“Emma.” He whispered her name aloud, craving her, the way she smiled, her scent, the sound of her voice, the laughter that always included him.

She had come to be his home. He actually looked forward to opening the kitchen door and finding his food carefully prepared. She paid attention to what his favorite dishes were. She arranged the house to suit him and helped him relate better to the children, and she did it all quietly, smoothly.

He hadn’t even noticed the differences at first, but he remembered the moment it struck him, the total silence when he’d come home to a vacant house. The house was enormous, a mansion, a showpiece, as cold as hell and just as empty. He had never bothered to hire a cook because he didn’t trust anyone. And then along came Emma, with her laughter and joy, and the house with filled with music and scents and the patter of feet.

The babies hugged him, their faces lighting up when he returned home—because of her. Emma. She taught them by her example. Where he was taking care of her, she was caring for him and teaching the children to do the same. Her face lit up when she saw him. There was that soft, welcoming note in her voice he’d come to rely on. When he was moody and edgy and being a complete bastard, instead of getting angry with him, she would smile at him and tell him she’d take the children upstairs so he could have some peace. Or she’d tease him, or rub his shoulders. But she never blamed him. Sometimes she’d even tease him and order him out, and he loved those times best. They made him feel part of something—loved.

Her bedroom was his favorite place. Her scent was all over it, and when he lay on her bed and buried his face in her pillow, he could take her deep into his lungs. Before she had come, he’d spent most nights pacing off excess energy, both sexual and emotional. He had too many memories and he couldn’t seem to shut them out in the night. But now he could lie in the dark with her body warm and soft beside him, talking for long hours into the night, and feel at peace. He’d never had that before, and if she left him, he would never have it again. He’d risked everything by being too primitive and forgetting her inexperience.

Jake pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and went to her room, padding on bare feet down the hall, careful to maintain silence, not wanting to alert her to his presence. Her door was ajar and he slipped inside. He knew instantly the room was empty. The faint scent of her lingered behind, but there was only silence and the white sheet of paper in the center of her still-made bed. He picked it up, eyes scanning it briefly, feeling the blow like a punch to his gut.

Damn her. She wasn’t leaving the ranch. Not tonight. Not when she was upset with him and he hadn’t had a chance to make his case. He was a businessman. He’d been in a thousand boardrooms. He could close a deal, but not if she got off the ranch. He picked up the phone, his jaw set, his expression savage.

EMMA stuck her head out the window and forced a smile at Jerico. “Open the gates.”

To her astonishment, Jerico shook his head, a small grimace on his face. “I can’t do that, Emma. Where would you be going this time of night?”

She scowled at him. “It isn’t your business.”

“I’m responsible,” Jerico said. “I don’t want to lose my job.”

Emma let her breath out slowly, forcing her temper under control. It wasn’t Jerico’s fault. He had to follow rules just like everyone. “I’m going for a drive.” It wasn’t his fault that she was so upset. It was her own fault. Hers. She loathed herself, but she managed a small smile, hoping to charm him. “Please open the gate.”

“I can’t do that. I’m sorry. The boss said not to let you leave.”

Emma’s eyebrow went up. “Contrary to popular belief, Jerico, I don’t work for Jake. He can’t boss me around. Open the gate.”

Jerico shook his head, although he did look remorseful. “You don’t even have a bodyguard with you. He said you weren’t to leave under any circumstances unless he specifically okayed it. If you’re having trouble with the boss . . .”

Emma slid out of the Jeep and slammed the door. “Jake actually ordered you to keep me here, on the ranch? Like a prisoner? Open the gate now, Jerico. I want to leave. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a grown woman, not a child.”

“Emma . . .”

“Is there a problem, Emma?” Drake came up behind her in his silent way.

Emma whirled to face him, caught in the headlights of her vehicle. His gaze dwelled on the marks on her neck—bright red and obvious—the bite mark on her shoulder. He inhaled and stiffened, his gaze shifting to Jerico and then looking warily around him. He even stepped back a few paces, putting distance between them as his sharp gaze studied the obvious signs of possession. He took another wary look around, scanning the night for something dangerous.

Emma felt herself blushing, but she stuck her chin in the air. “Jerico won’t open the gates and I want to go for a drive.” There was demand in her voice.

“You don’t want Jerico to lose his job, Emma. If the boss says no, what’s the big deal? You have over a thousand square miles to drive on. Stay on the ranch.”

Emma’s hands closed into two tight fists. “I have the right to leave whenever I want to leave, Drake. I’m not arguing with you about this. Open the gate.” She didn’t want to be near anything Jake owned.

He shook his head, very calm. “Take it up with Jake, Emma. You and I both know how protective he can be. He’s worried something may happen to you—”