They're the black sheep--the bad boys every good girl wants to have hold her, touch her, take her, love her. But being bad never felt so good. . . "I have some spare beer, if you're interested. . ." I'd know that voice anywhere, and every time I hear it, it makes me sweat. Not that well-bred heiresses are supposed to sweat, but if you saw Donovan MacLeod, trust me, you'd need a change of clothes, too. It's been eighteen years, but he's got the same cocky swagger, silver-gray eyes, shaggy hair, and that sexy smile that promises a whole lot of trouble. Not that I'll ever find out because he loathes me--thinks I'm some spoiled princess. So, there's something I've just got to ask. . . "Why are you here, Donovan?" The lady asked a question, she deserves an answer. Well, Kate Sutherland, how about, I've fantasized about you for eighteen years? Or, I wanted to remember how it feels to need a cold shower every time you flick that perfect blond hair out of your blue eyes? Or, Why don't you come over here and let me show you, baby? Yeah, good answers, but I'll stick with the first one--I came back to help, because I think you're in for some trouble. My bad-boy gut says you're gonna need me--in more ways than one. . .