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edge off, he kept goading her. If he got her mad enough then she would tick him off and so on and so on. Therefore, since he was mad he wouldn’t have time to be attracted to her. It made perfect sense to him—if he lived on Mars maybe.
    “What’s this Gala Org thing she has all over her calendar?”
    “A fundraising event she’s organizing. It’s at that hotel on Central Park Drive. They have it there every year. Talk to Ralph Hanes. He’s head of security at the hotel.” Matt rambled off a telephone number.
    “Wait, let me get a pen.” Sam hurried to the living room to grab pen and paper to write down the number. Before he did that, he detoured to the kitchen and ripped two sheets of paper towel, wrapping it around his hand.
    “Try not to kill each other,” Matt laughed and hung up.
    Sam left the phone and the number on the kitchen counter. He picked up the roll of paper towel and returned to the washroom.
    “I didn’t mean to do that.”
    He looked up and through the mirror, he saw Princess standing at the washroom door. The red carpet out fit was replaced with a white velour tracksuit covering her soft curves. Her face was scrubbed free of makeup and her hair hung in ringlets around her face. She stood there staring at him, all innocent, as if she hadn’t tried to take his head off earlier.
    “Is that an apology?”
    “I meant to hit you.” Her lip curled into a smile, gloating. “It wasn’t my intention to draw blood.” She looked at the sheet of paper towel dotted with blood on the sink. He thought he saw a flicker of concern in her eyes. Nope, no concern—just gloating.
    “Oh, that’s okay then. Was there something you wanted?” Sam went back to tending his wound…a wound that should have stopped bleeding five minutes ago, but for some bizarre reason didn’t want to. Having Princess standing there gloating was like adding salt to the wound.
    “I wanted to talk about tomorrow so we’re on the same page.”
    He turned off the tap, flashing the water from his hands. She moved into the washroom and picked up the roll of paper towel. She graciously ripped a sheet of paper towel and handed it to him.
    “What page would that be,
Princess
?”
    She pursed her lips, but didn’t rise to his bait. “I chair the fundraising committee for Robyn’s Nest Foundation.”
    “
Rich
people raising money for
rich
people. How
rich
?” He mocked.
    His pride was hurt while he bled like a stuck pig. Having her in the bathroom next to a loveseat across from the bathtub, with visions of them doing the love dance in his head and knowing that it would never happen, got under his skin. He had to take it out on someone and since she’d thrown the first punch, she got the honors.
    She drew in a sharp intake of breath ignoring his comment. “I’ve a million things to do tomorrow at the hotel with the committee. How am I going to do it with you tagging along behind me like a dog?”
    “I have it covered. As long as you do as I say we won’t have a problem. And, I promise, I won’t bite.”
    After another sharp intake of breathe she asked, “What do I say when people ask who you are?”
    “Tell them I’m the hired help or the spurned lover. Take your pick. I’m here to do a job and if it inconveniences you, so be it. Your life is worth saving, isn’t it?”
    She abruptly turned to leave the washroom then stopped as if she’d forgotten something and turned to face him once again.
    “Sam?”
    “Yes?” He looked down at her and she had a smile on her face, a sexy smile. You know—that smile a woman gave to a man when she wanted to fulfill all his fantasies.
    She moved into the washroom slowly. He actually stopped breathing when she stood on the tips of her toes to reach his ear. She reached up and snaked her arm around his neck. Her was breath hot on his cheek and he closed his eyes. Waiting.
    “I lied,” she whispered. “I meant to draw blood.”

Chapter Five
    A lexandria yawned and pushed herself up