Show & Tell. Rhonda Nelson

for her finger. He’d finally gotten disgusted with himself—they weren’t really getting married, for Pete’s sake—and had selected the simple unadorned band. Savannah didn’t seem the type for flash and sparkle.

      She seemed curiously reluctant to put it on, but finally slipped the ring over her knuckle and fitted it into place. She turned her hand this way and that. “It’s lovely. And it fits perfectly. Good job, Knox. It had never occurred to me that we’d need rings. Where did you get these?”

      With an inaudible sigh, Knox opened his own box, snagged his equally simple band and easily pushed it into place. “My jeweler, of course.”

      She winced. “Would have been cheaper to have gone to the pawnshop.”

      “Call me superstitious, but I didn’t want to jinx this marriage—even a fake one—with unlucky bands.”

      “Unlucky bands?” she repeated dubiously.

      “Yes. Unlucky. Think about it—if they’d been lucky they’d still be on their owners’ fingers, not in a cheap fake-velvet tray in a pawnshop.” He tsked. “Bad karma.”

      She chuckled, gazing at him with a curious expression not easily read. “You’re right. You are superstitious.”

      “We’re here,” Knox announced needlessly. He whistled low as he wheeled the rented sedan into a parking space in front of the impressive compound—compound meaning mansion. The nudge behind his navel gave another powerful jab as Knox gazed at the cool, elegant facade of the Shea’s so-called compound. When Knox thought of a compound, rows of cheap low-slung utilitarian buildings came to mind. This was easily a million-dollar spread and there was nothing low-slung or utilitarian about the impressive residence before him.

      The house, a bright, almost blindingly white stucco, was a two-story Spanish dream, with a red tiled roof and a cool, inviting porch that ran the length of the house. The front doors were a work of art in and of themselves, arched double mahogany wonders with an inlaid sunburst design in heavy leaded glass. Huge urns filled with bright flowering plants were scattered about the porch, along with several plush chaise longues and comfortable chairs.

      Knox would have expected a place like this to have been professionally landscaped, but there was a whimsical, unplanned feel to the various shrubs and flora, as though the gardener had simply planted at will with no particular interest in traditional landscaping. There were no borders, no pavers, and no mulch to speak of, just clumps of flowers, greenery and the occasional odd shrub and ornamental tree. Julio, his parents’ gardener, who was prone to a symmetrical design, would undoubtedly have an apoplectic fit if he saw this charmingly chaotic approach to landscaping.

      “Quite a layout, huh?” Savannah murmured.

      Knox nodded grimly. “Quite.”

      Savannah unbuckled her seat belt. “Before we go in, just what exactly is your opinion of tantric sex?”

      Knox surveyed his surroundings once more. “In this case, I think it’s a lucrative load of crap.”

      “For once we’re in agreement.”

      A miracle, Knox thought, wondering how long the phenomenon would last. “Get your purse, Barbie. It’s show time.”

      SAVANNAH ABSENTLY FIDGETED with the ring on her finger. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just unfamiliar, and it fit perfectly. She covertly peeked at it again and a peculiar ache swelled in her chest. The smooth, cool band was beautiful in its simplicity and made her wonder if she’d ever meet anyone who would long to truly place a ring on her finger and be all to her that the gesture implied.

      She doubted it.

      Knox had unwittingly tapped her one weakness with the ring he’d bought her as a prop—her desire to be wanted.

      Other than those few woefully short years with her parents, Savannah had never been truly wanted. While she’d certainly stayed with a few good families during her stint in the foster-care system, most families had taken her in either for the compensation or to add an indentured servant to their household. Sometimes both. A live-in maid, a built-in baby-sitter. But no one had ever truly wanted her.

      Savannah had made the mistake of letting that weakness impair her judgment once with Gib, but she’d never do it again. Rejection simply hurt too much and wasn’t worth the risk. She’d learned to become self-reliant, to trust her instincts, and never to depend on another person for her happiness.

      “Wow,” Knox murmured as they were led down a wide hall and finally shown into their room.

      Wow, indeed, Savannah thought as she gazed at the plush surroundings. The natural hardwood floors and thick white plaster walls were a continued theme throughout the house, creating a light and airy atmosphere. Heavy wooden beams decorated the high white ceilings, tying the wood and white decor together seamlessly.

      A huge canopied bed draped with yards and yards of rich brocade hangings occupied a place of honor in the middle of one long wall. Coordinating pieces—a chest of drawers, dresser and a couple of nightstands—balanced the room perfectly. A dinette sat in one corner and a small arched fireplace accented with rich Mexican tile added another splash of color and warmth. Multicolored braided rugs were scattered about the room, adding more depth to the large space. Light streamed in through two enormous arched windows. It was a great room, very conducive to romance, Savannah thought.

      A ribbon of unease threaded through her belly as she once again considered why she was here—and what she’d have to resist. Savannah glanced at the bed and, to her consternation, imagined Knox and her vibrating the impressive four-poster across the room, her hands shaped to Knox’s perfectly formed ass as he plunged in and out of her. She imagined candlelight and rose petals and hot, frantic bodies tangled amid the scented sheets. Savannah drew in a shuddering breath as dread and need coalesced into a fireball in her belly.

      Knox cased the room, checked out the closet and adjoining bath. He whistled. “Hey, come check out the tub.”

      Given her wayward imagination, Savannah didn’t think that would be wise. Visions of Knox wet and naked and needy weren’t particularly helpful to her cause.

      “So,” Knox said as he returned from admiring the bath. “Which side of the bed do you want?”

      Savannah blinked, forced a wry smile. “I think the question is which part of the floor do you want?”

      Knox glanced at the gleaming hardwood and absently scratched his temple. He wore an endearing smile. “Do I have a prayer of winning this argument?”

      “No.” Savannah hated to be such a prude, but having to sleep next to him would be sheer and utter torture. Simply being in the same room with him would be agonizing enough. Savannah grimly suspected that were they to share that bed, she’d inexplicably gravitate toward him. Toward his marvelous ass. Considering he didn’t reciprocate this unholy attraction, she wasn’t about to risk embarrassing herself and him.

      He sighed. “As the lady wishes. I suppose we should head to the common room for the Welcome Brunch.”

      Savannah nodded. Without further comment, the two of them exited the room and, with Knox’s hand at her elbow, they made their way down a long wide hall back to the foyer and then into what had been dubbed the common room. A long table piled with food sat off to the side of the enormous room and little sofas and armchairs were grouped together to encourage idle chitchat. Savannah’s stomach issued a hungry growl, propelling her toward the food.

      “Hungry, are you?” Knox queried.

      “Ravenous.”

      “I offered to share my peanuts with you,” he reminded teasingly.

      Savannah grunted. “I wasn’t about to partake of your ill-gotten gains.”

      Knox chuckled, a deep silky baritone that made her very insides quiver. Jeez, the man had cornered the market when it came to sex appeal. It was the same sort of intimate laugh she assumed he’d share with a lover. Something warm and quivery snaked