"No way!" he growled, a frown of impatience darkening his face. "I have to get back to New York tomorrow, and I intend to settle this tonight. I’ll have to make do with you." He stepped aggressively into the hall, and Tamara was forced to move aside to avoid being swept out of his path. The nerve of the man!

"I'm afraid I also have plans for the evening so you'll have to leave now," she said crisply. She wasn't about to be intimidated by this macho lout!

His dark eyes narrowed dangerously. "I'd advise you to climb off that high horse. I'm mad as hell, and not in the mood for any of your histrionics, Cleopatra. You might find yourself occupying the same jail cell as your aunt if you're not careful."

"Jail! You're absolutely insane. Will you please get out of here?"

"When I do leave, it will be to go directly to the police. I don't think you'd want me to do that. I understand your great-aunt is a little old to be thrown into the holding tank, isn't she?" His voice was coolly ruthless, and Tamara felt a shiver of apprehension cutting through the antagonism she felt for this man.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Rex Brody," he answered tautly. "And you're Tamara Ledford, right?"

"Right," she echoed. On reflection, all his remarks had betrayed an odd familiarity for a perfect stranger. "But how did you know that, Mr. Brody?"

His lips twisted cynically. "I know all about you, babe. I've spent the last two hours being filled in on all the juicy details of your aunt's operation. I even know about your little affair with Walter Bettencourt."

"My affair with-"

"I've got to admit I can understand his being unfaithful to my aunt a little better now that I've seen you," he drawled, his eyes lingering on the silken thrust of her breasts in the low-cut gown. "From what I hear, you have the reputation for being very accommodating to half the male population of this horse-and-buggy town. He'd have to be a monk to resist an experienced little madam like you."