Nick Renault took a sip of his sparkling water and glanced at his diver's watch, counting the minutes until he could get out of this meat market. He'd only come to appease his concerned sister-in-law, Simone. He'd stay long enough for Immy to report back to Simone that he'd cooperated, and then he had to head out for a business meeting. Simone had claimed he was turning into a cynical workaholic since his divorce six years ago.

He frowned as her words replayed in his mind. You've spent enough time moping over that stupid woman, Nicky. It's time you learned to relax, let go, have a little fun. A lot she knew, work was fun for him, and building his empire in spite of the fact that he'd been born on the wrong side of the blanket had driven him to the top. The fact that he'd rescued his aristocratic father's family despite their displeasure only made it sweeter. There was a big difference between moping and being busy.

He went still when a bewitching redhead stepped out onto the catwalk, forgetting all about business. Her hair, a fiery blend of copper, gold and auburn, tumbled around her shoulders, reminding him of a fire goddess he'd seen once in a painting. Pink frilly underwear enhanced her full figure, shapely breasts, and the womanly flare of her hips. From where he sat, he could make out the shape of her stiff little nipples ... perfect pink strawberries just waiting for his attention. Well hell, this was a distraction he didn't need. Still, his mouth all but watered as he looked at her and he picked up the excitement in her tip-tilted blue eyes.

Her sexy little mouth formed a perfect O as they locked gazes, and his damned cock twitched in response. She was a trifle scared and a lot turned on. What he wouldn't give to have those pouty lips wrapped around his randy cock.

He didn't want a relationship, but his throbbing cock wasn't listening. She was new to the game; he could tell the gorgeous little lady was getting off on the experience. He was also sure that she didn't have a clue about the true rules of the game. His thoughts darkened as he glanced at some of the other sharks trolling these particular waters. Growing up the hard way, he knew bad blood when he saw it, even if it was tied up in a slick package. He shuddered to think of this impertinent redhead being under anyone else's dominion. He knew that a few of the Doms in the audience had bad reputations. Could he really risk the innocent redhead being sold to that sort of Dom?

Shit, he was finding himself irritatingly close to signing his life away for the next three months--a summer of lust.

Laura locked eyes with the compelling hunk in the front row like he was a lifeline. Concentrating on him was the only way she could get through this. He had dark hair and eyes, a sultry mouth that screamed sex appeal, and an aura of strength that set him apart from the other dilatants. Whoever the sultry hunk was, he might actually be able to make her come. The others faded into oblivion as she stared at the forceful stranger, her whole body coming to attention. The air conditioning kicked in, fluttering against her breasts, making her nipples tingle and harden while her pulse raced.

The PA system came on and the announcer said, "This is Laura. A college graduate with a degree in art history. She's a novice, but quite charming as you can see. From her contract, she is open to most fetishes and is eager to try a few."

Laura blushed, hearing herself auctioned off and her lack of experience explained. It was all happening too fast. And then the forceful hunk she'd been staring at got up to leave, making her gasp. For a moment, he caught her gaze, and her knees grew weak, but then he turned and walked away. Her hopes, not to mention her excitement, fizzled.

Shit, why had she let herself hope that he'd want her? She rushed offstage, sure that she'd blown it. Why else had the only truly desirable man in the audience left right in the middle of her pathetic performance? The next step would be to call home, beg George her old boss at The Tribune for her job back at the paper and an advance, and then crawl back home on her knees.

Madame Imogene grabbed her wrist as she came offstage. "Come with me, my dear, to sign your papers."

"Papers?" she said with a gasp and looked at Imogene's twinkling eyes. "You don't mean someone bought me?"

A dizzying fifteen minutes later, Laura found herself alone in the back of a black limousine as it sped out of Paris and into the countryside. She'd been told her buyer's name and that she was going to his summer home, but little else. Who the hell had bought her and why hadn't he picked her up personally? She was dying to know, because she didn't know if she could actually go through with this.

The weirdest part of this adventure so far was the detailed past history Imogene made her fill out, right down to the erotica she liked to read. The lady ought to be a spy rather than a madam. She supposed her would-be master wanted to make sure that she was trustworthy and wouldn't steal the silver. Not to mention that she would be willing to service his needs. Why had she been so upfront about her wicked fantasies? Just because she favored kink in her mind didn't mean she'd enjoy it when it really happened. What if the man is a sadist? Does Madame Imogene have a way of weeding out the bad guys? At least she knew that he'd passed a blood test and she'd passed too. It was the one thing they had in common.

When the limo pulled into the long manicured driveway of a gorgeous French château, she was stunned. This wasn't some little summer place, it was a mansion. Her master was obviously no pauper. She noticed the driver punching in a code to open the gate. Once the gate opened, the car smoothly pulled up to the house and she knew it was time to jump ship or do what she came here for.

"Well, you waiting for an engraved invitation or what?" the driver snapped through the speaker.

Laura jumped in reaction. His thick Chicago accent both surprised and comforted her. Another American! She was going to smile when he turned to scowl at her. After she recovered, she scowled right back at him as she appraised him. He wasn't wearing a chauffeur's uniform, and with his salt and pepper hair and heavy physique, he reminded her of an aging prizefighter. What is a fellow expatriate doing driving for Imogene? Maybe he'd been stranded here, too. But his fierce glare told her he didn't want to talk to her. She could take a hint.

Without a word, she opened the limo's door and got out. The longer she put off meeting her buyer, the more her apprehension grew. It was better to get it over with. With that thought in mind, she walked up to the door and knocked. She stepped back when a butler opened the door and peered down his long nose at her.

He flicked a sour glance at the leaving limo, then looked back at her. "Go away."

She frowned back at him, irritated. Her would-be owner was one hard man to get to, but this forbidding gatekeeper wouldn't run her off. "No. I'm here for Mr. Renault."

"He's not here," the butler said, starting to close the door.

Laura stuck her foot in the door, refusing to be brushed off. She needed this job and she had to see what she was getting into. "I'll wait."

Nick parked his motorcycle in the carriage house and made his way to the front of the chateau. The tableau he saw played out on his doorstep made his mouth twitch with laughter. Laura, his feisty American courtesan, was standing on his doorstep and staring down Bridges, her chin tightened in defiance. She had a lot of attitude; he had to give her that, because anyone who could hold her own with his ill-tempered butler had spunk.

He'd rushed through his meeting with the Lax Consortium, much to Mike Labroid's surprise. And his eagerness to get to her was irritating. True, he was about to start out on his annual vacation, but that didn't mean he had to get totally absorbed in her. He stepped up behind her. She was so engrossed in her standoff with Lance Bridges that she didn't even notice him.

"I'm telling you that I'm expected," she said, heatedly. "Imogene sent me."

Nick smiled when he heard her sass and let his appreciative gaze linger on her full curves. She was dressed in a peasant blouse and denim skirt, both of which clung to her luscious body in all the right places. And she was flushed, her tone and body language militant. She was excited, but cautious. At least she was smart enough to realize that she was in over her head. She was just lucky that he was a good master. His blood heated as he silently tracked her, confirming his impulsive decision to buy her services.

Hell, he never acted on impulse. Knee-jerk emotions were bad for business. But the moment he'd laid eyes on Laura he'd known he had to have her. Now that she was here, he'd have to make the best of things. Maybe Simone was right, he needed to blow off steam and decompress, and the fire goddess would be a challenge.

Her scent, when he drew nearer, intrigued him, strawberries and sweet woman. She was completely natural. He breathed in deeply. "It's all right, Bridges. I'll take it from here. I'm expecting the lady." He waited while Laura turned to gape at him. Her expression went from troubled to hopeful in a heartbeat, hitting him where he lived. He told himself not to take it personally. He was just a means to an end for her and he couldn't afford to forget it.