Page 72 of Hot & Heavy

"I'll show you. C'mon, baby. A strong-minded woman wouldn't be afraid of a little dance."

She narrowed her eyes at him for throwing her words back at her, but she stepped into his embrace, which was too intimate for mere acquaintances in her opinion. But the rogue never gave her a chance to protest, and he twirled and stomped her about the kitchen to an exercise called the "Cajun two-step."

Every time she stepped on his toes with her new sandals, he kept telling her, "Feel the beat, Maddie. Just feel the beat."

"I would like to beat someone, for sure," Ian said, flicking off the radio and glaring at Cage. "In case you've forgotten, dimwit, we are having a serious meeting in the living room." Then he turned and walked away.

Cage followed him, but not before saying, "It would seem that there is more than one shrew in this house."

She was flipping through the magazine again when Luke came in—she preferred that name to his nicking name, Slick. Actually, he was standing in the doorway, leaning lazily on the frame, watching her. For how long, she could not say. This man was different from the other seals. Oh, he was handsome, with his dark hair and eyes so dark a blue they almost appeared black. And his long, lean body was as muscled as all the rest. He did not talk much, though, and there was a danger in his quietness. Like she used to see in her Uncle Jorund.

"I understand you have some valuable jewels," he said finally, after prolonged silent scrutiny.

She nodded.

"If you ever need to sell them, contact me. I can put you in touch with… people."

She nodded again.

"Avenil, leave my wife alone," Ian said, coming up on Luke.

"Wife?" Luke inquired in a disbelieving voice. Then he, like the others, walked away.

"I am not your wife," she called after Ian.

"You're not my mother, either, Mrs. MacLean," he called back.

What does that mean?

After the meal, which was messy… at least for her… the men went back into the solar to finish their meeting, except for Pretty Boy. He noticed the magazine was opened to a page where there was a beautiful woman with scarlet lips and fingernails, posing with her hands upraised, combing through a wild mass of wavy red hair.

"She's beautiful," Madrene observed.

"You could be just as beautiful, with a little cosmetic help."

"I bought some nail paint today at the shopping mart. Is that what she is wearing?"

He nodded.

"Mine is not so red. It is a color that Ian called pink. Do you know how I go about putting it on?"

He flashed her a wicked smile. "Babe, this is your lucky day. I have three sisters who made me help them sometimes when I was a kid and not big enough to refuse. Besides, any male worth his testosterone has tried painting a pretty woman's nails after watching that sexy scene in Bull Durham."

Madrene went to the sleeping chamber and got the nail paint. When she returned to the kitchen, Pretty Boy had moved her chair closer to his. "Plant your sweet ass here, honey."

Once he was done, her nails looked beautiful, in her opinion, even though hers were short and a bit ragged, unlike the long-nailed woman in the magazine. She kept holding her hands out to admire them.

"How about a pedicure, too?" At her frown of confusion, he explained, "Your toenails?"

She giggled at the prospect of such an exercise in vanity. Madrene could not remember herself giggling in a long, long time… or engaging in such a frivolous activity.

So it was that when Ian came back to the kitchen this time, she was sitting with her legs extended and her bare feet in Pretty Boy's lap. And he was studiously painting her toenails.

"What the hell is going on here?" he grumbled. That vein was sticking out on his forehead again. "You guys are acting like friggin' idiots. She's not the queen, and you are not one of her minions."

Pretty Boy ignored Ian and helped her put her feet on the floor. "We're done, honey. Be careful for a little while. Don't put your shoes on or touch the polish." He kissed her on the cheek then.

Ian made a growling sound.