Chapter Two

      Sabina got up the next morning with a feeling of dread. Immediately, her mind raced back to the night before, and her heart burned at the memory of a hard mouth invading hers.

      It had been the first time she’d ever felt like that. How ironic that it should be with a man who was quickly becoming her worst enemy. She had no inclination whatsoever for the lighthearted alliances other women formed. She knew too much about their consequences.

      How odd, that Hamilton Thorndon the Third should think that she was easy. She almost laughed. If there was one woman in the world his money couldn’t get, it was Sabina.

      With drooping eyelids she dragged herself into the exclusive Bourbon Street nightclub where she and the band were working. She’d never felt less like working, but the rehearsals went on regardless.

      It was late afternoon, barely an hour from curtain time, and she was just finishing a tune about lost love, when Al came walking in. He looked as miserable as she felt, and his face looked sullen.

      “Can you spare a minute?” Al asked.

      “Sure,” she said, jumping down from the stage in her satin shorts and top, and black leather boots. “Be right back!” she called to the boys.

      Ricky Turner, the tall, thin bandleader and pianist, waved back. “Ten minutes, no more. We’ve still got two numbers to go over.”

      “Okay,” she agreed. “He worries,” she told Al as they sat down at a nearby table while around them busboys put out napkins and silver and glassware. “He’s terrified that the stage will fall through, or the lights will come down on our heads, or that I’ll trip over a cord and bash in the drums.” She laughed softly. “Concerts are hard on Ricky’s nerves. He’s just started to relax since we’ve been doing this gig.”

      “What happened last night?” Al asked bluntly.

      She flushed and averted her eyes. “Ask your brother.”

      “I did. And he said the same thing. Look, if he hurt you…”

      “I think I hurt him more,” she said angrily. “I hit him just as hard as I could.”

      His eyes widened. “Thorn? You hit Thorn?”

      “Just as hard as—”

      “I get the message. No wonder he was so icy.” He studied her. “He wants to see you.”

      Her mouth dropped. “Oh, he does, does he? Did he say when?”

      “In fifteen minutes. Now, before you go up in flames and say no, listen to me. I called my mother and told her I wanted to bring you to the ranch for a few days over Easter. She called Thorn and talked to him. Apparently he’s ready to back down a little. I think all he wants is to issue you a personal invitation. But if you don’t go to see him, everything’s off. Including,” he added gruffly, “my children’s hospital benefit. I can’t get another backer. Without Thorn, we’ll just have to do a one-night live concert at some theater. We won’t raise nearly enough money that soon. I haven’t told him much about the benefit. He won’t even listen to me right now.”

      “And you think he’ll listen to me?” she said crisply. “And I don’t think I want to spend Easter with your family.”

      “Sure you do. It’ll be great fun. You’ll like my mother.”

      “I’m sure I will, but I don’t like your brother!”

      He sighed. “The new hospital wing would cater to families who can’t afford proper medical care,” he said, eyeing her. “Especially children with fatal illnesses, like cancer. It would boast a research center, as well.”

      Her eyes glittered at him. “Al…”

      “Of course, it will eventually get built. In a few years. Meanwhile a lot of children will have to go to other cities, some won’t be able to get treatment…”

      “I’ll do it, you animal,” she said irritably. “You know I can’t turn my back on any kind of benefit. But if your horrible brother tries to cut me up again, I’ll paste him one!”

      “That’s the girl.” He grinned. “Get over to his office and give it to him!”

      She left him to explain her departure to the band. She was just going out the door, still in costume, when she heard Ricky wail. Sabina quickened her pace and tried not to grin.

      Minutes later, she paused at the door of the plush New Orleans office that housed Thorn Oil’s executive officer. Taking a deep breath, she forced her racing heart to slow down. She told herself not to let her apprehension show or give the enemy any weakness to attack. Anyway, there was no reason to believe that old poisonous Hamilton Regan Thorndon the Third might want anything worse than a pleasant chat.

      She laughed to herself. Sure. He just loved having the youngest son of the family mixed up with a rising young rock star and wanted to tell her so.

      With a resigned sigh, she opened the door and walked into a lavish but sleek office, where a lovely blond receptionist was typing at a computer keyboard.

      “Yes, may I help you?” she asked politely, smiling at Sabina.

      “I’m here to see Hamilton Thorndon the Third,” Sabina said, returning the smile. “I believe he’s expecting me?”

      The blonde looked wary as her eyes examined the slender figure in thigh-high black leather cuffed boots, tight pink satin shorts with a low-cut white satin camisole and silver-beaded vest under a thin jacket. Sabina almost chuckled. The outfit was so outrageous. But she had a performance in less than an hour and no time to change clothes, so the big man would just have to see her in her working garb. Her expression darkened with worry. She had grave misgivings about this. Especially after last night. But this business was best taken care of now. Thorn was the kind of man, from all description, who wouldn’t mind walking up on the stage right in the middle of her nightclub performance to question her.

      “Uh, I’ll announce you,” the blonde stammered, then buzzed the intercom. “Mr. Thorndon, there’s a…” She put her hand over the receiver. “Your name, please?”

      “Tell him it’s Sabina,” she replied in the clear voice that was her trademark.

      “…Miss Sabina here. She says you’re expecting her. Yes, sir.” The receptionist hung up. “Mr. Thorndon will see you. Go right in.”

      Sabina was waved toward a door beside the desk. Smiling coyly at the