“Buy them a gun and show them how to use it.”

“Sounds like a plan to me. What about teaching her how to fight? It might make her feel better to be able to defend herself, and al that exercise might wear her out enough to keep her from dreaming.”

Caleb felt a flare of hope at the idea, which he immediately squashed. “She’s too fragile for that.”

Grant snorted. “She may look that way, but I have a file ful of evidence that proves otherwise. You said yourself she’s stronger than she looks, and if you’re too much a fool to show her how to use that strength, then I wil.”

Possessiveness reared its horned head, and Caleb felt his lips pul back in a near snarl. “Don’t you dare go putting the moves on her.”

Grant held up his hands. “Whoa. Wouldn’t dream of it. I swear, you and David get al ugly where your women are concerned.”

“She’s not my woman.”

“Shows just how much of a fool you are. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. You could have her if you wanted.”

“Oh, so I should seduce the woman I let be brutalized so that I can win the World’s Biggest Bastard award?”

“I think Monroe has dibs on that prize. The best you could hope for is runner-up.”

“This isn’t funny, Grant.”

“Maybe not from where you’re standing, but from here, it’s pretty fucking hilarious to watch you, oh master of self-control, flounder around like this.”

Caleb’s chest rumbled with a warning growl, and Grant just grinned.

“I think I’ve overstayed my welcome. I’l be outside if you need me,” said Grant, and he left, shutting the door behind him.

Caleb stood in the little living room for a long time, just concentrating on breathing, controling his temper, controling his lust. It was an exercise in futility while that shower was running—at least the lust part. There was nothing he could do to stop himself from wanting Lana. Not even his guilt could cool that fire. Al he could do was tough it out and hope she didn’t notice how he walked around with a constant hard-on.

Lana had managed to avoid another crisis until the unusualy late hour of noon. The little bels on her office door chimed, and a walking rainbow stormed through the door.

Celia Summers was a young woman dressed in a homemade tie-dyed T-shirt and jeans that looked like they’d been used as a paint palette. Her hair was a vibrant shade of green this week, streaked with pale lavender. Three mismatched hoops dangled from each ear, and the pink crystal stud in her nose glittered in the bright afternoon sun. She was a tiny thing, barely reaching Lana’s shoulder, but what she lacked in height she made up for in talent. Forget Armand. Though Celia wasn’t wel known, she was one of the best landscape painters Lana had ever seen, and that had been when Celia was stil in high school. Since then, her talent had only grown.

Celia went straight to Lana’s desk and kicked it. “You said he was going to be here!”

Caleb and Grant had been on the phone al morning trying to bring in some of their buddies to help with the carnival. Grant had gone to the back room to make some copies, and Caleb was stil chatting quietly on the phone. When he heard the angry young woman shout at Lana, he hung up and started to stand.

Lana gave him a smal shake of her head and hoped he’d stay put rather than make things worse by getting involved. Celia was . . . temperamental, but she was the best artist they had left in the dwindling lineup. Lana couldn’t afford to lose her, too.

“Who was going to be where?” asked Lana in the calmest voice she had.

“Armand! You said he’d be here, but he’s in Italy.”

“He canceled a few days ago, but I did send out an e-mail about it. I thought you knew.”

“I accidentaly kiled my computer with a chain saw.” Celia waved a hand with five different colors of nail polish on it. “It was a whole thing. I haven’t had e-mail in weeks.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t know. If I’d known your computer was broken, I’d have caled you. I know how much you were looking forward to meeting him.”

Celia pouted, making the ring in her bottom lip jiggle. “I don’t even know if I want to come now.”

Rather than throw the contract Celia had signed in her face, Lana tried a more diplomatic approach. “Don’t say that. We need you. The kids need you.”

“What about al the other artists? You stil have them.”

“They’re not as good as you, Celia. And this is a great way to bring in work. Get your name out there.”

“Yeah, but I’ve already got more work than I can do.” Her gaze went past Lana, and something she saw back there made her smile.

Caleb. Celia was staring at Caleb as if she’d just found a new color. Lana didn’t even turn around to see if he was looking back at her the same way. She didn’t want to know. Celia was cute and fiery and talented, and Lana was no match for her feminine appeal.

“Please tel me you won’t back out,” begged Lana, trying to ignore the rush of jealousy she felt.

“Who’s the stud?” asked Celia, not bothering to lower her voice.

Lana pushed out a sigh of frustration. “My friend, Caleb.”

“Not Caleb,” said Grant from behind her. “I’m Grant, sweetheart.”

Lana turned her head to see the focus of Celia’s attentions, and they were most certainly targeted on Grant. She felt herself smiling with relief.

Grant held out his hand, and Celia took it and didn’t let go. “Ever had anyone paint you naked?” she asked him.

“Sure have. The brush tickles and the red paint stains,” said Grant.

Celia laughed and stepped closer. “Ah, an art critic.”

Lana felt Caleb’s fingers curve around her arm and gently pul her back. He leaned down and whispered into her ear, “Just sit back and watch.”

Lana had no idea what he meant, but she decided to take his advice.

“Never your critic. I’d love to see some of your work,” said Grant.

“I don’t have any with me.”

“Then maybe I should go back to your place.”

“For a private showing?” asked Celia.

“You show me yours, I’l show you mine.”

“I just bet you would, too,” she purred.

“I can’t help it. I’m a slave to my curiosity.”

“Slave? Mmm,” she purred. “That has potential, but what is it exactly that you’re curious about?”

“Whether green or purple is your natural hair color.”

Celia laughed again and turned to ask Lana, “Can I keep him? Just for a couple hours?”

Grant lifted Celia’s chin with his finger and made her look up at him. “I’l give you three hours if you promise not to pul out of the auction.”

“Done,” agreed Celia and grabbed Grant by the front of his shirt, tugging him along behind her.

“The things I sacrifice in the name of art,” said Grant with a smile. “See you al . . . later.”

Lana just shook her head, staring in awe. “How did he do that?”

“It’s the panty-dropping smile.”

“The what?” asked Lana, totaly confused.

Caleb studied her face as if looking for the joke. “You realy don’t see it?”

“I guess not.”

His smile was al male satisfaction and flashing white teeth. “Good.”

For the second time that day, Lana’s office bels gave a merry tinkle as another problem walked into the door. This time, there wasn’t anything that Grant was going to be able to do to fix it.

Oran flashed her a white smile as if he hadn’t personaly tried to bring down her fundraiser.

“What do you want?” she demanded.

“To talk, darling. I figured you’d be about ready to listen by now.”

“You mean now that you’ve done your best to stop my fundraiser from happening.”

Oran shrugged his athletic shoulders. “I’m desperate to get you back.”

“I can tel by the way you’re sparing no expense for your engagement party to another woman. ”

“I’m just looking for the right time to let her down easy,” said Oran.

“Like you did me?” she asked with false sweetness.

Caleb came out of the back room, where he’d been making copies for her. He looked from Oran to Lana. “Everything okay here, Lana?”

“Oran was just leaving,” said Lana.

Oran’s gaze slid to Caleb, and something he saw there startled him enough that he dropped his smile. “I guess I misjudged,” he said. “I figured you’d be happy to see me.”

“After you tried to destroy my careful planning? Not likely.”

“I wasn’t trying to destroy your anything, darling. I just wanted to open your eyes to a better way of doing business.”

“Yours?”

“Wel, yes,” he said, sounding shocked that she had dared ask.

Lana felt rage swel inside her, threatening to spil over. She realy wanted to punch Oran in the eye and leave him one hel of a shiner for the media. Knowing him, though, he’d press charges and Lana would end up in jail for assault. “I’m only going to ask you to leave one time. After that, I’m going to go in the bathroom and let Caleb deal with you as he sees fit. With no witnesses.”

“Realy?” asked Caleb with almost childlike glee.

Oran frowned at her as if she’d done something naughty. That look used to be able to make her blush with humiliation, but now it just pissed her off. “Leave, Oran.”

Technicaly, it wasn’t a request, but Lana was done giving Oran even another second of her time.

Caleb stepped up beside her, doing nothing more than merely standing there. It was enough that Oran straightened his tie with a nervous gesture. “If I leave now, I’m never coming back.”

“Promise?” she asked in a sickly sweet voice.

Oran turned on his heel and left, the little bels chiming in his wake.

Lana looked up at Caleb. “I shouldn’t have used you to intimidate him like that. I’m sorry.”

Caleb slid a slippery strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t ever be sorry for needing a little backup. I want to help you, even if that means scaring off slime like Oran.”

Lana shook her head, sending the hair Caleb had tucked away flying again. “I’m ashamed that I used to love that man.”

Caleb’s voice dipped to a deeply serious tone. “We can’t help who we love. You should try to remember that.”

“What time does the youth center close?” asked Caleb as he fired off the last of the e-mails he needed to send.

“Seven. Why?” asked Lana.

Caleb looked at his watch. It was nearly nine, and he could see Lana was struggling to keep herself going. She’d worked nonstop al day, not even pausing while she ate the Chinese food he’d had delivered. Grant stil hadn’t come back yet, but Caleb had seen the black sedan pul into the lot about an hour ago. The night guard for the office.