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main menu, or guide. I chose guide and channel surfed. When was the last time I’d whiled away a half hour watching TV? Besides, I was uneasy wandering around his house while he was nowhere to be seen. So I stayed put, pausing on one channel or another, here and there. Not necessarily because something caught my interest, but because my thoughts were once more rampant with where to begin my search for Ivy.
    Should I bother my stepfather while he was out of town on business? Gage might be able to point me in the right direction or make an introductory phone call for me.
    Another flip of the channel had me catching my breath again. I’d landed on the Playboy channel or some similar station. The passionate couple onscreen were getting sexy beneath an outdoor shower. Instead of navigating to another network, I glanced back to the open door at the foot of the staircase and darted up the levels to close it. Interestingly enough, it had a lock, and I twisted it before sitting back down and propping my feet up.
    My fascination with porn was something I had fought in my teen years. But as I grew older, the guilt gradually faded. It wasn’t as if I was into the hard stuff. I simply liked to watch sex. It cleansed my mind of my problems.
    Also, it did what it was supposed to do—stirred my libido. And this aided me in my own stress relief. Sex had never been what it was hyped up to be. Although Derrick got me close, no one had ever really rung my bell. Watching sexy films or looking at pictures allowed me to take care of myself—no men needed.
    Not that I was comfortable enough to do that here even with the door locked. Besides, seeing so much skin—and body parts—on a large screen was weird. After a quarter of an hour I turned the power off and headed back upstairs to see if Gage had appeared.
    The first floor was quiet. There were no sounds or sign of the housekeeper even. Trekking up the stairs, I passed my bedroom. Pausing before the door at the end of the hall where I’d last seen Gage, I knocked. When there was no answer, I twisted the latch.
    Despite the time of day, the room was pitch dark except for the illumination cast from the muted television. Wearing only black Diesel briefs, Gage was sprawled atop the sheets in a huge bed with his dog lying near his feet. The canine’s ears perked as he eyed me, but the animal made no sound or move to leave his sleeping master.
    There was no explanation for the phenomenon happening next. I blamed it on the video clip of him still swirling in my head along with the sexy flick just minutes ago. I stood, helplessly frozen, admiring his shadowy body. Even worse, despite him being a narcissistic rock star and my almost brother, I felt a tug of attraction.
    He stirred for a split second and woke with a start. “Scarlette! What the hell?” In a reflexive motion, he grasped the edge of the cover sheet, pulling it up to his waist.
    I couldn’t see his face, but his aggravated tone had my feet moving back a step. “Yeah, sorry. I just needed to ask you some stuff.”
    “What time is it?”
    “Almost two.”
    A cross sound between a growl and a groan hissed through his lips, and he sat up, scrubbing at his eyes.
    “Um, do you have anything for a headache?” Unconsciously, I pulled at my ponytail, loosening it.
    “Like what? Like Tylenol?” He seemed to wait for a cue, and I wondered what else he had for a headache. Thanks to the media, it was no secret my stepbrother battled chemical addiction and had recently been in rehab after being so strung out he almost nodded off during a talk show.
    Hoping I’d misread that curious gleam in his eyes, I nodded. “Or aspirin. I can get it if you just say where.”
    “Bathroom.” He tipped his head toward a closed doorway to the left of his bed. “The top drawer on the end. And could you grab my phone? It’s in the dock right there by the shower.”
    Natural light spilled through the bathroom windows. Dodging a towel on the floor, I