“Well…” Confident he simply wished to drive up the price, Julia pursed her lips and donned a nonchalant air. “I’m not really into fairy tales.”
“Oh, you’ll like this one. There’s none like it. That I promise you.”
After a sufficient pause to prove her reluctance, she said, “Sure, why not?”
His eyes lit with amusement, as if he knew her game. “Story is, when a woman owns this here jewelry box, she’ll find the greatest pleasure ever known.”
Julia waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she said, “That’s it? That’s the big story? Own the box and find great pleasure?” For fifty dollars, she’d expected a story about naked dancers, bowls of cocaine and wild orgies. Disappointment coiled through her. “Just what is the greatest pleasure ever known?”
“I don’t rightly know.” He scratched his beard. A rain-scented breeze that reminded her of the calm after a storm wafted her way. “I guess pleasure’s different for everyone. Who’s to say?”
“The last female owner, I suppose.”
“Well, now, she lost her soul, so I canna be asking her, can I?”
“Lost her—oh. I’m so sorry for your loss,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.”
“No, no. No need to be sorry. She was an ancestor of mine, you could say. I like to call her Granny Greedy.” He chuckled at his own joke. “Family legend says she created the box and kept it with her at all times, never letting it out of her sight. When she died, the damn thing had to be pried out of her fingers.” He barely paused before adding, “What’s your name, lass?”
“Julia Anderson.”
“Well, Jules me girl, I’ll be honest with you. I think you need this here box more than you realize. Great pleasure will put some color in those cheeks. Maybe put a sparkle in those eyes. So, are you interested in buying or not?”
Julia tried not to be insulted; she really did. She might not have any hobbies outside of work, and she might spend every evening in bed, reading sexy romance novels and watching made-for-TV movies, but she did have pleasure in her life. At the moment, she just couldn’t recall any.
“Thirty,” a nasally voice said from behind her. Julia spun around. The Mustang’s owner gave her a smug I’ve-got-you-beat-this-time grin. “I’ll pay thirty for it.”
“Well, lass?” the salesman prompted, giving her a chance to outbid.
After haggling for half an hour over the price, Julia finally paid seventy-three dollars—plus fifteen for the pipe. She’d been robbed. She knew it, just as she knew her opponent hadn’t really wanted the box. He’d wanted retribution, and he’d gotten it. She hadn’t been able to walk away without owning the “greatest pleasure.”
The moment she arrived home, an all-too-familiar anticipation filled her. She carefully placed her new purchases on the kitchen table, then gathered a rag and cleaning supplies. The bark of her neighbor’s dog pierced the air. Dappled midday sun streamed through the sapphire curtains that covered the large bay window on the far wall. Settling into a high-backed gold velvet chair, she cleaned every inch of the jewelry box with painstaking gentleness. There was something almost…magical about it. And she would swear it purred every time she stroked the corners.
Just as she began adding polish to the outer surface, she zeroed in on a tiny button hidden beneath the rim. She stilled, her heart drumming erratically in her chest. Excitement pounded through her veins. Would a push of the button open the lid? And if so, what would she find inside? Jewelry? Love letters? Nothing?
With shaky hands, she set aside her rag and pressed the button.
At the moment of contact, lights flickered on and off throughout the house, dancing shadows and light on the rose-tinted wallpaper. A pulsating purplish mist rose from the box, filling her entire kitchen.
Startled, Julia jumped to her feet, dropping the jewelry box as if it were nuclear waste. Was it? Instead of shattering, it landed atop the honey oak tabletop with a thud. She lifted her gaze…and froze in terror.
A man—a large man—a very large man—stood just in front of her. He spun, checking out his surroundings. He wore nothing more than a pair of black skintight pants and—wow! A long, menacing sword dangled between his shoulders.
A scream rose in her throat at the exact moment a hard lump formed, preventing any sound from emerging.
Wheezing with terror, she scanned the kitchen, looking for a way out. The back door was too far and bolted shut. The windows were closed. What to do? What the freak to do?
Sweat beaded across her forehead.
It didn’t matter that the man was, well…gorgeous, that his seductiveness hit her like an uncontrollable whirlwind, knocking her back a step. He didn’t belong here, didn’t belong in her home. Alone. With her. Panic intensifying, she assumed a karate position and prayed with every fiber of her being that she appeared menacing and lethal.
Why had she never taken self-defense lessons? Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“I know martial arts,” she forced out. “My body is a dangerous weapon.”
He merely arched a brow, all Are you sure?
He knows I’m lying. At least she could memorize his description just in case she survived. Concentrate. His towering height almost made him level with the ceiling. Inky shoulder-length hair framed a strong forehead, a straight nose and high, bladelike cheekbones.
Yet it was his eyes that truly drew her attention. They were pale violet, almost lavender—wait. They were blue, a light aqua. No, no. They were emerald green. But that wasn’t right, either. She blinked, shook her head and realized his eyes weren’t one color. They were all colors, shimmering in the light, only certain colors highlighted at certain times; those irises glowed with a life of their own, catching her attention until she forgot where she stood—and why she was standing
