Valentina flattened two fingers against each eye and forced them closed. How shameless, using her sister to force her cooperation.

The bastard.

They could not escape until she complied.

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and dropped her hands. He examined her expression and what he saw must have amused him, because he smiled. Indifferent to his amusement, she leaned back. She focused on the ceiling to distance herself from his stare.

“I have waited several months for you.” He dragged up a chair and sat across from her. His muscular legs brushed against hers. “I ask for a truce between us.”

He reached out his hands to her across the table.
Valentina had gotten used to the gadjes’ unfamiliar smells and filthy palms. All strangers. She breathed the nearness of him—a manly scent of earth and leather.

His palms were clean.

“And if I refuse?” she asked.
His masculine fingers stroked her hands. “Then we will continue with this come the morrow, and the day after the morrow—as long as it takes.”

His touch felt possessive—strong and controlling.


  1. Beth Trissel // November 18, 2008 at 10:25 AM  

    Way to go, joanne. This story is so great.

  2. Mary Ricksen // November 18, 2008 at 12:41 PM  

    More, more, more, that was just a tease!

  3. Joanne // November 19, 2008 at 9:04 AM  

    Thank you, ladies!

  4. Mary Marvella // November 19, 2008 at 1:02 PM  

    I'll tell him anything he wants to know!