If Emma gave her word, there was no question she would carry it out. If Emma married him, there would be no cheating, no leaving, no breaking of her vows.

“You met Andrew and married him.” Changing her last name, making her more difficult to trace. “I’m sorry, Emma, that must have been so difficult.” He transferred his hand to her hair, sliding over the silky strands. The action soothed him almost as much as it did her. He felt tension slipping from his body. “Did your mother always like leopards? Is that where you got your love of sketching leopards as well?” He wanted her to remember her mother that way, something beautiful they shared together.

“Yes, but she never did one like the painting I did for you, the half man and half leopard. She loved big cats. She painted amazing lifelike pictures of them, but none with a half-human, half-cat face. I just think sometimes you have a stillness about you, and the way you move, like water over sand, fluid and silent—that reminds me of a leopard.”

“Not a tiger?” he asked curiously. Emma’s insights were one of the things he admired in her. She had amazing instincts. He was beginning to think Drake might be right about Emma, and it if was true, he didn’t know if that would help his cause or make it more difficult.

“Leopards are more unpredictable.” Her lashes lifted. Fluttered. He could see amusement in her green eyes. Cat’s eyes. “And have bad tempers.”

He heard the smile in her voice and bent closer to inhale her fragrance. Sometimes he wanted to take her happiness into his lungs, to fill his body, his bloodstream, to keep for his own. He didn’t know how to be happy. He was fiercely protective, maybe too much so to be happy. He had built an empire, and he guarded it ferociously, but he was always aware his enemies were circling. Emma had gone through a terrible ordeal, yet she still had the capacity to love, to tease, to find happiness and fun.

“I don’t have a bad temper. I just like things done a certain way.”

She made a little moue with her lips and his heart lurched. His blood surged hotly and his cock jerked, hot and hard and fully awakened. Jake took a breath and let it out, sliding his palm down her arm to tangle his fingers with hers so he wouldn’t cup the temptation of her breast. He had to go slow, let her get used to the idea of a man in her life again. She hadn’t been ready, but he’d planted the seed and hopefully she’d let go of Andrew, and Jake would be there for her.

Truthfully, he’d been with her much longer than Andrew. She’d known her husband only a couple of months before they’d married, and she’d been with him five months before his death. Emma had shared Jake’s life for more than two years. Andrew had been a boy, not a man, and as sweet as he’d been to Emma, she needed a man.

Jake could tell she was fairly inexperienced when it came to sex. He’d bet his life that she’d been a virgin when she met Andrew. The things he wanted to do to her would probably shock her. He brought her hand up to his mouth and chewed on the tips of her fingers.

“You’re very oral,” she whispered, amusement in her voice.

She sounded sleepy, and he knew she was drifting or she never would have made the uncensored comment, and she sure wouldn’t have told him about the way her parents had died.

“You have no idea, honey,” he whispered, deliberately wicked, and leaned in close to tease at the soft, vulnerable spot where her shoulder met her neck. His tongue licked at her warm skin, filling him with her taste so that he couldn’t resist rubbing his lips over the spot.

She lifted her shoulder slightly, but she had already drifted too far into sleep to do more than that slight protest. Jake allowed his teeth to scrape back and forth before biting down gently. The leopard in him urged him to do more, to leave his mark on her, to proclaim ownership, but Jake lifted his head enough to give himself breathing room.

“Sleep well, honey,” he whispered. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

9

“DADDY, what’s illoment mean?” Kyle asked.

Jake frowned and looked up at Emma for an interpretation. She seemed to always know exactly what the children were saying. She was leaning in the doorway, watching him unwrap the small presents from the squealing children while he sat on Kyle’s bed with them. Andraya threw herself into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging like a monkey, while Kyle stared earnestly up at his face.

Emma looked good enough to eat, and since he’d lain awake most of the night thinking of her lying on her bed clothed in her thin pajamas with nothing else beneath them, he found himself very hungry. She stirred and looked uncomfortable, shrugging her shoulders and giving him a small shake of her head.

“Is everyone ready for breakfast?” She sounded cheerful—too cheerful.

Jake’s gaze narrowed on her face. She knew exactly what Kyle had asked. She didn’t want to answer. He turned back to Kyle. “Who said that word to you?”

“The bad lady.”

Jake jerked his head up again and glared at Emma. “The bad lady,” he echoed, looking at Emma instead of his son. “What bad lady?”

“Kyle,” Emma intervened.

Jake held up his hand, signaling Emma to silence as he slowly stood with Andraya still in his arms, his large frame dominating the room. “What bad lady, Kyle?” Jake asked, his voice deceptively gentle.

“The one that makes Mommy cry.”

There was dead silence in the room. No one moved, not even Andraya. Jake fought down the volcano that threatened to explode. He took a breath, counted to ten and let it out. “Susan?” He raised his voice, calling out into the hall, never once taking his eyes from Emma’s pale face.