NATALIE STOPPED in the hallway outside the suite of offices and tried to regain her composure. Her lips still burned with the feel of Sartain’s mouth on hers and the memory of the fierce desire he’d raised in her left her shaking.

      Was it the man himself or only the situation in which they’d found themselves that had affected her this way? She’d been shocked at her first sight of the dungeon—as he’d no doubt intended. Then she’d recognized the black humor of the moment—the juvenile fun of scaring oneself that made haunted houses and horror movies so popular.

      She’d wondered about the connection between Sartain’s appreciation for the dungeon and his rumored sexual proclivities, and had been bold enough to ask him about it. His answer had stirred her more than she cared to admit. All his talk of the freedom to be gained by surrender spoke to her own longing to rebel against the restrictions she’d operated under all her life. Self-control and mastery over her own body had kept her safe when she was performing on the high trapeze, but how often had it held her back from the pure joy of her art?

      Then the lights had flickered and the familiar terror had overtaken her. Vertigo made her head swim, as if she was falling, and a scream tore from her throat before she could bite it back. Part of her mind knew she was in no danger but that part held no sway over the fear that had been a fixture in her life since her accident.

      She’d welcomed Sartain’s arms around her, so solid and comforting. His strength and calmness wrapped around her like a blanket. Then on the heels of her retreating panic came fierce desire, the need to revel in everything that made her feel so alive.

      For a moment, in Sartain’s arms, she had glimpsed the ecstasy of abandon, every bit as exhilarating as her first leap into space from the trapeze tower.

      And then the lights had flickered on, reminding her of the danger of falling, and she’d drawn back, shocked at her behavior, and at Sartain’s.

      She tried to remain angry with him, to convince herself he’d taken advantage of her when she was in a vulnerable position. But the memory of the pull between them, of the powerful attraction that was almost outside of their control, dulled her rage. Sartain was a man with a known appetite for women, and she was a woman who hadn’t been with a man in a very long time. That alone was probably a powerful enough combination to create sparks.

      “Natalie, I’ve been looking for you.”

      Doug’s appearance at the end of the hallway startled her. She straightened her shoulders and pasted a smile on her face. “Hello, Doug. Sartain was just showing me the castle.”

      Doug glanced past her, his expression gloomy. “He showed you the dungeon?”

      She laughed, though the sound was forced and brittle even to her own ears. “He enjoys playing the eccentric, doesn’t he?”

      Doug moved closer, frown lines etched deep on his forehead. “Are you all right? He didn’t try anything, did he?”

      She shook her head, avoiding meeting Doug’s gaze. “Of course not.” Sartain hadn’t had to try very hard. She’d welcomed the kiss, welcomed the chance to explore the feelings he kindled in her. Never mind that doing so was wrong. She’d spent so many years always doing what was right, and what had that gotten her? Not love or happiness or any of the things she really wanted in life.

      Doug gave her a fatherly pat on the shoulder. “If he does, you tell me. I’ll make sure he behaves. I’ve already warned him you’re not one of his models. You deserve his respect.”

      And why is that? she thought silently, but refrained from saying as much. For as long as she could remember, Doug had tended to be overprotective of her, to the consternation of Gigi. “You’re my agent,” Natalie’s mother would say. “Why would you concern yourself with my little girl?”

      Why indeed? Natalie had often wondered. In the end, she’d decided that Doug, who had never married, and who had no children of his own, saw her as someone on whom he could spend any stray paternal feelings.

      However, she was certainly old enough now not to need his misplaced protection. “I can handle Sartain,” she said firmly. “I’m sure he won’t give me any problems.”

      Whatever feelings she had for her boss, they were no doubt fueled by the novelty of her situation, a reaction to the unaccustomed freedom of living on her own for the first time ever. She’d soon get her feelings under control and behave in a more professional manner.

      As for Sartain, she was sure he would soon find some model or other woman upon which to focus his attention. Someone who viewed his darker passions with more than curiosity.