How could she have been so wrong about this woman? Rachel wondered. The poor betrayed brunette suddenly knew that she was in the presence of a power just as coolly commanding as that of the man who had mastered her so utterly the night before. Yet whereas that fiendish academic was driven by what started out as the natural desire of man for the alluring female form, this lady’s predilections were far more unnatural—and perhaps, Rachel thought, shrinking inwardly, far more unpredictable. It was terrible, terrible…
“And how many supposedly chaperoned pajama-party sleepovers,” the woman went on, “have ended up not at a girlfriend’s house but instead in a big king-sized bed at some four-star hotel, alone with me? Oh, no need for pajamas there! To wallow in silk sheets beneath a mirrored ceili
