Gena Showalter Bundle: The Stone Prince / The Pleasure Slave / Heart of the Dragon

Katie choked on her water.

Jorlan frowned.

When her air passage cleared, Katie smiled up at Frances. “I’ll have to tell that one to my brothers.”

“I thought you’d like it.”

“If you ever need a break from the café,” Katie said, still grinning, “come talk to me. I’m restoring the old house on Gossamer Lane and could use the help. And the entertainment.”

“Really? Seriously?”

“Absolutely.” Katie usually hired outside help for renovation and restoration when she purchased a new house. For some reason, she’d been reluctant to hire anyone for the Victorian, wanting instead to do the work herself. But the sheer elation in Frances’s eyes convinced her to stick with her usual method. “You could start anytime.”

“I might take you up on that.” Frances beamed. Then, with another meaningful glance to Jorlan, she sauntered away, leaving behind the echo of her happy whistle.

Jorlan’s features darkened with ire. “That woman needs a keeper.”

“You think every woman needs a keeper,” Katie replied dryly. Her gaze flicked to him, observant and narrowed. “Did you ever consider the possibility that your men-are-superior views are stupid?”

“Nay.” He answered with absolutely no hesitation.

“Figures.” She had anticipated such an answer, yet had hoped he would surprise her. “Look, some men are not honorable and often mentally and physically abuse a woman in an attempt to break her will. Is that the kind of keeper you would have for Frances?” Caught up in her speech, Katie leaned into him, even pointed a finger in his chest. “Just because a woman has spirit, does not mean she needs a man to guide her.”

“Aye, it does.” Jorlan, too, leaned forward. Their noses touched, sending a jolt of awareness through her system. He grabbed her finger and held the appendage captive in the warmth of his hand. “If a woman pushes a man beyond his control, she risks physical injury.”

“And a guardian would keep her safe?”

“Aye.”

Katie let out her breath sharply. “Even from himself?”

“Aye. Even from himself.” The blue of his eyes clouded with silver and gray. “A warrior trained in the art of battle will save a woman from the very danger she herself creates.”

The noise of the café faded from her ears as she concentrated on the man before her. “But, Jorlan, with your logic, a woman wouldn’t need a keeper if a warrior simply controlled himself.”

Jorlan paused, considering her words. When their meal was delivered, Katie’s voice still echoed in his mind. A woman wouldn’t need a keeper if a warrior simply controlled himself. There was truth to what she’d said, though such ideology contradicted the entire Imperian way of life, a way of life that suggested men were men and women were weak.

He had much to think on.

A wondrous aroma drifted into his nostrils. Frances, the aging servant, tossed numerous plates in his direction. Several pieces of food flopped to the table. His stomach rumbled. Ravenous, he made short work of every bite, nibble and crumb, relishing the taste, texture and color. The light-brown squares filled with dark-blue spheres were his favorite. Katie, he noticed, ate only a plain omelet and drank a mug of light green, clumpy liquid. With each gulp, she closed her eyes and uttered a wordless exclamation of ecstasy. He considered dousing his body in the murky-looking concoction.

“Now that one need is satisfied, I need only a nice, leisurely pummeling to feel complete,” he said. “Mayhap the girl would be interested.”

Katie scowled.

He almost laughed. ’Twas the action of a possessive woman, and one that filled him with hope. Soon…oh, aye, soon Katie’s love would belong to him.

“Keep in mind,” Katie bit out, “that you have no money. Women do not sleep with poor men.”

“Then I shall acquire riches.”

“As if it’s that easy! First of all, no one but me will hire you. Second, any money you make belongs to me to reimburse me for your food and shelter. I’m not a woman who will support a man while he does nothing except watch TV, lay on the couch and drink beer.”

“So you wish to hire me?”

“Yes,” she said after a moment’s hesitation.

“Do you, by chance, wish me to labor in the bedchamber?”

She threw her hands into the air. “No! The work I’m offering you has nothing to do with being naked, getting naked, or getting each other naked.”

Her dictate left many wonderful possibilities, for at times, clothing offered just as much, if not more, stimulation than flesh. Aye, he could very well imagine her with a long, shimmery blue gown draped over her curves, covering every inch of her. Slowly he would raise the gown’s hem. Higher. Higher still. Not ever making her naked, but slowly revealing the succulent skin of her calves, her thighs, and then her—

“You can get that perverted gleam out of your eyes,” she ground out, slapping her hand onto the table with a thump. Glasses clanged together. “You’ll paint, put up siding, lay tile, shingle or whatever I happen to need done. To the house,” she added, “not to me. And I don’t want to hear any complaints.”

Complain? About physical labor? When his body already hummed with excitement, vibrated with too much energy? “Exercising my muscles holds great appeal, katya. I will do whatever needs to be done, no matter that you are impudent in the asking of it.”

For a long while, she said nothing. Then she sighed, a long drawn-out sigh. “Look, I don’t mean to be so snappy, Jorlan. I really don’t. I just don’t know what to do about you.” She tossed green paper onto the table surface. “Come on. We’ve got a lot of work to do today.” She slid across the seat and stood.

He pushed easily to his feet.

Their gazes locked for one heartbeat before she turned away and headed for the exit. Jorlan had only taken four steps when someone grabbed his forearm. He spun, clutching the weapon at his waist without actually removing it.

The redhead smiled up at him.

He relaxed his warrior stance.

“Hey,” she said, her voice throaty and seductive. “I’m Heather.”

’Twas the type of reception he was used to receiving. He returned her smile. “’Tis my pleasure to meet you, Heather. I am called—”

“I know who you are. You’re Hunter Rains, the self-help guy. Twelve steps to a better you, and all that. I recognized you the moment I saw you.” She looked down at her feet, suddenly shy. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I’ve read your book and I know you’re from Australia. I’d be glad to show you around Dallas. I’m—”

Katie had spun around at Heather’s first words and now stood directly beside Jorlan. Her eyes went molten, then icy. “He’s not available.”

Heather never even glanced Katie’s way; she just blinked up at Jorlan. “Are you? Unavailable, I mean?”

He didn’t answer right away. Too much did he enjoy Katie’s jealousy.

“I’ll be waiting in the truck,” Katie snapped. She swirled on her heel and strode outside.

Jorlan faced the little redhead again. Here was a woman like those of his world. Willing to please. More than likely, she would do whatever he asked if he showed the slightest bit of interest. Yet he felt nothing, not even a faint stirring of lust.

“Though I may come to regret these words,” he said when his body failed to respond to the girl’s nearness, “I am indeed unavailable.”

“But the woman you’re with is so…tall and plain.”

“Plain?” He chuckled. “Her beauty is endless.”