Simon Says Die

He’d always been able to set her blood on fire with the slightest touch, the brush of his lips against the curve of her neck, the stroke of his warm hand across her hip. She moved away from the doors, away from temptation.
    Even if her past didn’t stand between them, there was a far bigger barrier to overcome.
    His fiancée.
    The idea of him with another woman was like a bucket of ice water, washing over her heated skin.
    â€œWhy shouldn’t I run?” she taunted, still angry about being handcuffed, and angry that he was trying to force her to let him help her.
    â€œBecause I’d have to catch you again, and that would really piss me off. I’m already late for a meeting.” His voice was muffled, as if he were in a closet.
    She ran her fingers across the cold glass top of the brass coffee table, with its vulgar display of flea-market-quality statues. The man she remembered had favored antiques, like the car he drove. Simple lines, nothing fancy, or gaudy.
    The paintings on the walls displayed a nauseating lack of talent. She could have painted something better back in her high school art class. Pierce was strong, solid, reliable, and sexy as hell. This house didn’t reflect any of that.
    His fiancée must be the one with the tacky decorating taste.
    She turned away from the offensive paintings and started in surprise.
    The same young woman he’d brought to her brother’s wedding stood in the entryway just inside the front door. Her long, red hair hung down in luxurious waves across her pale shoulders. She raised a perfectly plucked brow and started toward Madison, her high heels clicking on the marble floor.
    â€œPierce.” Madison raised her voice to make sure he would hear her. “You’ve got company.”
    The woman stopped in front of her and crossed her arms over her ample chest.
    The sinking feeling in Madison’s stomach told her who the woman was even before Pierce stepped out of the bedroom.
    The lousy decorator.
    His fiancée.
    â€œI’m not company , darling. I live here,” she purred, her green eyes riveted on Madison before they flashed to Pierce. “What’s she doing here?”
    Madison stiffened and gritted her teeth in the closest semblance of a smile that she could manage. “I’m here to take you to the shooting range, darling .”
    Pierce gave Madison a warning look before turning his attention to the redhead. “Tessa, why are you here? You’re supposed to be . . .” He glanced at Madison before looking back at the other woman. “You had an appointment.”
    â€œWe both had an appointment. I called, but you didn’t answer your cell.” Her long-lashed eyes zeroed in on Madison. “I guess I know why.”
    â€œWe need to talk.” He grabbed her hand and anchored her beside him.
    Madison stepped away, not wanting to get any more involved in this dispute than she already was.
    Pierce pointed at her. “Wait right there. Do not make me chase you again.”
    â€œAgain?” Tessa exclaimed. “What is going on?”
    Miserable, and more uncomfortable than she could ever remember being, Madison inched farther away from the unhappy couple. Pierce pulled Tessa into the bedroom and closed the double doors.
    Determined not to dwell on the image of Pierce shut in the bedroom with that cover model , Madison turned away. She froze when she noticed what she’d missed when she’d first entered the room.
    Photographs, dozens of them, tucked into the bookshelf, sitting on an end table. Pictures of Pierce with his long-legged fiancée. Pictures of them at dinner in a fancy restaurant. Pictures of them laughing with another couple, cooking steaks on a grill.
    Kissing.
    Pain knifed through Madison, stealing her breath. Her pulse hammered in her ears. She’d given him up, afraid to trust feelings that had happened too fast and burned too hot, desperately afraid she was making the same mistake she’d made with her former husband.
    But instead of fading in time, those feelings were stronger today than they’d ever been. And right now it was killing her seeing him with someone else. She had to get out of this torture chamber. But she didn’t want to run out the door and make him think she was running away again.
    Retreating to the hallway on the opposite side of the family room, she occupied herself exploring the two bedrooms. Other than the subpar