As the CEO of Regional Bank, I was a dominant female-a no-nonsense woman, driven to succeed. Every aspect of my life was controlled. Every single one. But at the end of the day, I hadn't figured out why I felt so adrift and unfulfilled. Then, the awakening came-the one role in which I didn't want to dominate, I didn't want to control-and it hit me like a crash of lightning. I realized my need for submission in one area. I wanted-no, needed-someone to control me, to give me the freedom to exist without decisions, and enjoy life under someone else's direction. It had been so long since I'd had it, I couldn't remember what an essential part of me it had truly been.

My heart burned for a man who could tame my attitude, who could give me a look and heat the pool between my legs, whose glance sent me to my knees in submission, waiting for instructions. I desired with every fiber of my being to have a man take over, to trust him to care for me and nourish my soul.

I dated a guy who had pushed my limits years ago, made me succumb to his needs and provided for my own. I was young and naïve. I considered the things he had wanted to do with me taboo and lived with silent shame because I basked in my love for it, relished the dynamic. I had gotten off on his pulling my hair, spanking me, taking my ass, binding and restraining me, but living in the heart of the Bible Belt, those weren't things people discussed, and they sure didn't promote their enjoyment of them. I was a closet freak who eventually hid my alter ego so deeply that I could no longer see it, either. When the relationship ended, it had left a void I never filled again...that was until I met Dax.

Dax Cooper.

He strolled into my office to make a delivery, and for whatever reason, the receptionist hadn't stopped him; instead, she'd pointed him directly to me. My door was open when he lightly rapped his knuckles on the heavy wood. Glancing up, he loomed in my doorway brooding, and my breath caught in my throat as I struggled to acknowledge him. The power and confidence he exuded standing there in his brown uniform with the little yellow logo on the pocket of his shirt, holding my package in one hand and his tablet in the other rendered me speechless.

His tan was exposed by the short sleeves of his shirt, toned and tatted forearms. The outline of his broad chest was visible to anyone who glanced his way, and I briefly wondered what it would be like to be caught up in his body, wrapped up in his arms. Marinating in the sight of his form, my ability to think clearly was lost. When my sight reached his face, I met the most haunting, green eyes I'd ever seen; the sage color screamed out in total contrast to his golden skin. But it was his aura that engulfed the room-intoxicating, suffocating.

When I neglected to speak, his throat rumbled, and the corner of his mouth turned up slightly in an arrogant grin that acknowledged he knew precisely what my thoughts were and what I'd had on my mind. I struggled to find words before finally spitting out, "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Cameron Pierce." The deep tenor rolled like waves through my body, bringing the heat of desire with them.

I stood to make my way toward him, and he approached me in response-stalking my direction as if he owned the place. My instincts screamed for me to hide under the chair or possibly even jump out of the fifth-floor window before this man made contact. But instead, I rounded the front of the desk and held out my hand to sign for the package.

"I'm Cameron." Intimidation was foreign in my world, but his presence was overpowering, and even worse, he could sense it like a shark in bloody waters. The desire to even out the playing field became a necessity, although I had no idea why I felt the need to put the delivery guy in his place. I straightened my spine as I finished signing my name and looked him dead in the eyes-raging-bitch mode in full force. "In the future, please have the receptionist sign for deliveries. She will get them to the appropriate person."

The son of a bitch erupted-a deep laugh that shook my core all the way through my limbs. "Sure thing, kitten." He shook his head and turned away without so much as a backward glance. I stood stock-still, watching him stroll off, wondering what the hell had just taken place.

Two days later, the same scene.

The same knock echoed off my door, and there he was, package in hand. Without a response, he just waltzed in the moment we made eye contact.

"Cameron Pierce." The way he said my name made me want to strip for him and crash down on my knees, willing and ready to do whatever he asked. I hated to be called Cameron-it was formal and stuffy, and the only people in my life who used it were my co-workers and telemarketers. But from his lips, it was smooth and melodic-a song from the siren's lips that beckoned me, threatening to drown me in the turbulent sea. I fanaticized hearing him utter those three syllables, my name, as he came in my mouth.

"Sign here, please." He once again pushed the tablet in my direction with amused indifference.

"Was I not clear earlier this week? You need to leave packages with the receptionist."

He was accustomed to women falling at his feet; it was evident in his cocky demeanor, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing I craved being one of the flock.

"You were clear, kitten. I just didn't care." He winked, but a smile never touched his lips before he left.

Anger seethed through me, wondering where his gumption came from, and even worse, why Julie kept letting him in. The ring of my phone tore me away from my irritation with the package delivery encounter and our receptionist, but I'd made a mental note to clarify where mail went with the woman up front.

My day had gone from crazy to shit in one phone call. The rest of the afternoon-and what seemed to be half the night-was consumed by meetings with board members, the CFO, and the rest of the Executive Committee, due to a security breach in one of our online divisions. This type of thing was a PR nightmare-not to mention, costly to fix.

With all the security issues, my phone rang off the hook, and emails bombarded me-I couldn't get my head above water, and the workload threatened to sink me. Sixteen-hour workdays for weeks at a time took a toll on my body and mind. I had completely forgotten about the delivery worker and never remembered to talk to Julie about allowing people beyond her desk without appointments-until the familiar tap on my door took me out of my spreadsheet-induced trance. Startled, I glanced up to find those haunting,- green eyes boring holes into me. I was sure he sensed my agitation. Hell, everyone in this office would have retreated for the hills and given me ample girth if they'd felt what lingered in the air in my office at the moment.

"Sir, I'm not sure what I need to say to get through to you, but packages should be left at reception." I hated to be ignored, but more than that, I deplored disobedience, and this guy didn't give a rip-roaring rat's ass that I didn't want him in my office or anywhere near me.

With complete disregard for anything I'd said, he handed me the board. "Just sign for the package, kitten." And with no further ado, retreated from my space.

Fed up, fueled by a lack of sleep and overwhelming desire to put him in his place, I followed him, bound and determined to get both Julie and him to understand. Just steps behind him, I watched when I saw the ruggedly handsome man stop at Julie's desk to talk to her and halted my pursuit just outside his line of vision. Julie offered him a warm smile, but it wasn't a come-hither grin of lust-induced intoxication, it was familiar.

"Make any headway, Dax?" Julie beamed with admiration at the man who drove me to drink.

"Nah, I think I'm just irritating the shit out of her."

"Are you going all Dom on her? You know that doesn't work with dominant women, right?" Her chuckle was playful, but she clearly thought he was off his rocker.

His face softened at her words. "She's not dominant, Julie."

The beautiful redhead with perfectly highlighted, shoulder-length hair burst into gales of laughter that rolled down the hall. The sound was intoxicating, as was she. It was hard not to notice her model-like features with high cheekbones, and large, wide-set eyes. They were such a pale blue sometimes I wondered if there was any color in them at all. Perfectly proportioned and dressed to kill, not only was she stunning and thin, she was smart as a whip. Julie had just graduated from Furman University after interning here for years. At the end of the summer, she would move from her position as the receptionist into a role better suited for her talents in the marketing department.

"I would have to disagree with you there. She's tough as nails. There's never a chink in her armor-she never makes mistakes. She controls this entire company with grace I only wish I had, and she never falters. She's one of those women who can tell you off, and you feel like you won an award when she finishes."

"That doesn't make her dominant-at least, not where it matters. Anyway, I thought you liked her?" His expression showed signs of confusion.

I should have felt bad eavesdropping, but it didn't seem like an invasion of privacy so much as witnessing an endearing exchange I happened to stumble upon.

"Oh, I absolutely adore her. I hope to be just like her in ten years. I'm just saying she's not going to put up with anyone's domineering bullshit; not even yours, pretty boy."

He softly laughed, and the lull in the conversation greeted me with an opportunity to openly address the issue with her and her uniformed friend.

As I approached, he straightened his spine and lost the calm demeanor and casual banter he'd had talking to my receptionist. A twinge of jealousy shot through me-he was carefree and relaxed with Julie, but completely alpha-asshole with me. I swallowed the green envy that threatened to take me over as I stepped to the edge of her desk. He took my arrival as his cue to depart. With the wave of a raised hand, he silently said goodbye to Julie and pushed through the glass doors.

"Julie, could you please accept the packages that come in going forward? There's no reason for them to be brought directly to me."

"Absolutely, Ms. Pierce. It won't happen again."

"Great. Thank you." I turned to walk off, but she stopped me.

"Ms. Pierce?"

"Yes?"

"I know it's none of my business, but Dax Cooper's a great guy."

"I'm sure he is, but he can deliver the packages to you or the mail room." There was the no-nonsense woman she had just told Dax about. And I realized, I now had a name for my harasser. It suited him. I couldn't stop the grin that seized my face wanting to say his name out loud, to feel the way each letter would glide off my tongue and part my lips. Without another word, I returned to my office.

At the height of the lunch hour the following day, the obnoxious knock came again. He loomed in front of me when I looked up from the phone. My face flushed red with heat and exasperation. Julie's ass was on the line this time. I held up a finger to indicate he should hold, which he mistook for an invitation to sit down in one of the chairs opposite me. He watched intently as I handled financial issues with our CFO, listening like he cared and understood what I was discussing. His green eyes softened a bit, and the yellow in them warmed to a golden, honeysuckle hue while he soaked me in, but I wasn't deterred by the panty-dropping stare I received.

When I finished the call, I glared at him in an attempt to bait him to utter the first words. We sat silently for several minutes. I could play this game all day long; I didn't get where I was at thirty-five by being impatient. I waited for opportunities to present themselves, and then I pounced. And I could wait hours if need be, but this asshat was going to understand that regardless of how he wrinkled my panties, his intrusions on my day had to stop. The chair creaked as I leaned back, crossed my legs, and rested my hands on my lap. There was no need to strike a defensive posture and give him the delusion he had the upper hand. He was on the clock, and at some point, he would have to leave to make another stop or return his truck or answer to a supervisor-he couldn't sit here idly all day. Nearly fifteen minutes later, with no sound uttered from either of us, he finally broke.

I started a tally in my head: Cam one, Dax zero.

"Cameron." Firm and commanding. "We have dinner reservations tonight at seven at Sassafras. Would you like to meet me, or would you prefer I pick you up?"

Although his confidence left me slightly aroused, his assumption that I was available to him on a whim was appalling. As much as I would have loved to spend the evening learning the ins and outs of his body, I had zero interest in a get-to-know-you meal. I didn't have time for men as fixtures in my life.

"As thrilled as I am to be told we have a date rather than being asked, I will politely decline."

"No, you won't. I'm not asking if you will go. I'm asking if you want to meet me there, or if you want me to pick you up. Those are your only options, kitten." His stoic face showed no sign of emotion.

"You're serious? Does this work with all the ladies? You just stroll into their office repeatedly, unannounced, after being told not to do so, and they just fall at your feet?"

"I wouldn't know-I've never had to make multiple attempts before." Holy shit, he was dead serious. This guy was blatantly telling me he didn't have to encourage women-they just fell for him.

"As enlightening as your past pursuits are, I'm not interested."

"I'm not going to beg. We will have dinner tonight. Since you aren't inclined to answer the question, I will tell you to meet me there. I expect you to be on time." With that, he got up and left me gawking at the vacant spot he'd occupied just moments before.

My patience was gone, I picked up my phone and called Julie.

"Yes, ma'am?" she answered in the same professional voice I'd heard for years.

"Julie, how did that man get back to my office?" I fumed, on the verge of losing my self-control, and that had never happened in the fifteen years I'd worked here. Not one time.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Pierce. He wasn't delivering a package. If he had been, I would have accepted it." Her voice trembled.

"Julie, come to my office, please." I hung up the phone, silently wishing I had gotten a replacement for my admin while she was out on maternity leave. Kathryn was a bear as a gatekeeper. No one got through her by phone or in person-she would have had Dax by his balls against the wall until security removed him from the building, and he would have only made one visit.

Julie came in with her gaze cast to the floor thinking I was about to reprimand or fire her. I sighed and dropped my head between my hands on my desk. The second time I pounded my forehead against the wooden top, she finally spoke.

"Ms. Pierce?" she questioned meekly.

"Julie, first of all, straighten up and stop staring at the floor. Even if you were in trouble, which you're not, never let your fear or trepidation show outwardly. You'll be amazed at what you can get away with if people see confidence instead of insecurity."

Confusion marred her face momentarily before my words registered, and her body language instantly changed. This girl had the makings of a leader; she just needed someone to mold her, groom her, and show her how to bring out what was already inside.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Pierce. I shouldn't have let Dax-"

"Second lesson, never apologize in the business world until someone has told you that you've made a mistake, and then be damned sure it isn't a personal apology. You are not here to make people like you; you are here to do a job. You can have both after you've earned the respect of your co-workers. Finally, stop calling me Ms. Pierce. Cameron or Cam will suffice. Now, have a seat."

She complied, her posture erect, confident. Smart girl.

"I'm going to be blunt because I'm too tired to pussyfoot around this situation. Who is Dax Cooper?"

"Well, I've known him since I was a little girl. He's always looked out for me. He works for the package service that delivers here. He's thirty-six." She fired off details like they were items on a grocery list.

"I'm sorry, let me rephrase. Who is Dax Cooper to you?" My patience waned. It was late in the afternoon, and this beast of a man expected me at a restaurant downtown in just a couple of hours.

Her eyes dropped again when she hesitated, just before she took a deep breath. Her crystalline-blue eyes were pooled with tears when she finally dared to meet my gaze. The anguish and turmoil seemed to have a voice, but it was silent in the room until she spoke.

"Dax and my oldest brother-Jeremy-were best friends. His family has lived across the street from mine since before there were any kids in the picture. Our parents seemed to have offspring within months of each other, all four years apart, so by the time I was born, Jeremy and Dax were twelve. Anyway, Jeremy was extremely protective of me-probably because I'm the only girl in the bunch and the youngest. And Dax was always nice but never paid me much attention. He has three brothers of his own. I was the lone girl in a pool of seven boys. Our families were so tightly knit, I didn't know the difference between blood brothers and the neighbors for years."

She fidgeted with an imaginary piece of lint in her lap. Her eyes repeatedly dropped, either uncomfortable with what she was about to share with me or overcome, I couldn't discern which.

"When I was fifteen, they were twenty-seven. I went to a college party I wasn't supposed to be at; I got drunk and called Jeremy. I had hoped he could get me into my house without my parents' knowledge. When I called him, it was late, but he and Dax said they'd pick me up. They showed up about fifteen minutes later. Both gave me the riot act about how immature I was to go to a frat party and how easily someone could have taken advantage of me. I rolled my eyes and blew them off, ignoring everything they'd said. Jeremy took his attention off the road just long enough to look at me in the back seat, as if he needed to visually see I was paying attention. When he did, he ran a red light, and a truck hit the driver's side of our car. He died at the scene."

Memories bombarded me of a night I'd shut out years ago. I relived them in the time it took Julie to compose herself enough to continue. The lump in my throat was large and hard to swallow.

"I was in bad shape. I had been sitting behind Jeremy when we were hit. Both of my legs were broken along with my left arm...in multiple places, and I had a pretty nasty head wound. The pressure on my brain put me in a coma for several weeks. But Dax never left my side."

I couldn't help but wonder how a kid that age could survive the heartbreak of thinking her childish behavior had stolen the life of her brother. The way she held her head, the soft-spoken words-all demonstrated the ache that still dwelled inside of her.

"My parents later told me he was vigilant-he showered there, people brought him clothes, but he never left. He lost his job because he refused to leave my side-not that he needed it. When I finally regained consciousness, he assumed Jeremy's role, and he's been my keeper since. He's delivered here for as long as I've worked here. When I'm in school, he takes the packages to the mailroom, but when I'm working, he comes up to bring anything for our floor just to check in on me."

As Julie recited her story, I wanted so badly to tell her I understood every emotion and all the sorrow. Of course, I didn't. Doing so would mean allowing myself to relive my own personal grief, and I already struggled to keep it tucked into the recesses of my mind. She seemed to have finished, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything. I just stared at her, dumbfounded that the same Dax who ruminated in my office and ordered me to dinner tonight was the same man Julie described-the man who had been her protector for the last nine years.

"Cameron, he's been asking about you since I was here last summer. I promise he has a heart of gold."

"Sounds like it." I had nothing left to say, and Julie took my silence as dismissal, rising from the chair and returning to her desk.

Bewildered, I wondered what to do with the information Julie had just shared with me. I didn't know that man from Adam. I'd been adamant I wouldn't meet him tonight, but now, I thought maybe I should give him a chance. Ugh, all I wanted to do was go home and climb into bed. The fact was, while he was intriguing, we were too different-that much was obvious just looking at him. I didn't have time for a relationship and had never been good at meaningless sex.

The clock glowed five minutes to seven. I could still make it if I ran, but I'd resigned myself to a night at home-saving us both from the pointless charade. Guilt weighed me down as I packed my things and made my way to my car. When I pulled out of the garage, I wished I had asked Julie for his phone number so I could at least tell him I wasn't going to join him. Instead, I justified my no-show by convincing myself I had never agreed to go in the first place.