"I like these," he said pointing to a pair of black patent leather flap style wrestling boots.

Mark had decided that the wrestling sneakers she had didn't go with the rest of her ring attire. Thus, they stood in a sporting goods shop in the middle of Houston.

"I hate the whole get-up," Talia said, wanting nothing more than to go home and hit the gym.

Mark just grinned.

He'd managed to have a major mood swing from that morning, instead teasing her mercilessly until she was ready to either tear her hair out or his. She was leaning more toward his silky locks.

"While we're here, let's get something different, then."

She breathed a sigh of relief.

He went to a rack of singlets.

Talia put her hands on her hips and glared at him. "Absolutely not. If I have to wear it, then you're going to wear one, too." Damn things always rode up her ass.

On that note, he stepped aside.

She grabbed a pair of faux suede ring shorts with fringes running down the side seam, a matching halter style sports top with fringes running along the low cut bust.

She picked up a pair of brown boots, with fringes layered from the tops to the ankles that would drape to the floor. Matching knee and elbow pads topped it off.

They paid for the purchase and left the store, finding their way to a tattoo and piercing shop.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

She nodded. Her parents would've skinned her alive, but she finally felt like she could make her own decisions.

It was thanks to Mark. When she first came to Texas, she felt she needed his approval to do anything, but he quickly let her know that it was more important what she thought about her own life.

The woman, dressed in a pair of bellbottoms and a beaded top, seated her beside the tray of instruments, and when she was finished, Talia was admiring a silver nose ring through her left nostril, in the style of her Shawnee heritage.

When she stood to leave, she looked at Mark. "What do you think?"

"It looks good."

-

That wasn't a complete lie. It did look good, sexy as hell in fact. There was something symbolic about that glinting piece of silver running through her smooth flesh.

He really needed to get a handle on his hormones. Maybe it was old age.

Nah.

"Now where to?" Talia inquired as they slipped into the cab of his truck.

"Home. I'm gonna cook somethin' good." He flashed her a grin and drove them to his house.

Talia headed for the stairs, informing Mark that she was going to try on her ring clothes.

"Okay, but don't even think about getting in the ring. You're supposed to relax today."

She rolled her eyes, making him grin at her sassiness.

After he sent her upstairs, he went into the kitchen and started dinner. He was standing over the stove, stirring a pot of sauce, when she came in. For the first time in months, she actually looked unsure of herself.

One hip was cocked, a knee bent, and she looked ready to bolt for the door or look for cover.

"How does it look?" she asked, chewing her lip.

She looked like a Shawnee-Cherokee half breed princess, and utterly beautiful.

Her long, wavy, brown-black hair was hanging in waves over shoulders, a few strands tumbling over breasts when she shifted. The clingy material of her top was stretched over the fullness of her breasts, leaving her toned belly and arms bare. The bottoms were like a second skin, stopping at the tops of her thighs. Her legs were tanned and smooth and long, so long.

It took him a moment to realized he hadn't answered her. "Damn," was all he could muster while trying to shake off the feeling of a deer in headlights.

"You don't like it. We can switch it when we go back into town." She started to turn away.

He had to mentally shove himself. "No, it looks fine." He blinked hard to clear his head. "I just didn't realize how grown up you were until now."

She smiled and he had to stop himself from falling into her beauty again.

"Go change, dinner's almost ready." Realizing how dismissive that sounded, he softened his expression and gave her a smile.

He had to be careful not to treat her like her parents did. He was getting moody, trying to fight the attraction he felt for her, but he didn't want her to think he was pushing her away.

The two of them always had an odd, unbreakable closeness. She ran to him when she was feeling bad, had come to him when that jackass left her, and he didn't want that to change.

He knew more about that little girl than her own family did. And he'd never break the fragile trust they'd established.

Mark set her plate on the table as she came into the kitchen.

"How is it you know how to cook?"

On corner of his mouth tipped up. "I'm divorced," he said as an explanation.

After dinner, he followed her into the den and she slipped a horror film into the VCR.

She curled up against his side and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders as Jeepers Creepers 2 played.

Mark groaned when he saw the title. "Again?"

She grinned up at him. "Yep."

He had the sudden, strong urge to lean down and place a kiss on the tip of her cute little upturned nose. Then her cupid's bow mouth caught his attention and his gut clenched.

Stop!

He forced his gaze back to the TV.

He had to get a handle on this, or he was going to end up hurting her. He'd cut his own guts out before he'd purposely hurt her.

He already felt the knife twisting every time he looked at her.