Gena Showalter Bundle. Gena Showalter

crossed over his chest; his eyes were narrowed to tiny slits; and his nostrils were flared. They were in some sort of high noon showdown.

      “He’s leaving you in two weeks,” Gray continued.

      “I know.” Her shoulders sagged with relief. For a minute, she’d thought Gray meant to tell her Jorlan had confessed he was from another planet. “Now that that’s settled, you have exactly five seconds to apologize for your behavior,” she said, her tone sugary sweet, “or I’m going to snap your neck like a twig.”

      The handsome stranger at Gray’s side laughed. It was the first sound he had made during the entire exchange. “You said she was spunky, Gray,” the man said, still laughing. “You didn’t say she was homicidal.”

      Gray decided then to make the proper introductions. “Katie, Jorlan, this is Steve Harris. Steve, this is my sister Katie and her friend, Jorlan. He’s a romance cover model.” His disgust over that fact lingered long after his words.

      This was Steve? Katie thought, surprised.

      This was Steve? Jorlan thought darkly. The man Katie’s brothers wanted her to wed?

      “Nice to meet you,” Steve told them.

      “You, too.” Katie hadn’t quite managed to close her mouth yet.

      Seething, Jorlan remained silent, though the if-you-touch-her-you-will-die glare he wore said plenty. Just in case Steve did not get the hint, he draped a possessive hand around Katie’s waist.

      Steve didn’t even try to shake her hand in greeting.

      “I can’t believe you’re so calm about this.” Gray raked a hand through his hair. “Do you never follow advice, Katie? What am I always telling you?”

      “Don’t talk to strangers.”

      “Not that.”

      “Buckle up or die.”

      “Not that, either.”

      “Carry Mace—”

      “That you should never spend time with a man who won’t stick around.”

      Katie placed her hands on his shoulders, leaned up, and kissed her brother on the cheek. “I love you, too, Gray. Now get out of here. I’ve got things to do.”

      “We’re not finished with this conversation.” He gazed over her shoulder and pinned Jorlan with an expectant stare. “I’ll talk to you later.”

      Her alien nodded stiffly.

      “No, you will not talk to him later,” she called.

      But Gray didn’t hear her. He and Steve had already piled into their car and were racing away.

      Jorlan’s palms curled around her forearm, tight and menacing. He swung her around. “You will not see that man again.”

      “My brother?”

      “Nay, the other.”

      What was this? A moment of jealousy? She studied him, watching, gauging. Oh, yes. This gorgeous barbarian was indeed jealous. He fairly seethed with it. Katie entertained a flicker of delight and had to hide her smile. He deserved this after what he had put her through with the redhead. “And what are you going to do to me if I do see him?”

      The corner of his eye twitched. “Do you truly wish to know the answer to that?”

      “Absolutely.” Some of her smile peeked through.

      Slowly, desire eclipsed his anger. He gave her that cocky look of his that said he knew exactly how to make a woman’s punishment pleasurable. “I will—” He paused, as if searching for just the right method of correction.

      “Spank me?” she offered helpfully.

      He gave a stiff shake of his head.

      She tried again. “Douse my naked body with honey?”

      His eyes ignited with blue fire. “Nay. I’ll prove your desire for me wherever we happen to be, whoever happens to be around us.”

      “If you’re so tough, why don’t you just try it?” The words slipped out before she had time to think about them. She had just issued a sexually charged challenge to a fierce competitor, a man who did not like to lose.

      “Do you provoke me?” he said softly. “I shall. I shall indeed.”

      CHAPTER TWELVE

      THREE DAYS AND twelve psychics later, Katie and Jorlan had developed a routine.

      Morning: jog, visit psychics.

      Afternoon: work at the Victorian.

      Evening: talk, watch television.

      Twilight: sleep apart and fantasize.

      Though his body and mind screamed that he at last tup her, that his time was quickly running out, Jorlan hadn’t kissed Katie, hadn’t touched her, or whispered erotic words to her. Nay, he was subtly, through pleasantries and courtesies, trying to win her love and convince her to wed him. So far, he had failed. In fact, his solicitous manner had had the opposite effect on Katie, and it seemed as if she retreated a bit more from him each day. The continued failure, both with Katie and with the psychics, was causing his desperation to grow.

      Only ten days remained. Ten short days until the curse claimed him once more.

      Could he afford to lose another day to her stubbornness? More and more he felt the coldness of stone running through his blood, trying to freeze him where he stood. He had to make Katie love him. Had to force her to fall by whatever means necessary. He couldn’t tolerate failure much longer. Soon. He had to win her soon.

      But what could he try that he had not already tried?

      He’d pursued her sexually, had made her jealous, had shared his past with her, had given her time, and when all of that failed, had pursued her friendship, trying to prove to her that he truly did care for her and desired her happiness. Yet, his efforts had gotten him nothing but lost time.

      Curse her. Did she not understand the great honor he was paying her by offering to make her his temporary life-mate? Nay, she did not! With her “No, I will not wed you” and her “You must obey my rules,” the woman was quickly eradicating his legendary control. She should know him well enough by now to know that he would convince her to come with him, that she would give him her heart, and that she would belong to him for however long he wanted to keep her.

      He would accept nothing less than absolute compliance from her.

      If only this day did not seem destined for failure, as well.

      After a minor accident involving Katie’s transportation and a stationary pole, six jaunts into nonmagical establishments and a bout of stomach sickness caused, Jorlan was sure, by a slab of greasy food Katie referred to as pizza, he was not in a good mood. Plus, the new clothing he wore—the item Katie called underwear—was nigh smashing his man parts.

      “Well, that’s all of them,” Katie said, brushing her hands together once, twice.

      They stood outside The Knowing Palm, a small building that supposedly housed one of the greatest male psychics ever to live. Ever to live in a delusional world of his own creation, mayhap. Birds soared high above him, circling and searching for food. The hot sun beat down. A soft wind danced about, carrying a gentle scent, like flowers and rain that reminded him of Katie.

      “We’ve wasted our morning in one shop or another.” Katie shielded her eyes with her hand. “We’ve got work to do, so let’s head over to the Victorian. I’ll put together another list tonight. The Internet is sure to have more names, and we can visit one or two over the weekend. If they’re not too far,” she added.

      He paid her speech no heed. “We have been to six places, katya, yet there were seven left on your list.”

      Her