Disclaimer: The characters belonging to Janet Evanovich are used strictly for entertainment purposes.

A/N: Okay, I know I said I was posting updates on Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday. I've just received my 150th review and I'm so pleased about it that I'm posting chapter seven tonight as a bonus. Thanks so much to all of my reviewers. It's my greatest reward to experience my story through your eyes and emotions. There are a few of you I haven't been able to personally respond to because you do not allow messaging. I hope you know who you are and that I send my heartfelt thanks to you.

Notice: Rating will change to "M" on this chapter and going forward. I decided it was probably safest. Yes, that means there is a smut warning for this chapter. There are also violence warnings for the future.

...

From Chapter Six:

Part of me wanted to fly at him, beat on his chest, or punch him outright, but I knew it wouldn't help. First, it would hurt — me, not him. Second, nothing could make him do something he didn't want to do, so there was no point attacking him. That thought sent my temper boiling. Damn it, why had he even come? He could have sent someone else to babysit me and figure out how to get me home. The logical part of my brain lost out to the irrational, hurt part and I spoke before I realized it.

"What is your deal?" My voice was quiet and I turned to face him with my hands on my hips and eyes narrowed.

…

Chapter 7

"My deal?"

"Yeah. This whole 'not touching' thing is very confusing." My fingers formed air quotes to emphasize the phrase. "I used to be able to figure you out. We had this sync between us, but now? I'm not sure what to think." I sighed and pulled in an even breath, trying to calm myself down. "I know what happened was awful for you. I can't imagine how I would have handled it." I started to pace away from him.

He let me go, he hadn't moved since my tirade started. I turned around and made the return trip, spreading my hands out in a helpless gesture. "I don't know what's going on. If you need more time, if you are struggling to believe this is real, or if you've moved on and there's someone else—" I couldn't finish my statement or look at him while I spoke, but had turned to the rail, head down to watch the water speeding by against the side of the boat.

I felt his stare turn cold, so cold that it chilled my skin. It was cold enough that even the air around him seemed to freeze. I resisted the urge to look at him and fought the shiver that threatened to pass through my body. His icy voice asked, "Why would you think there's someone else?"

I blew out the breath I'd been holding and stared straight in front of me at the passing buildings along the waterfront as I answered. "You're different. My Ranger couldn't keep his hands off me, always invaded my space when we were alone, and did little things to show me he knew me and cared about me. That man was crazy about me."

Turning around to take a few steps away again, I jittered with a feeling of nervous agitation trembling just beneath my skin. I didn't like his silence and lack of response. I turned around to face him, but didn't move toward him. "I've told myself all morning — through the tour, the chitchat, lunch, and the short history lesson on 'Ranger in Paris' — that I needed to be patient. Hell, Elise told me to be patient. But I can't do this, Ranger. I can't sit here and hope and wonder and get nothing back from you. Just tell me, tell me now, so at least I know what to expect."

His voice was just above a growl, more like a hoarse whisper, when he said, "I'm not the same man, Stephanie." I should have taken his tone as a sign to stop, but I was on a roll now and I was determined to have this thing out.

"Oh? Help me understand, Ranger." I folded my arm under my breasts and raised a fist to press it against my mouth, fighting my own growl of frustration. When I was sure I wouldn't resort to animal noises, I lowered my hand and asked, "Why did you come here? To satisfy your curiosity and make sure that I really wasn't killed? If so, you can go back. Mystery solved." What possessed me to say those words, to try to send away the only person who could help me get home, I had no idea. I began walking toward the cabin, still upset, but also feeling bad because I'd gone too far and acted like a child. What I'd said wasn't what I feared. Wasn't what I'd intended to say and I wasn't even sure where the words had come from.

Not even a full two steps into my retreat, his hand clamped down on my upper arm and he whipped me around to face him, firm enough to make me gasp, but somehow not hurting me in the process. His free hand circled my other arm and he gave me a slight shake. "I'm not the same man because I went through hell, Stephanie. Hell. Maybe I'm afraid."

I shook my head, my eyes burning with the effort not to cry, still unable to meet his eyes straight on. "You're never afraid," I whispered.

He gave me another shake and said, "Damn you for being so stubborn." Then he yanked me against his chest. "I never knew what real fear was until I came back to your empty apartment. Not with Abruzzi, not with Stiva, not even with Scrog. Not like that night. When I didn't know how to find you—"

Potent pain seized my heart at the images running through my head of Ranger trying to deal with something he couldn't fix, couldn't change. This man, a true badass with iron will and legendary control, had not been able to stop his own fear. Finally, I looked up and met eyes full of rage, pain, and struggle.

The second our gazes locked, he seethed, "Moved on? With what life? You were gone."

Instantly, he released one of my arms and began a fast walk across the deck to the cabin, pulling me alongside him. He moved so quickly, I practically tripped over my feet to keep up with him. He was rough, almost violent, as we closed in on the bedroom door. I should have been afraid, but the truth was that it was hot. Super hot. And I wanted more. Much, much more.

Once he maneuvered us through the door, he slammed it shut so hard I thought it would jump off its hinges. Then his hands were on me everywhere, tugging off my clothes, gripping my hair. His brisk movements took my breath away.

Before I knew it we were both naked and he had me under the arms, up against his chest on my tiptoes at his eye level. "I'm still yours," he hissed. Then he kissed me. Not the gentle hello kisses he always gave me first thing in the morning. Not the passionate, needy kisses after a few days apart when we were both busy. These kisses seared my very soul. They were rough, emotional, and more intense than anything we'd shared in the past.

His tongue swept through my mouth like wildfire, giving and taking, consuming me in his heat. He knelt on the bed, his muscles bulging as he maneuvered me to the center with one arm holding me around the waist, the other on the bed to balance us. Then he came down on top of me, his hands like flames over my skin, igniting every inch of skin he touched.

"I need you. Now," he rumbled against my lips.

Oh God was I ready. I dug my fingers into his back, urging him on. "I'm … yours," I whispered brokenly. With a roar that sounded more like agony than pleasure, he surged forward, then froze, eyes closed, panting hard. I gasped from the sheer force of his invasion, not from pain, but from the release of emotions. Tears sprang to my eyes. Though I hadn't felt the separation of months as he had, I felt his torment and clung to him.

"You okay?" he gasped with considerable effort, waiting, his eyes blazing with wild passion.

I nodded my head and smiled through the veil of tears and arched my hips upward to encourage him since I couldn't speak through my closed throat.

"I don't want to hurt you," he whispered as he withdrew, "but I can't stop."

"Go," I moaned out. And he did. His thrusts were hard, deep, and tore into my heart. I felt every emotion he'd experienced when I went missing as they came pouring out of him: fear, anger, despair. Each thrust seemed to purge his head and his heart of the demons he'd collected. When I finally cried out with a climax that was almost a religious experience, he continued to pound into me with a ferocity that should have scared me.

Instead, my hormones built up quickly and I was surprised by an explosion as intense as the first. His name spilled from my lips and he followed me over with a harsh shout against my throat, pulsing within me, pouring his heart out into me.

We lay locked together, sweaty and shaking, in the middle of the bed. Arms gripped around slick bodies, legs tangled together, and hearts beating as one drumbeat against the other. He remained still, his mouth pressed to that sensitive spot behind my ear, gasping in deep gulps of air.

Finally his lips nipped at the thin skin pressed against them, tasting the saltiness of my sweat, nibbled down to the crook of my neck, and then he groaned before taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I tried to wait until I had more control, so I could be gentle, slow." I felt his smile against my collarbone. "You never were very patient."

It was true. "Perfect," I mumbled against his hair with a satisfied smile. And then I wanted him to know more than anything how I felt, so he'd always know no matter what happened. "I love you."

He froze. Just when I started to panic about my declaration, he said, "You said it."

"I know." I smiled briefly and then sobered. "I'm sorry I didn't say it before — before."

He sucked in a slow breath and exhaled a puff of warm air against my neck, raising his head to meet my eyes. "I love you, too. I promised myself if we found you, I'd tell you. Every day." He kissed my jaw and then my lips. "With everything I am, I love you."

I smiled, despite the fact that my lips trembled from holding in my tears, and stroked my hands down his back. We loved each other. We were facing the unknown right now, but as long as I had his love I could get through anything. "Mmm," I murmured and slid both of my hands through his sweat slicked hair, then smiled when he moved onto his side to draw me into his arms, my back to his front, just like old times

Except then he went completely rigid. I tried to turn to look at him, but he pulled me close, keeping us locked in a spoon position. I asked, "You okay?"

He didn't answer right away, so I tried to break free and turn over, but he tightened his arms around my waist and pulled me close. "Nothing to worry about right now, babe," he said, leaning down to kiss just below the base of my neck and lingering there for a moment before exhaling and letting the tension leave his body. I snuggled in and enjoyed the feel of having his arms around me again.

We held each other for a long time, our hearts and bodies spent from the argument and the intense lovemaking. No conversation needed. We fell asleep, bodies pressed together as if they couldn't stand any separation. A while later, I woke to the feel of his mouth working its way down my neck. "We need to get ready for dinner," he said quietly.

I glanced at the clock. It was only four. "It's early, can't we sleep some more?" It'd been the best sleep I'd had since waking up in this city.

"I never said I wanted a quick shower."

Oh.

…

Ranger had arranged for a limo to take us to the restaurant. It pleased me no end to see the excitement on Jean Philippe and Elise's faces when they climbed in. Dinner was everything I expected. Ranger was not. The man had always proven he was capable in any situation, so my surprise was unwarranted, but still, seeing Ranger in 'upper crust' mode was a huge jolt to my system.

The older couple was impressed with Ranger, which wasn't a surprise at all. Even though he operated in the street most of the time, he had good manners and I suspected their observation had more to do with how he treated me than anything. Still, I could hardly allow myself to blink because I didn't want to miss anything from his interaction with the wait staff to the conversation he held with the Beaumont's in French.

Later, after we'd dropped Jean Philippe and Elise off at their apartment building, after a slightly tearful goodbye and promises to stay in touch, I turned to Ranger, openly studying him.

"Something on your mind?" The slow, easy smile he gave me made every muscle south of my ribs tighten pleasurably.

I licked my lips and gave myself a mental headshake, reminding myself to focus on his question. There had been something on my mind and I was sure it hadn't been sex.

"Babe?"

I looked at his face and concentrated hard, ignoring the amused tilt of his mouth, and nodded. "Yes. There is." He raised an eyebrow and I lifted my arm, pointing back in the direction of the restaurant. "What was that?"

"Which 'that' do you mean? The restaurant, or the schmooze act?"

"Oh, definitely the schmooze."

He grinned. "Just another disguise. Good or bad?"

"Not sure," I said, studying him with narrowed eyes. "The date isn't over, yet."

Ranger grew completely serious and leaned toward me, curling an arm behind my back and cupping my cheek with his free hand. "Hate to break it to you, but when it comes to this, I don't play. I don't act. I'm me, and that's all I'll ever be when it's just us."

I wasn't certain I could respond given the sudden swelling of my throat and eyes. I nodded and pulled him close by the lapels, grasping them in my hands to stop their trembling. Never had I experienced anything as honest as what I had with him. It was an incomparable freedom I'd never settle without now.

He pulled me against him and kissed me with a potency that punctuated his statement. I couldn't help but think how strange the day had been. Emotions on high, tempers with short fuses, and then a happiness so true I was afraid at some point I'd wake up and find it'd been a dream.

The limo stopped in front of a very pricey looking hotel. I ducked my head to look out the passenger window so I could see up the building's façade, taking in the detail, and then glanced up at Ranger.

He shrugged slightly. "The boat was only for today. We need a headquarters."

Right. The big mystery. I stared at Ranger and he stared back. The silent agreement was somehow made without any expression or words: tonight was about us and us alone.