He shot her a hard look, stepped in front of her, and opened the door himself. She followed him out into the pink-carpeted hallway, past an excruciatingly ugly painting of a Venetian canal, and down the steps, so she could lock the door behind him. Just past the landing, he stopped cold and turned. She was on a higher step, and their eyes met. In the light from the dusty crystal chandelier, his face was both familiar and mysterious. She pretended she understood him, but how could she? He lived in the stars, and she was good, solid earth.

She stood without moving as he lifted his arms and channeled his fingers into her hair. The loose rubber band that had been barely holding up her ponytail gave way as he tunneled under it.

His kiss was harsh and thrilling. She forgot everything she knew about herself and slipped her arms around his neck. Tilting her head, she opened her mouth. He cupped her bottom and squeezed. She pressed closer, and her hips rubbed against him.

He broke away so suddenly she got a head rush and had to grab the railing. Of course, he noticed. She flipped her hair, sending the dangling rubber band flying. “You are so bored with yourself.”

“I don’t feel bored.” His low, rough voice scraped her skin like sandpaper. “What I feel…” He curled his hand around her bare thigh, just below the hem of her shorts. “What I feel… is a hot fuckable little body…”

Sparks erupted inside her. She licked her lips and tasted him. “Sorry. Now that I’ve had you, my curiosity is satisfied, and I’m not interested. No offense.”

His gaze held steady. He deliberately brushed his fingers across her breast. “None taken.”

As her skin pebbled, he gave her a less than friendly smile, turned away, and let himself out of the house.

Blue felt hungover the next morning as she walked out to the curb to get the Sunday paper for Nita. Last night, Dean had tried to change the rules on her. He had no right to be angry just because she wouldn’t worship and adore like all the rest. When she went to the farm today, she needed to give him as much trouble as possible.

As she leaned down to pick up the paper, she heard a hissing coming from the other side of the hedge. She looked up and saw Syl, the owner of the local resale shop, peeking at her around the shrubbery through a pair of red cat’s-eye glasses. Syl had short salt and pepper hair and thin lips she’d enlarged with dark red lip liner. Blue had enjoyed her sense of humor when they’d met at the Barn Grill after the big fight, but Syl was all business now, hissing like a garden hose and gesturing for Blue to approach. “Come here. We need to talk to you.”