Your heart shall be his, then will come the sting. You will suffer . . . and then you shall burn. The words chill me to the bone. That's my fate. At least, that's what the fortune teller says. Destiny, horoscopes... who believes in that? I sure don't. I make my own future, thank you very much. But when I meet Scott Danger, the words come back to haunt me. His name even comes with a warning label. Handsome, rich, and sexier than any man should be, he's pursuing me hard and fast. Little ol' me, a bartender with a penchant for makeup and old country music. He's dominant and seductive, a predator caged in gilded threads, and I want to run just so he'll chase me . . . catch me . . . take me. Shit. I'm in so much trouble, but I think I like it. Still, those eerie words... do I tempt fate?