"No!" Vanda snatched it from his hand. "You're not dancing in this monstrosity. I design the costumes, and I'll tell you what to wear."

"That'th not fair," Peter whined. "I had that cuth-tom made to fit me perfectly."

"No way," Freddie grumbled. "You would have to use padding."

Peter huffed. "I never uthe padding."

"You would have to." Vanda set the costume on the desk. "There isn't a man on earth who could fill that thing."

"I'm not so sure about that." Terrance glanced at Phil and winked.

Phil had had all he could take. "This meeting is over." He gave the men a warning look and motioned to the door. "You will leave."

"What?" Vanda's eyes flashed with anger. "You can't do that! This is my—" She paused when Peter and Freddie scurried from the room. " — office."

Terrance stopped halfway out the door and grinned at her. "Be nice, girlfriend. This one's a keeper."

"Out," Phil growled.

"Oooh." Terrance shivered. "Me Tarzan, you Phil." He ran out.

Phil shut the door. "Now we can talk."

Vanda glared at him. "I'm not talking to you. You're acting like a caveman."

"I suppose you prefer those pretty little boys who are easy to control. Easier to control than your own anger—"

"My anger's just fine!" She grabbed Peter's costume off the desk and threw it at him. "Get out!"

He caught the thong with one hand and turned it over as he examined it. "Thank you, Vanda. It's just my size."

She snorted. "A man would have to be aroused to fill that up."

He lifted his gaze to meet hers. "Not a problem."

Her gaze flitted down to his pants, then jerked away. "What—Why did you come here?"

He walked toward her. "You left Romatech in a hurry. We were in the middle of a conversation."

Her eyes darkened to a stormy gray. "The conversation was over."