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EXCERPT:

"There he is!"

Monica Peterson peered over the shoulder of her best friend, straining to catch her first glimpse of Soledad's soon-to-be husband, Drake. "Where? I don't see anyone."

"Right there," Soledad exclaimed, and Monica followed her lithe frame with curious eyes as she raced through the crowded airport to fling herself into the arms of an extremely handsome man.

Her eyebrows knitted together as she raked her gaze over Drake Bradshaw, who was the much talked about and well-lauded love of her friend's life.

"Well, she told me he was white," she muttered under her breath, navigating her way through the bustling, baggage-claim area towards them. But she hadn't quite been expecting the Stetson wearing, blond-blue eyed hunk who looked more like he'd stumbled off the last rodeo circuit and less like he was the CEO of a midsized computer software firm.

"They're definitely making computer geeks in prettier packages these days."

As she drew closer to the couple, she realised Drake hadn't come alone. Her gaze slid over the tall, distinguished man, his large frame encased in a custom-tailored, charcoal grey suit that fit him perfectly. He stood off to the side, his handsome face twisted into a dark frown as he stared straight at her with piercing green eyes that bore into her so deeply she almost swore he could see straight to her soul.

Her steps faltered, and she cursed her four-inch, spiked-heeled sandals, but she knew her shoes had nothing to do with her stumble. It was the way he looked at her, that probing, searching stare of his that caused a curious stirring in her belly.

Whoa. What the hell? He was certainly good looking. Okay, very good looking but she tamped down her body's instant and completely unexpected attraction to him. He didn't like her. She could tell by the way he openly glared at her, and when his arrogant gaze roamed over her before abruptly glancing away, she knew she wasn't going to like him, either.

She shook with barely controlled anger. He'd just dismissed her. The jerk. He didn't even know her, yet he'd already written her off, which left her to ponder the identity of this mysterious and bad-mannered man.

"Monica, this is Drake," Soledad gushed with a bright smile, dragging Monica's attention to the beaming couple.

Shaking her head, she bit back a tiny grin. She'd never seen Soledad like this, but she was happy for her best friend. She certainly deserved a good man, and it seemed as if she'd found one in Drake.

"Hello, Drake. It is certainly a pleasure to finally meet you." She stuck out her hand, but he ignored it as he tugged her into his arms for a burly hug.

She was so taken aback by his friendliness that for a moment she just stood there frozen with shock.

"Soledad talks about you all the time," Drake said. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, too."

"Honey, you're suffocating her."

"Oh, sorry," Drake said, his arms relaxing around her.

"It's fine." She smiled as she patted his back, grateful she could breathe again when he released her.

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EXCERPT:

Camille Douglas stepped into the spacious office and slammed the door behind her with a piercing thud. At the sound of a faint noise, she whipped her head to the side to see a single picture, encased in what appeared to be an expensive gold frame, topple from the mantle and fall with a soft thump to the floor. A tiny grin tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she fought it back, even as a childish sense of triumph stole over her. With lazy steps, she sauntered towards the centre of the room, her high heels digging into the soft plush carpet, until she came to a stop in front of a large cherry oak desk. With a slight tilt of her chin, she schooled her features into a neutral expression and bravely met the gazes of the four men that stood before her, as hostility blazed in the matching depths of their eyes.

With a quick flick of the wrist, Camille tossed her unruly curls over her shoulder and straightened her back even as droplets of sweat coated her palms. She was scared, but she had no intention of showing it. The Downing brothers had brought her there to draw blood, but she would be damned if she gave them the satisfaction of knowing that she was nervous as hell.

"I'm here as you summoned," she drawled in her soft, southern accent, her voice dripping with contempt.

Jacob's eyes narrowed. He was the oldest and out of all of them, he was the most arrogant. She'd attended school with him so she knew him the best, and out of all of them she hated him the most.

"You didn't have to come, although I am sure you knew it was in your best interests to do so," he said tightly.

She stiffened at his words, her hands balling into tight fists.

"My best interests?" Despite a valiant effort, she couldn't stop the look of scorn that she knew, without a doubt, crossed her face.

"No, Mr. Downing - " she paused to glance at each of them. "Mr. Downings - " she corrected. "This meeting is in no way shape or form in my best interests, but what choice did I really have? You offered me a way to save my family ranch, so I'm here to take it."

She stared at each of them, the bitter animosity she'd fought to mask, now blazed in her gaze as anger ignited inside her at the thought of why she was there in the first place. If it wasn't for what the ranch symbolised she would have told them all to kiss her ass a long time ago. But with the predicament she was in, she was now forced to kiss their asses.

The Douglas Ranch had been in her family since her great-great grandmother, Ida Douglas, a former slave with almost no education, had managed to purchase a small plot of land outside of San Antonio Texas during the Reconstruction Era. At the time, it hadn't been much, but over the years, the ranch had grown in size, eventually becoming a lucrative and extensive ranching operation, until their name was synonymous with the wealthy black elite of Texas. That had all changed six years ago when her father died and her greedy, tramp of a step-mother squandered most of the family assets in one poorly conceived business deal after the next. By the time Camille returned from her graduate studies in Dublin six months ago, it was too late. The ranch was up for foreclosure, and everything that her family had worked so hard for was now in the hands of their bitter enemies and hated rivals - the Downings. The four Downing brothers now held her family legacy in their hands, and with the exception of going on a murderous rampage, she would stop at nothing to reclaim her family heritage.

"Have a seat, Ms. Douglas," Jackson, the second oldest said and waved his hand towards the lone chair in the middle of the room. She glanced at it. There were no other chairs in the room. She shook her head. There was no way in hell she was going to sit, while those cocky, arrogant bastards stood over her.

"No thank you. I'll stand."

Jackson shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Apparently, that had been their one attempt at courtesy. From the stubborn set of their matching jaw lines, Camille could tell that their southern hospitality well had probably dried up long ago - or at least it had towards her and her family. That was fine with her. She wasn't there to be courted like some dainty southern belle. She was there to hear their terms so that she could negotiate the selling of her property back to her.

"Look gentlemen. There's no sense in pretending that this is an amicable meeting, so why don't we just skip the pleasantries and get straight to business. How much is it going to cost me to get my land back?"

There. She'd said it. Her heart beat frantically in her chest as she watched them glance at each other, their expressions registering surprise. She was sure her bluntness had caught them off guard. No matter. That was the reason why she was there so it shouldn't have come as too big of a surprise that the subject of her ranch would end up on the agenda.

Camille silently fumed, when they leaned in close to exchange hushed words. Their voices were barely more than a whisper, but she could still hear her name. She tapped her foot angrily against the soft carpeted floor, amazed by their rudeness, and a little annoyed that the sound of her stomping foot was muffled.

When they finished with their discussion, Jackson, Jeff and Jason all nodded at their older brother, as if signalling that they were in agreement.

She watched with wary eyes while Jacob studied her. His gaze settled first on her face, before leisurely drifting across her figure. A gasp of shock threatened to erupt from her lips when his eyes lingered on her overly large breasts that strained against her gray suit. As a size sixteen, it was hard to find decent clothing to contain them, but she thought she'd done a good job of hiding her chest that day. Apparently not. A fresh wave of fury washed over her as she bristled under his scrutiny, barely suppressing the urge to ask if he wanted a closer look when his eyes zeroed in on the area between her legs. She shook her head, appalled by his audacity. When he lingered there for several moments, she couldn't contain herself any longer.

"Mr. Downing? Is there something that you would like to say to me - to my face?" She snapped angrily.

Jacob arched a single eyebrow and his lips curled up into a slight grin that looked more like a leer. Her nostrils flared at the gesture. There was nothing amusing about his actions.

"Actually, there is." His eyes held her gaze, his expression blank. "How much is the ranch worth to you?"

Camille stood there for several moments considering his question, before giving him the only answer that she could-”the truth.

"It's worth everything. It's been in my family for generations, and I would do anything to keep it," she said, knowing her eyes revealed the sincerity of her words.

"Anything?"

She blinked for several seconds. There was something in his voice that gave her pause, but she finally nodded saying, "Yes. I would do anything to keep it." She fixed her gaze upon each of them before adding. "I cannot buy it at market value yet, but I have a trust and some money saved. I can give you some now and then work out a pay - "

"Thank you, Ms. Douglas for that offer, but we have already come to a decision on the payment plan."

Relief instantly flooded her at his words, and for the first time since she'd agreed to the meeting, she allowed the tension to seep from her body. They were going to let her buy it back. She had been so worried that with the bad blood between their families they would simply refuse to sell.

"How much? How much do I owe you?"

"It's not an amount."

She shook her head, puzzled. "I don't understand."

"It's not money we want from you."

"Then how am I supposed to pay you back for the ranch? It's worth almost three million dollars. What could I possibly give you that would compensate for the amount you paid?"

"Yourself."

Her eyes widened, not quite comprehending Jacob's statement. "Huh?"

"You are the payment, Camille."

His words hit her like a ton of bricks. She stared up at them, the cold expressionless masks that were their faces. A soft gasp ripped past her lips when Jacob's words finally penetrated the fog that had settled in her brain. They were serious. They wanted her as payment!

"P-payment how? In what capacity?" She swallowed the lump in her throat. Maybe they wanted her to be their housekeeper, because the alternative was infinitely more terrifying than the thought of scrubbing their floors and doing their dirty laundry for an eternity.

Jacob's eyes flashed with impatience.

"What do you think, Camille? You are the payment."

She shook her head in protest, but he ignored her.

"For six months you will serve all of our sexual needs in any way we see fit. You are to be available to service us at any time, and any place."

She had to restrain herself from rearing back in shock when she glimpsed the tiny flash of desire in his eyes.

"If you comply with our demands for the entire time, then the ranch is yours."

She stood there stunned. Yet the shock was quickly replaced by fury.

"Absolutely not! I have a job gentleman and it does not include being your twenty-four hour mistress. Those terms are unacceptable - "

"This is not up for negotiation. This is the only offer we are making. You can either take it, or lose your ranch for good," Jeff said.

She whirled around to stare at Jeff, the third oldest, surprised by his boldness. But then again he was a Downing so what had she truly expected?

"We were under the impression that as an advice columnist and freelance writer, you work mostly from home."

She slid her gaze to Jason, the youngest, and shot angry daggers from her eyes at him for his insinuation. A bitter chuckle escaped her lips.

"So you think because I work at home, that I have nothing but endless amounts of time to play your mistress?" She asked in a shrill voice. Silence.

That's exactly what they thought.

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EXCERPT:

"I trust Collette and Gabe with my life, so if they think you're ready then I believe them." He circled her, and she forced herself to remain rooted to her spot as if she was at attention. "But while we're out there on assignment, it'll just be you and me, working alone. It's up to us to bring this creep in, so I have to trust you." He stopped behind her, his body so close she could feel heat vibrating off of him in waves. He swept her hair aside, his lips so close to her ear that his warm breath tickled the skin along her neck. "I need to know that you're willing to do anything to get this job done. That you won't let your fears blow our cover."

Superior or not, she batted his hand away, her skin growing hot as her temper ignited.

She wasn't stupid - his veiled insult hit its mark. He questioned her half human blood, the part of her that was weak - that same part of her that allowed her to mask her vampire blood from other vampires - including a rogue vampire killing human women. That same part of her made her the only supernatural in the entire unit who could do this particular job.

"What is it that I need to do to prove to you that I know how to handle myself out in the field?" she bit out, her entire body vibrating with barely controlled anger. She'd been taunted and teased all her life - an outcast among both humans and vampires. His insult didn't so much as pierce her armour, it only made her more defensive, more defiant, and even more determined to do well.

He didn't step back, not even an inch, as he circled around to face her. They stood eye to eye, toe to toe, heat radiating from their bodies, tinged with emotion. Hers was that of anger, his - desire?

"Before I let you go out into the field with me, I need to be certain of your abilities, which is why I need you to do one thing for me."

She arched a single brow. "And that would be?" she asked, when he didn't move to finish.

His lips twitched, but he didn't smile. "I need you to strip."

"Excuse me?"

"Your assignment is to pose as an exotic dancer so I need you to strip, right here, right now, for me."

Her eyes narrowed. "I don't really think that's nece - "

"Oh it's necessary. Earlier, when I stared at your breasts and your pussy, you got upset. Just now, you cringed at the mention of the word pussy." He drawled out the word, his lips quirking into a grin. He was enjoying her embarrassment.

"You're serious?"

"Very. What stripper doesn't strip? What stripper winces at the word pussy? If you can't strip for me, then you can't strip in a club packed full of men." He inched his way closer, the broad width of his chest grazing her breasts. She fought not to react, but it was a struggle, her body and emotions warring. "You said you read the specs for the assignment, so you must know that I'm posing as a buyer, and that I intend to purchase you for a night, maybe more." He leaned into her, his words barely a whisper, but she heard every single one. "There is a possibility you will end up in my bed, and you will have to do it, Jasmeene. You will have to fuck me as if you are a real stripper, making money on the side." She shuddered at his words. She'd read the specs, knew that was a possibility, but to read it and be confronted with it, no correction, to be confronted with the man she would possibly have to sleep with, were two different things entirely.

"Strip. Strip for me," he whispered, breaking into her thoughts.

His softly spoken command left her no choice. Besides, he had a point-”what stripper was afraid to strip?

She reached back and locked the door.