away coldly, moved to open the door, until Montez added: "You should be thanking me."

With those few words, Jason had basically confessed to drugging Isis. It was all the proof Terry needed. Throwing caution to the wind, he turned to drop Jason Montez with one solid punch.

Craig Foster looked on with wide eyes, shocked at his employer's uncharacteristic show of temper. But he was more than impressed when he watched Terry Thorne answer the tense situation with class by taking a business card from his wallet and tossing it to the ground next to the dazed musician holding his quickly blackening eye.

"If you'd like to press charges like a pussy, you know where to find me, mate. Just be prepared to face those I'll bring against you for what you've done."

Author's note: The song that Isis and Jason perform is "Bring Me to Life," by Evanescence. Watch the video at YouTube here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MH1nU4SLN2c