"Hello, Lyra," he said.

His voice was low, dark, infused with power, utterly masculine.

She turned coolly to face him, amazed that she was able to maintain a degree of self-control now that the confrontation was upon her. She even managed an icy bright smile.

Nothing had changed, especially not his hunter's eyes. She had seen those eyes night after night in her dreams. Like the black stone in the heavy ring he wore, they were obsidian dark with green fires burning in the depths.

His hair was just as black as she remembered it, still cut close and short. The roughly sculpted planes and angles of his hard face were just as thrillingly feral. An intimate excitement swept through her.

Down, girl.

"Good evening, Mr. Sweetwater," she said, giving him smooth surprise for all she was worth. "I wasn't aware that you were interested in picking up antiquities at gallery auctions. I was under the impression that you preferred to acquire whatever you wanted with more direct methods."

"Such as?" Cruz raised one black brow, politely quizzical.

"Oh, say, by crushing the competition," Lyra said sweetly.

Nancy gasped and choked on her champagne. "For heaven's sake, Lyra."

Cruz looked at her. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Cruz Sweetwater."

"Yes, of course, Mr. Sweetwater," Nancy said. She coughed a couple of times but recovered quickly. "I'm Nancy Halifax. Halifax Gallery in the Old Quarter? I'm sure you've never heard of it. I specialize in modern art."

"A pleasure to meet you, Nancy. Lyra mentioned you several times."

"Back when you two were seeing each other, you mean?" Nancy asked.

Cruz looked at Lyra. "Yes."

"Back when I believed that Mr. Sweetwater was a legitimate client who wished to engage my professional services," Lyra said evenly. "Back when he was using a phony name."