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“He left me a dying business, Sierra.”

“Don't you get it? You said, yourself, Burns was more important to him than anything else. Your father knew that you were the only one who had a chance of saving it. In the end he put his reputation and the fortunes of the entire family in your hands.”

SOMETIME LATER HE LOUNGED AGAINST THE RAILING OF Sierra's little balcony, letting the psi-rich night envelop him. Elvis sat beside him, clutching his miniature guitar in one paw. The fog was the heaviest it had been all month.

When he looked over the edge of the railing, he could see the green glow of the sign above Simon Lugg's tavern, but it was impossible to make out the words
Green Gate
. He could hear people coming and going from the establishment, but they were no more than faint shadows in the mist.

He looked at the delicate crystal glass in his hand. It was half-filled with Amber Dew, a rare and very pricey after-dinner liqueur. Like the expensive wine, he had brought it along tonight to help celebrate the day's victory. He had planned to share the triumph with Sierra. That was why he had not taken her out to dinner. He had wanted to be alone with her.

He had not wanted to talk about Burns & Co.

“All in all,” he said to Elvis, “the plan did not go well.”

Elvis made a little rumbling noise in what sounded like a commiserating tone.

“There was a plan?” Sierra said from the doorway.

He turned his head to look at her. “I'm a Guild boss. There's always a plan.”

She smiled in the shadows and walked toward him. He opened his senses, unable to resist the unique, enthralling aura of feminine mystery. The sweet, hot, exciting energy aroused everything inside him, just as it had the first time she had entered his office. But the pull, the sensation of a psychic link between them, was so much stronger now than it had been that first day. He sensed that the bond was only going to grow more powerful with time. The part of him that comprehended the nuances of strategy and risk-taking was waving a red flag of warning. He had two options: cut his losses fast or stick around and hope that Sierra felt at least some of what he was feeling.

No doubt about it. The smart move would be to bail while the bailing was good. But sometimes you ignored the odds.

“What was the plan?” she asked, coming to a halt at the railing.

“I wanted to talk about some things tonight,” he said. “Things that had nothing to do with Burns & Co.”

“I'm sorry,” she said quietly. “I realize my timing was bad. It's just that your brother seemed so anxious, and the whole situation sounded very urgent.”

“I'd rather you didn't refer to Nick as my brother.”

Her eyes widened. “But he is your brother.”

“Technically speaking, he's my half brother. Believe me, on the rare occasions when we think of each other, it is strictly in technical terms.”

She searched his face. “You have no sense of a family connection with him?”

“Why would I? I've only met him and the others twice. Once at my father's funeral and once in the lawyer's office afterward.”

“I see.” She turned away to look down at the Green Gate. “Well, I've said my piece. I promise you I won't mention Nick or Burns & Co. again.”

She sounded truly chagrined. It was her determination to abide by the vow that made him smile.

“Right,” he said.

“What's so funny?”

“The thought of you trying to keep silent about Nick and the business.”

She raised her chin. “You don't think I can do it?”

“No. Sooner or later you'll bring up both subjects again.”

Her brows snapped together above the dark frames of her glasses. “How do you know?”

“Because you won't be able to help yourself.” He laughed. “You are what you are.”

“And just what is that?”

“Goal-oriented, just like me. Just like the others in your family. You can't rest until you've achieved your objective and, at the moment, your objective is to convince me to save Burns & Co. For my own good, of course. Your fancy, high-grade intuition is probably telling you that I'll get some of what the para-shrinks like to call closure out of the whole thing.”

Her mouth opened, shut, and opened again.

“What are you talking about?” she finally managed. “I'm not like you or anyone else in my family. I'm a walking definition of the word
underachiever
. Just ask anyone.”

“I don't have to ask around.” He rested both elbows on the railing. “You're the living, breathing definition of
achiever
. The only difference between you and the rest of us is your goals.” He held up one hand to silence her. “And before you start arguing with me, remember that I'm where I am today because I'm damn good at figuring out what people want.”

She folded her arms and bristled. There was no other word for it.

“What do you think I want?” she asked.

“To make the world a better place. Justice for those who can't get it for themselves. Help for people like Jake Tanner and the other hunters who disappeared. In short, you're a classic do-gooder.”

“And you think do-gooders are naive, gullible, unrealistic, and downright pesky.”

“I didn't say that.” He paused, the glass halfway to his mouth. “Although, now that you mention it—”

“If you feel that way about me, I'm surprised you didn't file for immediate termination of our marriage this afternoon when you came out of Patterson's office. In fact, why are you even here in my apartment tonight?”

“I haven't made any move to terminate our MC because I like being married to you.”

She blinked. “You do?”

“I'm hoping that the reason you didn't rush out to file for divorce yourself today is because you aren't one hundred percent opposed to the idea of being married to me.”

“No.” She swallowed. “No, I'm not opposed to the idea.”

“Okay, that settles that. We're staying married for a while.”

“In spite of the fact that I may not be able to resist urging you to try to rescue Burns & Co.?”

“In spite of that.”

“Gee, Fontana, I don't know what to say. This is all so romantic. You're really sweeping me off my feet here.”

“No rule says a Guild boss can't be romantic.”

“My comment was intended to be taken as thinly veiled sarcasm.”

He pulled her into his arms. “I'll give you a little tip.”

“Yes?”

“When you use sarcasm with a Guild chief, you have to unveil it.”

She smiled. “I'll remember that next time.”

He kissed her before she could say another word. Her mouth was soft and warm and inviting under his. After a moment he picked her up and carried her indoors and down the hall to the shadowy bedroom.

It wasn't a full and complete victory, he thought, more like a strategic move in a delicately balanced game of chess. But it would do for now.

SHE CAME AWAKE TO THE REALIZATION THAT SHE WAS alone in the bed. When she opened her eyes, she saw Fontana silhouetted against the window. He wore his briefs but nothing else. Elvis was perched beside him on the sill. They were both looking out into the solid wall of luminous fog. A couple of hunters bonding in the night.

She pushed back the covers and sat up on the side of the bed. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing.” Fontana looked at her over his shoulder. “I'm just doing a little thinking.”

She got to her feet and walked across the room to join him. “What about?”

“My big plan. The one I intended to talk to you about tonight.”

She stilled. “I thought the plan was for us to stay married for a while.”

“It was actually a little more complicated than that.” Her intuition hummed. Whatever this was about, it was important to him. She tried and failed to squelch the little spark of hope that leaped to life within her. Maybe he was beginning to understand that what they had was very, very special.

“More complicated than an MC?” she asked.

He thought about that briefly and then shook his head. “I doubt if there's anything more complicated than an MC.”

“What was the rest of your plan?”

He draped an arm around her shoulders. “I'm going to offer you a job.”

“Doing what, for heaven's sake
?
”

“Managing the Guild's charitable foundation.”

So much for her intuition.

“Are you kidding?” She waved her arms. “The Foundation is a joke. Jenner used it as a private slush fund for bribing politicians and shady CEOs. Hardly any money trickled down to legitimate charities.”

“I'm aware of that. The Foundation needs to be cleaned up. Who better to do it than someone who really cares about doing good with the Guild's money?”

“Huh.”

“You're a natural for that job.”

“Huh.”

“I should warn you that it's going to be a full-time position. You would have to give up journalism.”

“Huh.”

“Any questions?” he asked.

“I don't know where to start. The thought of working for the Guild is, well, it's mind-boggling.”

“More mind-boggling than being married to the boss?”

She contemplated the matter closely for a moment. “Guess not.”

“If it doesn't work out, I'm sure you could always go back to the
Curtain
.”

“Huh,” she repeated. “I'll have to think about it.”

“You do that.” He dropped a kiss into her hair. His hand closed gently around her breast. Heat and longing rose inside her. Energy flared. So did suspicion.

“Fontana?”

“Hmm?” he nuzzled her ear.

“This isn't some sneaky scheme to stop me from pursuing my investigative reporting on the Guild, is it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You're sure? Because when I see things going on that I don't approve of, I won't keep silent just because I'm married to you and working for the Guild.”

“You have my word of honor that giving you the job has nothing whatsoever to do with trying to keep you quiet.” He kissed her throat. “I've got something else in mind to achieve that objective.”

A shivery thrill swept through her. “Is that so?”

His hands slid down to close around her buttocks. He lifted her up against him so that she was left in no doubt about his state of arousal.

“Probably won't work,” he said. “But I figure it's worth a try. A lot of tries, in fact.”

“Does this strategy involve sex?”

“How did you guess?”

He carried her back to the bed, settled her down on the tumbled sheets, and lowered himself slowly on top of her. She wrapped one leg around his bare thigh, thrilling to the weight of his body on hers.

He cradled her face between his hands and kissed her long and hungrily. By the time he raised his head, she was breathless and tingling. He had come free of his briefs. She could feel him hard and rigid against her leg. She reached down and stroked him, savoring the broad length of him. The knowledge that he wanted her so fiercely sent a rush of pleasure through all of her senses.

They twisted and coiled in the shadows for a time, growing hot and damp together. Abruptly Fontana pulled free and started to work his way down her body. He left searing kisses on her breasts and belly. By the time he reached his destination, she was shivering with need; so tightly rezzed she thought she would shatter. He eased two big fingers inside her, probing gently.

“I love your scent,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I can't get enough of you.”

And then his mouth was on her in the most intimate of kisses. The sensation was so overwhelming she cried out and clenched her hands in his hair.

“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, please, there.
There
.”

The sweet tension that had built inside her came undone in a series of pulsing waves.

She gasped and cried out, amazed and astonished all over again that he could do this to her.

When the climax was nearly finished, he moved back up her body and thrust heavily into her. She was exquisitely sensitized. The sensual invasion was the most erotic feeling she had ever experienced. The pressure took her to the delicate point of balance that separated extreme pleasure from pain. Before she could decide which it was that she felt, Fontana's own climax struck. The muscles of his back hardened into sculpted stone beneath her hands.

She heard his harsh, muffled exclamation: satisfaction, triumph, and surrender inextricably entwined.

Together they fell into the sea of night.

“HELL OF A FIRE,” NICK SAID. “BURNED RIGHT DOWN TO the foundation.”

“Arson,” Fontana said.

“Heard that.” Nick's serious expression did not alter by so much as the flicker of an eyelash. “Caused by aliens, according to your wife's paper.”

“Never underestimate the investigative reporting in the
Curtain.
”

They both looked at the charred ruins of the mansion. The only thing still standing was the massive stone fireplace. It projected upward into the fog, defying the destructive force of the fire to the end. Everything else had collapsed into the basement.

The good news, Fontana decided, was that the pile of blackened rubble hid the old staircase that led down into the catacombs.

“Planning to rebuild?” Nick asked, studying the scene.