The Ruthless Caleb Wilde

He was a man who’d known lots of women. Who’d had lots of sex. Who knew the pleasure, the joy, the wonder of it …

But never like this. Never like—

Caleb’s thoughts blurred.

She was trembling. Sobbing. She said his name, said it again, and then she gave a cry of such ecstasy that it drove him straight to the edge.

“Sage,” he said.

Her muscles contracted around him.

She screamed, he threw back his head and they tumbled off the edge of the universe together.

Locked in each other’s arms, they slept deeply and dreamlessly until something woke him.

A sound. A noise.

For a couple of seconds, he didn’t know where he was.

Then the woman beside him sighed and it all came back. Meeting her. Bringing her here. Staying the night …

Making love with her.

He smiled. Bent over her sleeping form and pressed a soft kiss into her hair.

Light was coming in through the window. He could hear sounds from the street. That must have been what had wakened him.

He was accustomed to the silence of his Dallas penthouse condo, the Wilde ranch.

Could Sage grow accustomed to those same things?

The thought stunned him.

Why would he even think along those lines? Yes, he wanted to see her again, whenever he was in New York….

Unless he could see her in Dallas.

Crazy idea. Absolutely nuts.

What he needed was some coffee.

He rolled carefully from the bed, tugged on his trousers and padded, barefoot, into the kitchen.

The spill was as it had been the night before. No problem. He’d clean it up but first …

He’d said he’d find her a place to live. A job. Did it matter if he did it here or in Dallas?

“Hell, man,” he whispered, “of course it matters …”

But it wouldn’t hurt to make, what, an exploratory phone call. Check things out …

Caleb padded into the living room. His cell phone was on the coffee table, where he’d left it. He picked it up, went back into the kitchen, hit the button that dialed his brother, Travis.

Travis answered on the eighth ring.

“This better be good, man,” he grumbled, “because it might be six in the morning in New York but here, in the real world, it’s—”

“What do you know about the theater in Dallas?”