A/N's: The idea for this fic came to me as I was finishing up Rainwater Hills. So, I began working on it right away. Although the idea of having Mark Calloway (The Undertaker) make an appearance was all the idea of my fav reviewer Sharnhorst. Thanks so much chica! This fic is for you and I hope you enjoy! One last note, the wrestlers used in this story aren't wrestlers and have never been wrestlers...I hope you don't mind!

Disclaimers: As always I own no one except Dee and other characters born of my own mind. Everyone else is copyrighted to the WWE and Vince McMahon. So, please don't sue.

Chapter One

Dee Thompson stepped into the back seat of the long, sleek limousine. She crossed her legs and settled back against the plush gray upholstery, grateful for the air-conditioned interior.

The chauffeur who met her at Stapleton International Airport had explained that Mark Calloway was unable to, but had sent him to take her to her hotel in downtown Denver.

The hot, dry air that greeted them outside was a jolt, even though Dee had been reading about the long, record-breaking hot spell in Colorado. It had been drizzling and only seventy degrees when she'd left Los Angeles just a couple of hours ago. She'd dressed for the west-coast weather instead of the sweltering Denver September.

Dee shrugged out of the long-sleeved navy blazer and dropped it across her lap. The chauffeur looked at her over his shoulder and said, "I'm sure the weather must seem unbearable to you."

"It's hot," Dee admitted and smiled. "But then, Denver's my home. I've seen it this hot before in early September."

"I see." He nodded, maneuvering the sleek car out into the stream of airport traffic.

Dee was glad he made no further attempt at conversation. She wanted only to observe the dear, familiar surroundings of the beautiful city she thought of as home. Finally, she twisted around, lifting her eyes to the majestic Rockies that reached to the sky on the western horizon. Hot though it was in Denver proper, snow dusted the highest peaks, as the sun began to slip below them.

The car purred to a stop in front of the stately old White Manor Hotel. Dee felt her heart constrict. She'd spent the night here only once in her life. As she walked into the imposing tiered lobby, her eyes automatically lifted to the balcony at the fifth floor level, and the door to room 56.

She stepped up to the smiling desk clerk and announced in a weak voice. "I'm Dee Thompson. I'm to-"

"Yes, indeed." The man beamed at her. "I remember you. You were on X104 radio with Dwayne Johnson."

"You're right and I-"

"Mark Calloway has been calling to see if you've checked in. Welcome back to Denver and to the White Manor."

"Thank you, it's good to be back," Dee responded.

"Everyone's excited about you being back on the air with Dwayne Johnson." He handed a key to a bellman. "Take the lady to 56 "

"No, I...have you another..."

"Is something wrong? Mr. Calloway asked that we give you one of our finest rooms and so I-"

"Room 56 is fine. Just fine," Dee managed. She turned and followed the bellman.

After he'd carefully placed all of Dee's suitcases in the dressing area, Dee locked the door behind him. She took a deep breath, slowly turned and finally let her eyes stray to the king-size bed. It was in exactly the same place it had been on that night five years before. Dee could vividly recall that the sheets were ice-blue then.

Hurriedly, she crossed the room and peeled the comforter to the foot of the bed. She moaned. Soft, clean sheets of ice-blue looked cool and oh-so-inviting and Dee could see again a long, lean body, unclothed and masculinely beautiful, stretched out in the slumber. Handsome face in repose, ebony hair disheveled. Broad, bronzed chest rising and falling evenly. Hard abdomen, narrow hips, and long powerful legs.

She'd left him like that on that morning five years ago. She'd tiptoed out of the room without waking him. In all the times she'd thought of him since, she always pictured him gloriously naked in this blue bed.

A huge bouquet of long-stemmed Happiness roses drew her attention to the dresser opposite her. The card read:

"Sorry I couldn't meet the plane. The wife and I, along with Dwayne Johnson, want to take you out to dinner tonight. Will call for you at 8:30 this evening. Welcome back!" It was signed "Mark Calloway."

Dee began to tremble. In exactly one hour she would see Dwayne Johnson again.