Stepping into her modest-sized apartment was like walking into a different building. She'd gone to great lengths to mask the rundown place she lived in by decorating her space in a sort of shabby Old World style. The cracks in the walls gave the purple and gold paint treatment character. The vibrant space with pillows everywhere, furniture restyled from cast-offs and more color than the average color wheel could only be described as eye-popping.

Who the hell was this woman? For the first time since he'd met her, he looked beyond the beauty and luscious curves to realize he knew next to nothing about her.

"Wow, this is quite a transformation from the rest of your building." He walked the perimeter of the area, peering into the few doors that led off the main room. Color and style met him everywhere.

"It's amazing what you can do with a little imagination and a can of paint or two." She spoke quietly from near the door as if afraid to come too close to him.

"You have the eye of an artist. What are you doing working as my receptionist with talent like this?"

"It's no big deal. Besides, I don't have a lot of experience. Do you know how few people in this town are willing to take a chance on someone without it?" She edged to the couch and took a seat in one corner, immediately covering most of her body by hugging a fat purple pillow to her chest.

"Are you afraid of me, Eve?" He didn't like the wary look on her face. She seemed skittish.

"I don't know how to be with you after this afternoon," she whispered.

Chase winced at the obvious damage his gruff behavior had caused. Way to go, dumbass.

"I didn't mean for you to take it personally. The requirements attached to that commission are pretty intense. Not something I would normally consider an amateur for."

She turned away from him, but not before he noticed the lovely shade of crimson blooming across her face.

"I wouldn't have volunteered if I didn't have an idea of what I was getting into. I'm not stupid."

Her insolence gave him dirtier thoughts than it should. He needed to get out of here before he did something stupid, like fuck her. His hard-on grew along with the increasing images that filtered through his mind. The couch she sat on had been created from an old wrought-iron bed frame with knobs and spindles, perfect to tie her to. Hell, the entire apartment was a rigger's dream. The open ceiling beams alone gave him a myriad of ideas for photographs. He could already imagine her in an old-fashioned corset and leggings with her hair piled on top of her head. Her body shape would make a delicious pinup shoot.

Bettie Page had nothing on her, and a bondage artist like Murphy would think he'd died and gone to heaven in a place like this. Chase made another mental note to bring his camera the next time he visited.

First things first. "I don't think you're stupid at all. But there are things in the order that could send you running for the hills and Murphy kind of likes having you around as the receptionist."

"Murphy likes having me around." Not a question, but a statement that implied the question. Despite the urges this woman created, he'd come here to offer her a job and in doing so had to remain professional. He reached into his jacket and pulled a small manila folder from the pocket. He laid the folder on the coffee table and pushed it in her direction.

"The rejection really wasn't personal. Appearance-wise we couldn't ask for a more perfect model." He enjoyed watching her eyes widen in surprise and her mouth open to say something and then close again when she changed her mind. He could practically see the gears turning in her head as she tried to figure him out. Little did she know he thrived on keeping a submissive off balance.

"I'm not convinced you truly understand what you offered yourself up for, but I've decided to let you read for yourself and then decide." He held up his hand to stop her response. "No, until you read through this you're not ready. Even then you may not be. So I've outlined the exact client requirements for you and included a copy of the hard-core model contract. If, and only if, you read it thoroughly can you give me an answer. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." Her simple answer made his dick swell more. It didn't matter that her use of Sir probably only came out of respect for an employer. The sound uttered from her lips enflamed a need that had been sizzling for weeks.

"Tell me about your bondage experience. Have you even been restrained before?" Again she blushed to the roots of her hair, and he sighed in resignation. A complete novice would never work. He should snatch the folder and hightail it out of here. Until he noticed the sheen of tears swimming in her eyes.

"Once," she uttered.

Chase sighed. She wasn't going to make this easy for him, and the thought of having to drag it out of her did not sound fun. "And?"

"And I don't want to talk about it." She tossed the pillow aside and pulled her legs underneath her chin.

Alarm bells went off for Chase. Time to say forget it and get the hell out of Dodge. "Just tell me one thing and I'll let it go for now. Did someone hurt you?"

The air in the room grew thick and heavy in the few seconds she didn't answer. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and shook her head. A huge sigh of relief swept through Chase. Unfortunately stories of women being taken too far or being used badly in the name of BDSM were all too frequent in the community, and the thought of someone taking advantage of this one twisted his gut.

"I'm not looking to be rescued, Chase. I'm a big girl capable of making my own decisions. But I haven't been with a man in over two years, and I need this. Please, give me a chance."

Chase sat stunned at her revelation. Now he definitely wanted to know more. He had so many questions he didn't know where to start.

She picked up the folder. "Do you want me to read this now? Are you going to insist on watching me go through every word?"

Ooh, the sass. He had just the thing for a mouth like that. Unfortunately he couldn't go there-yet. "No." He stood and moved toward the door. "You read through it and decide by morning. Either way, you still have a job at Altered Ego and I'll expect you at the office at nine a.m. sharp with your cute shoes and a decision."

Eve had stood from the couch and walked in the direction of the front door while he spoke, and now he took two strides toward her. She stepped back. "If you sign that contract, there will be no going back. Everything changes, no matter how hard you try."

Chapter Three.

Eve leaned against the door and breathed deep. Chase's sensual threat had gone straight to her pussy despite her best intentions. Hell, everything about the damned man went straight there. He personified sex with his gorgeous looks, but his voice was pure sin. She'd been horrified to find him at her door. Ever since she'd fled from the office today, she'd heard nothing but "no" over and over in her head. And the look on his face when he'd uttered it tortured her.

Now he'd come and gone, not with an apology but with an excuse for why he'd reacted the way he had. And a folder. She'd read his damned contract, but she didn't care what the hell it said.

After two years of nothing but sickness and death, with no man in sight, she needed a boost when it came to getting her life back on track. This-she opened the folder and stared at the requirements-this would teach her once and for all if the fantasies she harbored could be more than mere figments of her imagination.

It was no accident she'd been drawn to Altered Ego when a position opened up. Fate had shone down on her. If Chase had gone a step closer to her bedroom, he would have seen a very familiar sight. Eve had ordered more than one of his black-and-white erotic prints from his Web site and had them framed and hung in her bedroom.

When she'd decided to gut her father's apartment and start from scratch, she'd saved her bedroom for last. Chase and Murphy inspired quite a bit of the design without even knowing it. Eve wandered into her room and curled up on the big, plush bed. She glanced at the half-empty bottle of wine she'd been working her way through before she'd been interrupted. There'd be more of that later.

Exhaling a shaky breath, she laid out the folder in front of her and opened the flap. The familiar logo of Altered Ego was emblazoned across the top of the paper with the details listed below.

Her gaze skimmed to the pertinent information she sought. Words such as "insertion," "predicament," and "forced orgasms" leaped from the page. Panic swelled inside her, alongside the familiar sensation of fear. She tamped down those feelings and straightened her spine. They are just words typed out on white paper. Nothing to be afraid of.

She forced herself to breathe deep and exhale slowly and start at the beginning. This client wanted a long list of things to be included in the commission. Some would require clothes and some would not. All of them included her being restrained in some fashion, with an emphasis on rope bondage instead of cuffs or shackles.

The sessions would be long in order for Chase and Murphy to create the artistry the client requested, and her job would be to do more than simply lie there and go along for the ride. There were a myriad of emotions marked on the standard checklist. Eve turned the page, unwilling to linger on the details for too long. She wouldn't be deterred.

The standard contract had far more detail, but Chase didn't know she'd already seen one of these. One of the models had dropped one off last week, and since the envelope had not been sealed, curiosity got the better of her. Pretty much by signing this document, she gave permission to Altered Ego, and Chase and Murphy by way of ownership, to do anything they saw fit during a shoot.

Including sex for photographic purposes.

Nerves fluttered in her stomach at the thought of being taken by Murphy while Chase captured the pictures. A quick twinge of guilt caught her off guard, which she quickly pushed away. Good girls weren't supposed to be this excited about the cold, clinical way these acts were portrayed in black and white. This wasn't a date, nor was it a romance, she reminded herself. She had something to prove to herself, and she wanted to do something different. Something so far outside her comfort zone she'd never want to go back. She didn't want to be the good girl anymore. It was time to be the bad girl.

She hastily picked up a pen she'd left lying on the nightstand, and signed across the dotted line.

Fuck it.

If she couldn't take a chance with someone like Chase, she never would. He'd maintained a strange distance between them most of the time, yet she still got to know him. She trusted him not to hurt her. At least physically.

She planned to go in guarding her heart and prayed she wouldn't regret it.

Precisely at nine a.m. sharp, Eve swiped her employee card through the security pad on the back door of the building that housed the photo studio. Both Chase's and Murphy's cars were already in the parking lot. She'd carefully chosen one of the most conservative business suits she owned, along with the most outrageous pair of four-inch heels she possessed.

Underneath said outfit was a completely different story. After the first few weeks of working at Altered Ego, she'd begun to change how she dressed underneath her plain skirts and blouses. She'd been determined to feel sexy despite her size and ordered all new lingerie. On days she felt particularly scandalous, she would wear no panties underneath her skirt and a thin lace bra that did little to hide her hard nipples poking underneath.

Today was not one of those days.

She'd picked matching black lace panties and bra. Chase had given her no indication of when the shoot would begin if she accepted, so she'd decided to come prepared just in case. At the front entrance, she grasped the handle on the frosted glass door and pulled it open. Eve half expected Chase and Murphy to be standing in the lobby waiting for her. Instead the hum of the aquarium in the corner greeted her along with the scent of freshly brewed coffee.

Mmm. A super shot of caffeine sounded like the perfect way to start her day. No messages sat on her desk, and everything remained exactly as she'd left it the afternoon before. Eve dropped her bag and the folder on her desk and headed in the direction of the small kitchen. She hadn't gotten three feet away when the intercom buzzed.

"Eve, did you bring the Smith folder with you this morning?" The tone of Chase's question told her nothing. She wasn't surprised. He probably excelled at card games with that damned poker face of his.

She rushed as fast as she could on four-inch heels back to her desk, depressed the intercom button, and spoke. "Yes, sir, it's here on my desk."

"Could you please bring it in?"

"Of course." Oh boy, here we go. He hadn't even let her get her morning coffee before she had to face him with her answer. Eve scooped up the folder and headed for Chase's office. No doubt he and Murphy would be waiting and Chase would have told him everything about their conversation from the night before.

Outside his door, she plastered on her hopeful smile and entered his space. Chase didn't look up from his computer, nor did he greet her in any way. She waited a few seconds, unsure how to proceed.

"I've got the file here for you. I-"

"Good." He interrupted. "Just leave it there in my box."

Shocked by his disinterest, Eve dropped the file, turned, and walked out the door. After everything she'd put herself through in anticipation of seeing him this morning, the letdown of being summarily dismissed crippled her.

Coffee forgotten, she fell into her chair and stared at her computer screen. Why hadn't he said anything? He didn't even ask if she'd signed the agreement. And where the hell was Murphy? She'd already noticed that his office was empty this morning and had assumed he'd be waiting with Chase. She poked her head over the partition and stared in the direction of the studio. Sure enough the door was closed tight and the busy light was on. She leafed through the appointment book to see what was scheduled, only to find they had nothing until eleven o'clock this morning.

So why then was Murphy shut in the studio and Chase sitting in his office staring at the screen? She had half a mind to head into the dressing room and take a peek, but the chance of getting caught was too great. Certainly her boss would not be pleased if he discovered her spying on a session.

Hours passed as Eve went about her morning routine. Answering calls and sorting through e-mails as well as what was delivered by the mailman. Every time Eve moved, the lace of her bra rubbed across her nipples until they'd gone beyond sensitive to wildly aroused. Constant images of Chase and Murphy surrounding her flooded her mind. Simply every move, every thought kept her continuously on edge until she thought she'd go mad.

She'd glance at the clock and squirm endlessly in her chair, the wait excruciating. She'd expected Chase to give her a hard time this morning, to try and talk her out of the job. Them ignoring her had never crossed her mind. It served as a stark reminder that this was simply a job. Not a date. Not a love affair. A job that she'd signed a contract to do.

Still, her panties stayed wet and her budded tips brushing against fabric made it difficult for her not to moan. Not exactly the kind of professional behavior they probably expected. Sweat dotted her forehead as she crossed and uncrossed her legs.

Fuck.

If it wasn't her nipples, it was her clit. Eve inhaled a slow, steady breath and sat completely still. If she could slow her pulse, she could certainly get things back under control. This kind of wanton behavior was not her. She picked up the bottle of water on her desk and with shaky hands brought it to her lips. Cool water splashed down her throat. She wished she could dump it over her head. Maybe then she'd stop thinking about being touched. Or imagining what Chase looked like underneath his clothing.

Not once in all of her spying had he so much as removed a shirt. Didn't stop her from noticing the way the muscles moved and bunched the cloth as he worked, though. God, what the hell was wrong with her?

Eve gave up trying to slow her breathing and gulped for much-needed air instead. Perspiration trailed down her spine and into the edge of her skirt. If they didn't say something soon, she'd have to go to the restroom and get herself off. Whatever it took to take the edge off. Why wait? So far nothing had happened and she owed them nothing. Chase and his fucking computer could take a flying leap for keeping her at bay like this. Making her wonder what he planned to do.

She smoothed down the edge of her skirt and straightened her spine. Five minutes in the bathroom was all she needed. Maybe less. Screw Chase and the horse he rode in on. She didn't need this bullshit. She fucking needed relief. A few seconds later, only three feet lay between her and relief as she headed for the restroom.

"Come into the studio," Chase commanded from the doorway closest to her.

Her heart lurched in her chest, a gasp falling from her mouth. "Jesus, Chase, you scared the hell out of me."

He quirked his brows in her direction before turning away to stride back into the studio he'd mysteriously come from. Hours and hours she'd waited, and she'd never noticed he came out of his office and went into the studio. What else didn't she notice?

She needed to wash her face and freshen up. The way she'd been stressing the last hour had to show in her appearance by now. With a last wistful glance at the bathroom, she hurried through the door to the studio. Some trouble just wasn't worth it, and if they wanted to talk to her about the modeling job, she'd best not keep them waiting. Besides, she got the distinct impression that Chase expected to be obeyed.

Feeling hot and surly, she barely refrained from sticking her tongue out at his back. Her nerves from the morning had finally quieted down, and her interest in all of this had waned. She spotted Murphy splayed out on the velvet couch in the corner with various props spread on the seat next to him. Coils of black rope, a red flogger, and a short brown leather riding crop.

Instantly her panties dampened and her heart raced. So much for playing it cool.

"Stand there." Chase pointed to the middle of the room. Where a spotlight shone bright. Eve complied, silently moving except for the click of her heels on the wood floor. Whatever happened next, she desperately hoped she could go through with it. Because standing still, knowing that Murphy watched her every move, unnerved her more than she'd expected.

Chase picked up one of his cameras and turned to face her. He looked her over from head to toe before examining her through the lens. Each click of the camera shutter thundered through the room, nearly matching the roughshod beat of her racing pulse.

"Since you brought in a signed contract, I'm not going to ask again if you're sure. You'll simply follow the instructions either of us give." Chase didn't let up with the pictures, and other than stand there and wait, she didn't know what else to do.

"Relax. Don't tense up. No one is going to hurt you. Much."

Murphy snickered from the couch behind her at Chase's last comment. She thought she knew exactly how things would go, but now she wasn't so sure.

"Lose the skirt and blouse."

Compelled to move, Eve reached behind her and grasped the hook at the waistband of her skirt. Her hands trembled.

"Allow me." Murphy breathed into her ear. He'd silently moved from the couch and now brushed her hand aside. Deft fingers finessed the hook open and slid the zipper down. Warm hands caressed her bare waist, sweeping the fabric down her hips and thighs. Suddenly, cool air rushed across her lace-covered sex, causing Eve to gasp at the sudden sensation.

Murphy kept silent while he worked, although this close he had to know exactly how aroused she was. She stepped gingerly from her skirt so as not to lose her balance. Even with practice, these heels were treacherous.

Automatically her hands went to the tiny buttons of her blouse.

Murphy grabbed her wrist and stopped her. "I will do it." The hardened tone of his voice sent shivers racing up and down her spine. He cupped her chin and brought her gaze to his. "Eyes on me, sexy."

Oh Lord, he was beautiful.

With eyes the color of deep dark chocolate staring into her, it was all Eve could do not to moan in ecstasy. The heated look he gave her melted her insides as he unhooked one button at a time until her shirt lay open, his fingers brushing the roundness of her stomach. Nervous currents of electricity zapped through her with every new touch. She desperately wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and hide from the momentary embarrassment of the most gorgeous man she'd ever laid eyes on touching her. Her.

Murphy stepped close to push the offending shirt from her shoulders. Heat enveloped her, warmed her through. It took every ounce of willpower not to reach for him, to pull him close and rub all over him. He smelled so fucking good. A little like sex and a lot like wild man. Maybe it was the persona she'd built around him. But as far as she could tell, he lived up to every bad boy, sex-starved fantasy she'd included him in.

Suddenly, the heat was gone and Murphy stood back so Chase could take more pictures. The camera clicked continuously, and she swore he had to have photographed every blessed inch of her body when he finally stopped and brought the camera to his side.

"Why are you here, Eve?"

"To prove to myself that even curves are erotic," she blurted out.

Chase's eyes narrowed. "Bullshit."