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Twice the Temptation
Rochelle Alers
Denise Eaton is proud of the day-care business she built from scratch.But now the scion of this Philadelphia family dynasty could lose everything. The man who holds the key to her future? None other than Rhett Ferrell, the man she passionately loved in college. . . and who broke her heart. Rhett has waited six years to take his sweet revenge.Now the legendary corporate raider is about to have Denise right where he wants her—at his mercy and in his bed. He's never forgiven her for walking out and taking up with his most hated enemy. But he's also never forgotten the desire that still burns so hotly, so irresistibly between them.That's when Rhett plots one final conquest: to take over Denise's heart. And he's a man who plays to win. . . .



Twice the Temptation
Rochelle Alers



www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Books by Rochelle Alers
Kimani Romance

Bittersweet Love
Sweet Deception
Sweet Dreams
Twice the Temptation
ROCHELLE ALERS
has been hailed by readers and booksellers alike as one of today’s most prolific and popular African-American authors of romance and women’s fiction.

With more than fifty titles and nearly two million copies of her novels in print, Ms. Alers is a regular on the Waldenbooks, Borders and Essence bestseller lists, is regularly chosen by Black Expressions Book Club and has been the recipient of numerous awards, including a Gold Pen Award, an Emma Award, a Vivian Stephens Award for Excellence in Romance Writing, an RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award and a Zora Neale Hurston Literary Award.
She is a member of the Iota Theta Zeta chapter of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority, Inc., and her interests include gourmet cooking and traveling. She has traveled to Europe and countries in North, South and Central America. Her future travel plans include visits to Hong Kong and New Zealand. Ms. Alers is also accomplished in knitting, crocheting and needlepoint. She is currently taking instruction in the art of hand quilting.

Oliver, a toy Yorkshire terrier, has become the newest addition to her family. When he’s not barking at passing school buses, the tiny dog can be found sleeping on her lap while she spends hours in front of the computer.

A full-time writer, Ms. Alers lives in a charming hamlet on Long Island.

Dear Reader,
They’re back…

It’s time for another Eaton family reunion, and this time it’s Denise Eaton who takes center stage.

Denise, the executive director of a D.C.-based childcare center, is offered a second chance at love with the man to whom she’d once pledged her future.

However, she is unaware of Rhett Fennell’s plan to seduce her and then walk out on her as she had done to him years ago. Even the best plans can backfire, and Rhett is forced to abandon his sweet revenge once he realizes he has never stopped loving Denise. Twice the Temptation is twice the love and twice the passion as another Eaton finds a love that promises forever.
Look for sexy ex-military officer Xavier Eaton in 2011, as he romances a beautiful chocolatier in the first of a two-book wedding series set in South Carolina’s low country.

In the second book Dr. Mia Eaton will discover that she doesn’t have to sacrifice her medical career for a chance at love when she encounters a hunky lawman in West Virginia’s mining region.

Don’t forget to check out my new Web site at www.rochellealers.org.

Yours in romance,

Rochelle Alers

Chapter One
“Denise? Oh, I didn’t realize you were on the phone.”
Denise Eaton’s head popped up and she waved away the woman who’d come into her office. She couldn’t talk to the social worker, because if she didn’t resolve what had become a dilemma there would be nothing to discuss.
“Are you certain I have no recourse, Myles?” she asked, continuing with her telephone conversation.
After she’d opened the certified letter, reading it not once but twice, she’d called her cousin, Myles Eaton, who taught constitutional law at Duquesne University School of Law, before she’d faxed the letter.
“I’m sorry, Denise. I wish I could give you more encouraging news, but the new owner can legally raise the rent. You approved the clause in your original lease that allows him to do it.”
“He had to have known he was going to sell the building when I signed the lease. What I can’t understand is why the new owner wants to double the rent. He has to be aware of prevailing rents for this neighborhood.”
Denise had chosen the less-than-desirable D.C. neighborhood because the working parents who lived there needed the services she offered, and the rent for the building where she’d set up her business was one she could afford.
“Maybe he knows something you don’t, Necie.”
“Like what, Myles?”
“Perhaps the area is targeted for gentrification and he wants you to vacate so he can use the property for something other than a child care center. Do you know anyone in D.C. who can advocate on your behalf?”
She rubbed her forehead with her fingers as she felt the beginnings of a tension headache. “Like who?”
“Like someone with political connections.”
Denise did know someone, but there was no way she wanted to be beholden to Trey Chambers. “No,” she lied.
“If you were my client, I’d recommend you contact the owner and see if you can negotiate a deal that would be reasonable for both parties.”
“What’s reasonable is I can’t afford even a hundreddollar increase in rent. I’m barely breaking even.”
“Call the new owner of the property, Denise, and if you’re unable to talk to him, then call me back. I’ll look up some of my old law school buddies who practice in the District and see if they’ll represent you.”
“How am I going to pay them, Myles?” She only had three months of budgeted funds for New Visions Childcare and less than a thousand dollars available for legal expenses.
“Don’t worry about paying them. I’ll cover the fees.”
Denise panicked. There was no way she was going to let her cousin subsidize her business. She hadn’t accepted any monetary support from her father and mother, deciding instead to take out a business loan to set up the progressive child care center in a D.C. neighborhood where poor and working-classes families desperately needed the services.
Her delicate jaw hardened when she clenched her teeth. “No, you won’t.”
“Stop being so muleheaded, Necie.”
“Thank you, cuz. I’ll call and let you know how everything turns out.”
“Necie, don’t…”
Denise cut off whatever Myles was going to say when she hung up. She wasn’t completely destitute. Instead of subletting or renting the one-bedroom Philadelphia co-op her cousin had given her when she moved out after marrying celebrated playwright Preston Tucker, Denise had decided to sell it. After several deals had fallen through, she was finally set to close on the property. But that was three weeks away.
She had to decide whether she wanted to invest the money in the business. The profit she stood to make was enough to cover salaries, utilities, rent and other essentials for operating the child care center. The first year, New Visions had made a modest profit, but this year it was projected to increase by ten percent.
Drumming her fingers on the top of the desk, Denise stared at the framed prints of children from around the world in their native dress. She’d fulfilled a childhood dream of becoming a teacher, but hadn’t stopped there. Setting up the child care center was the second stage of her plan and the third and final component was to eventually establish a school for at-risk, underprivileged boys.
However, everything she’d sacrificed and worked so hard for was about to implode. The new owner of the property had given her ninety days to accept the terms of the rental renewal agreement or vacate the property. And there was no way she could find another building, renovate it and secure the necessary permits to run a similar facility in three months.
She stared at the letter for a full minute. Reaching for the telephone, she picked up the receiver and dialed the number on the company’s masthead. “Capital Management. How may I direct your call?” asked the woman who’d answered the telephone.
Denise sat up straighter. “May I please speak to Ms. Henderson.”
“Who’s calling?”
“Denise Eaton, executive director of New Visions Childcare. I received a certified letter this morning signed by Ms. Henderson. I’m calling to set up an appointment to meet with her to discuss the terms of the renewal lease agreement.”
“Please hold on, Ms. Eaton. I’ll see if Ms. Henderson is available.”
Denise continued drumming her fingers, her heart beating rapidly against her ribs, while mumbling a silent prayer that she would be able to appeal to Camilla Henderson’s maternal instincts—that was if the woman had any.
“Camilla Henderson,” she said in a strong, nononsense, businesslike tone. “How may I help you, Ms. Eaton?”
“I’d like to set up an appointment to meet with you to discuss—”
“The letter you received outlining the terms of the rent increase,” she said, interrupting Denise.
“How did you know?”
“I’m not clairvoyant, Ms. Eaton.” There was a hint of laughter in her voice. “It’s just that I’ve been fielding calls about rent increases all morning.” The sound of turning pages came through the earpiece. “Are you available this coming Friday?”
Denise checked her planner. She had a staff meeting at ten. “What time on Friday?”
“I have an opening for Friday morning and another one for late afternoon.”
“I’d prefer late afternoon.”
“My assistant will call you Friday morning to set up a time and place where we’ll meet.”
“We won’t meet at your office?” Denise asked.
“No, Ms. Eaton. We’re currently renovating our offices and conference room.”
“Okay. I’ll wait for the call. And, thank you, Ms. Henderson.”
“I’ll see you Friday, Ms. Eaton.”
Denise hung up. Camilla Henderson seemed friendly enough on the phone, so now it was up to her to try to convince the woman to lower the rent for the sake of the children, their parents and the employees of the center.

Camilla Henderson exhaled a breath when she dialed Garrett Fennell’s extension. It took less than a minute for his executive assistant to transfer her to the CEO of Capital Management Properties.
“Rhett, Ms. Eaton called. I told her I’m willing to meet with her Friday afternoon.”
“Call her back and tell her you’re available tonight.”
“What if she’s not available?”
“If I know Denise Amaris Eaton as well as I believe I do, she will make herself available. Tell her to meet you in the lobby of my hotel at seven. That should give her enough time to close the center and make it to the Hay-Adams in time for dinner.”
Denise parked her car six blocks from the Hay-Adams. She’d been surprised when Camilla Henderson’s assistant called soon after they’d hung up to schedule a dinner meeting at the hotel across the street from the White House for seven that evening. Her plan to wash several loads of laundry was scrapped when she’d left the center at four—two hours earlier than her normal quitting time. She’d gone home to shower and change into something more appropriate for a dinner meeting at the landmark hotel that was a popular choice for policy-making meetings among Washingtonian politicos.
She didn’t have time to wash and blow out her hair, so Denise brushed it off her face, pinning it into a loose chignon on the nape of her neck. It had taken three changes before she’d decided on a sleeveless ice-blue linen dress with a squared neckline edged in black. The narrow black belt around her waist matched four-inch pumps and the bolero jacket. She wore pearl studs in her pierced ears, a matching strand around her neck and a gold watch that had been her father’s gift to her when she’d earned a graduate degree in educational administration. The outfit was perfect for the warm spring weather.
It felt good wearing the heels, only because her work attire was relegated to slacks, blouses and sensible walking shoes. It was only on rare occasions that she wore a suit or dress to work. The exception was when she had a meeting outside the center. Although she didn’t interact as closely with the children as she had when she was a classroom teacher, coming into contact with sticky fingers or when she picked up a toddler who’d had an accident, Denise had learned to dress for practicality.
“Good evening, miss.”
Smiling, she nodded to the well-dressed young man. “Good evening.” Although she hadn’t turned around, Denise could feel the heat of his gaze on her back when he passed on her right.
“You look very nice,” he said.
“Thank you.”
Her smile was still in place when she crossed H Street, heading for Sixteenth. His unexpected compliment was an ego-booster. Not only did she need to pump up her ego, but she also needed an additional shot of confidence, and Denise wasn’t about to rule out a minor miracle.
She had never been one who’d found herself at a loss for words. In fact her mother had always said she should’ve been the model for Chatty Cathy. Paulette Eaton claimed her daughter spoke in full sentences before she’d celebrated her second birthday. Her father, Boaz Eaton, said children who were talkative were usually very intelligent. Coming from Boaz, who’d stressed education above all else, it had become the ultimate compliment.
Denise detected a smell in the air that she’d come to associate with Virginia and the Capitol district. Maybe it was chicory or another plant indigenous to the region. Once she’d contemplated moving from Philadelphia to D.C., she’d met with a real estate agent several times a month to look at vacant properties for her business, and when she’d found the one-story brick building she’d been relieved it hadn’t required major renovations. Finding an apartment proved a lot easier for her. She was finally settling into a one-bedroom apartment at the Winston House. It had taken her a year to finalize her move from the City of Brotherly Love to the nation’s capital.
The walk was what Denise needed to compose herself when she nodded to the doorman, who’d opened the door to the entrance to the Hay-Adams. “Thank you.”
Touching the shiny brim of the hat, the man bowed as if she were royalty. “You’re welcome, miss.”
She entered the opulent lobby of the building that had been originally designed in the 1920s as a residential hotel. However, Denise felt as if she’d walked into a private mansion on Lafayette Square that featured suites with views of Lafayette Park and the White House.
Her eyes swept around the lobby, searching for a woman wearing a tan pantsuit with a white blouse. She checked her watch. It was six forty-five, fifteen minutes earlier than their appointed time. Walking over to a plush armchair, she sat down and waited for Camilla Henderson.

Rhett Fennell’s hands tightened on the arms of the chair as he forced himself not to move. He’d come down to the lobby at 6:30 p.m. to wait for a glimpse of the woman with whom he’d waited six years to exact his revenge. The deep-seated anger that had gnawed at him day in and day out burned as hotly as it had the day Denise Eaton walked out of his life and into the arms of a man who’d gone from friend to enemy.
His mother had pleaded with him to let it go—forget about the two people he’d trusted—but he couldn’t. It was the thirst for revenge that fueled the fire to propel him to get up every day to grow the business he would use to inflict Denise Eaton with the emotional pain he’d carried for longer than he wanted to remember, and bring Trey Chambers to his knees.
At exactly seven o’clock, he stood and counted the steps it would take to bring him face-to-face with her. A wry smile tilted the corners of his mouth. It was half a dozen—the same number of years since the fateful day that would forever be branded into his memory.
“Good evening, Ms. Eaton.”
Denise froze, her breath catching in her throat and making it impossible for her to move. She heard the roaring in her head, fearful that she was going to faint when she registered the voice of the man she’d feared running into since moving to D.C. Rhett Fennell was the only man she knew who could shout without raising his voice.
Her lips parted and she expelled a lungful of air and the roaring stopped. Her head came up as if pulled by an invisible string. Standing less than a foot away was Rhett Fennell, the man with whom she’d fallen in love, given her heart, virginity and a promise to share her life and future with him.
He’d matured. His face was leaner, his black hair close-cropped and there was an intensity in the deep-set dark eyes that didn’t look at her but through her. Rising on shaking knees, Denise extended her hand.
“It’s good seeing you again, Rhett.”
Rhett reached for the proffered hand, holding it firmly within his large grasp before releasing it. His impassive expression did not change as he stared at the heart-shaped face with the wide-set dark brown eyes, delicate nose and temptingly curved mouth that conjured up memories of what he’d been reduced to after they’d finished making love. It was her mouth and what came out of it that had enthralled him before he’d turned to see her face for the first time.
Denise had been blessed with the voice of a temptress. It was low, sultry and definitely had a triple-X rating. She was the only woman he’d known or met who’d been able to seduce him with hello. However, time had been more than kind to her. Although appearing slimmer than she had when they were in college together, nonetheless she was strikingly beautiful.
He forced a smile that stopped before it reached his eyes. “And, it’s very nice seeing you again. How long has it been?”
Denise’s eyes narrowed. She wanted to tell Garrett Fennell there was no reason to play mind games with her. He was brilliant. Everything he saw, heard or read he remembered, and it was his photographic memory that made him an outstanding student and astute businessman.
And he looked every inch the successful businessman in a tailored charcoal-gray suit, pale blue shirt, purple silk tie and black wingtips. Garrett Mason Fennell was the epitome of sartorial splendor.
She’d admitted to her cousin, Chandra Eaton-Tucker, that if she did run into Rhett again she would lose it. Well, she hadn’t—even though she was becoming more uncomfortable with each passing second. She’d also confessed to Chandra that she hadn’t gotten over her former lover and if she were completely honest with herself she would have to admit she would never get over him because she hadn’t wanted to.
“Six years, Rhett.”
Rhett angled his head. “Has it really been that long?”
“Yes, it has,” Denise retorted sharply. Either he was feigning ignorance, or what they’d shared was just a blip in his memory. She glanced at her watch again. “I’d like to stay and reminisce with you, but I’m supposed to meet someone for dinner.”
Rhett glanced around the lobby. “Is he here yet?”
“It’s not a he, but a she.”
“I hope you’re not waiting for Camilla Henderson.”
Denise stared at Rhett as if he’d suddenly grown a third eye. “You know Camilla Henderson?”
Rhett felt like a cat playing with a mouse he’d trapped and stunned, but was reluctant to kill. It was time he put an end to the charade and reveal his intent.
“She works for me. Unfortunately, she had an unforeseen situation where she couldn’t be here, so you’re going to have to deal with me tonight.”
“You’re involved with Capital Management Properties?”
“I’ve just taken over as CEO of CMP.”
“You…you’re responsible for the one hundred percent increase in rent on my child care center?”
Rhett’s eyebrows lifted a fraction. “Aren’t you being premature?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Her voice had lowered as her temper escalated.
“Didn’t you agree to meet with my chief financial officer to negotiate the terms of your center’s lease renewal?”
“Yes, but—”
“Let’s talk about it, Denise,” Rhett said, interrupting her. He cupped her elbow, steering her across the lobby. “I’ve reserved a table in The Lafayette.”
Denise attempted to extricate her arm, but encountered resistance. She could not escape the fingers tightening like manacles. “You deceived me!”
Rhett stopped abruptly, as she plowed into his side. He turned toward her. “Spoken like someone who’s quite familiar with the word.”
“I didn’t deceive you, Rhett.”
“Save your breath, Denise. You’re going to need it after you hear my business proposition.”
“What kind of proposition?” Denise asked, unable to ignore the shudder swirling throughout her body. Rhett was making a business proposition when they had nothing in common other than he was now her landlord.
“We’ll discuss it over dinner.”
Denise went completely still, then managed to relax when Rhett rested his hand at the small of her back. It was as if nothing had changed, as if it’d been six hours instead of six years that had separated them.

Chapter Two
However, if things between them hadn’t changed she now would’ve been Denise Fennell and probably would’ve had at least one, if not, two children. Rhett, who was an only child, always talked about having a big family. When she’d asked him what he felt constituted a big family his reply had been a minimum of four children. They’d argued good-naturedly, she refusing to agree to push out four babies, while Rhett reminded her of how much fun it would be making babies.
Denise knew conjuring up images of the passionate encounters she’d had with Rhett would be detrimental to her emotional well-being. It had taken a long time to recover from his deceit and now that her life was on track she wanted nothing to derail it again.
“Your table is ready, Mr. Fennell.”
Rhett’s arm went around her waist, holding her close to his length. Denise was relieved she’d chosen to wear the stilettos. She was five-four in bare feet, and the additional four inches put her at eye level with Rhett’s broad shoulder.
“How often do you eat here?” she asked him after he’d seated her.
“Enough,” Rhett replied cryptically.
Denise stared across the small space of the table for two, her eyes taking in everything that made Rhett the confident man she’d loved selfishly. “How often is enough?” He’d greeted the maître d’ and several of the waitstaff by name.
Rhett stared at Denise with lowered lids. He didn’t want to believe she was more stunning than he’d remembered. The private investigator on his payroll had more than earned his salary. He made a mental note to give the man a generous year-end bonus. The former police officer had information on the teacher she probably hadn’t remembered, or had chosen not to remember.
“I stay at the hotel whenever I have business in D.C.”
A slight frown furrowed Denise’s smooth forehead. Whenever she saw Garrett Fennell’s name linked with a D.C.-based company in the business section of The Washington Post, she was under the impression that he still lived in his hometown.
“Where’s home now?” she asked, staring at his firm mouth.
A hint of a smile found its way to Rhett’s eyes. “I have a little place off the Chesapeake.”
Resting her elbow on the table, Denise cupped her chin on the heel of her hand. “So you got your wish,” she said in a quiet voice. “You always said you wanted to live on the water.”
Rhett’s expression changed, becoming somber. “Unfortunately, not all of my wishes were granted.”
“What more could you have wanted, Rhett? You’ve become a successful entrepreneur, you have the home you wanted and—”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he said, cutting her off.
Denise’s arm came down and she sat back, her eyes never leaving the pair pinning her to the chair. He’d done it again. He had yelled at her without raising his voice. “If you talk to me like that again, I’m going to get up and walk out of here.”
“You do that and you’ll throw away everything you’ve worked so hard for. And knowing you like I believe I do, you won’t do that just because someone said something you don’t like.”
“You’re not someone, Rhett,” she countered angrily. “Remember, we’re not strangers.”
“That’s something I’ll never forget, because you made certain of that.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So, you’re still blaming me for something you initiated and let get out of control.” Rhett’s reply was preempted when the waiter brought menus to the table.
“Would you like to order cocktails before I take your order, Mr. Fennell?”
“We’ll have a bottle of champagne.”
“Your usual, sir?”
“Yes, please.”
Denise did not want to believe Rhett had ordered champagne without asking her beverage choice. “I don’t want anything to drink because I’m driving,” she said softly after the waiter had walked away.
Rhett smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll make certain you get home safely.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I’ll drive you home and then take a taxi back here.”
“That’s not necessary.” It was enough that Rhett knew where she worked, and Denise didn’t want him to know where she lived.
Picking up the menu, Rhett studied the entrées as Denise seethed inwardly. His success had made him not only arrogant but also rude. When they’d dated she rarely drank. Being underage was a factor and even when she’d reached the legal drinking age she’d discovered one drink usually left her feeling giddy.
“You’ve changed, Rhett.”
“And you haven’t?” he said, never taking his eyes off the menu.
“Yes, I have. I’m no longer the wide-eyed young girl who got to sleep with the smartest guy on campus.”
Rhett’s head came up as he slumped back in his chair. “You think what we’d had was all about sex, Denise?”
“What else was it, Rhett?” she asked, answering his question with her own. “Even you admitted you’d never connected with a woman the way you had with me.”
Pressing his palms together, he brought his fingertips to his mouth. He’d fallen in love with Denise Eaton because of her outspokenness, passion and her ambition. Of all the women he’d met at Johns Hopkins, she’d been the most focused and driven. Even at eighteen she knew who she was and what she’d wanted for her future.
She was a Philadelphia Eaton, while he was the only child of a single mother who’d looked young enough to pass for his sister. Denise had grown up in a sprawling house on several acres with her attorney father and schoolteacher mother and an older brother. Her brother had attended the prestigious Citadel in Charleston, South Carolina, with the intention of becoming a professional soldier.
Meanwhile, he hadn’t known his father, and whenever he’d asked Geraldine Fennell about him, she would say she didn’t know. His mother didn’t know the man who’d fathered him, and every time he walked the streets in his neighborhood he’d randomly searched the faces of men in an attempt to find one who he thought he looked like.
Gerri, as she was affectionately called by the few friends she’d held on to from her childhood, worked two jobs to send him to a boarding school twelve miles from their blighted neighborhood so he would get a quality education. Her sacrifice had paid off, because he’d been awarded full academic scholarships to Stanford, Howard University, Harvard and Johns Hopkins. Rhett had decided on the latter, because the scholarship included not only tuition but also books, room and board. The university was also close enough to D.C. so he could easily return home during school breaks.
The adage that there is a thin line between love and hate was evident after Denise dashed all of the plans they’d made for their future to crawl into bed with Trey Chambers. He’d wanted to hate her, but couldn’t. He’d wanted to hurt her, but hadn’t. Now the only thing he wanted was revenge—the sweetest revenge that he would exact in his own time, using his own methods.
“That was then.”
“And this is now,” she said softly.
“Yes, it is,” Rhett said slowly as if measuring his words. “Speaking of now—how is your family?”
Denise, relieved to change the focus of the conversation from her and Rhett, smiled. “Thankfully, everyone’s well.”
“How’s your brother?”
“Xavier has retired from active service. He went to Iraq a couple of years after 9/11 for two tours of duty. He was stateside for a while, and last year he was deployed again, this time to Afghanistan. A month before he was scheduled to return home he took a bullet to the leg that shattered his femur.”
“What is he doing now?”
“He just got a teaching position at a military school in South Carolina, much to the relief of my mother, who went to church every day to light a candle that he wouldn’t come back in a flag-draped casket.”
Rhett had always liked Xavier. The career soldier had become the older brother he’d wished he had. “Are your parents well?”
“Very well,” she said, smiling. “Daddy is now a state supreme court judge. Mom put in for early retirement, and now complains that she’s bored out of her mind. All she does is cook and bake cakes.”
“Your mother missed her calling.”
“And that is?”
“She should’ve become a chef instead of a teacher.” Whenever he’d gone to Philadelphia with Denise, her mother had prepared so much food that she’d invited every family member within a twenty-mile radius. Although he and Denise hadn’t been engaged, the Eatons had unofficially adopted him into their family.
Denise’s smile was dazzling. “I think you just gave me an idea, Rhett. When I speak to my mother I’m going to suggest she take some cooking classes.”
Rhett’s smile matched Denise’s and for a brief moment he forgot why he was sitting across the table from her in a hotel restaurant. “Your mother is an incredible cook, unlike my mother, who still can’t boil water.”
A tender expression softened Denise’s features when she remembered meeting Rhett’s mother for the first time. Her greeting of “you’re the daughter I always wanted” had resonated with her long after she and Rhett had driven back to Baltimore after a holiday weekend.
“How is your mother?”
“Believe it or not, she got married last year.”
“I don’t believe it. Your mother is so beautiful, and what I didn’t understand was that men were practically genuflecting whenever they saw her, yet she wouldn’t give any of them the time of day.”
Rhett chuckled, the warm honeyed sound coming from deep within his chest. “She finally met someone who wasn’t intimidated by her hostile glares and sharp tongue. Russ claims he chased her until she caught him. She used every excuse in the book as to why she wouldn’t make a good wife, including her inability to cook, until he promised to hire a personal chef.”
“Did he?” Denise asked.
“Yes. He made good on his promise and they have a cook who prepares their meals, so the only thing Mom has to do is heat them up in the oven or the microwave.”
Denise wanted to tell Rhett his mother didn’t have to learn to cook because she’d worked at a restaurant and brought food home. She also didn’t tell him that six months ago she’d gone to see Geraldine Fennell, but neighbors told her Gerri had moved and hadn’t left a forwarding address.
“I hope she’s happy.”
“She is,” Rhett confirmed. “Once I convinced her to give up one of her jobs, she got her GED and eventually went online to get a liberal arts degree. She says she doesn’t know what she’s going to do with it, but earning a college degree is something she’d always wanted.”
The sommelier approached the table with two flutes and a bottle of champagne in a crystal ice bucket. He poured a small amount into one flute, handed it to Rhett, and then filled both when he nodded his approval.
Rhett offered Denise the wineglass, their fingers touching. Holding his flute aloft, he gave her a long, penetrating look. “Here’s to a successful business arrangement.”
With wide eyes, Denise stared at him over the rim. “What business arrangement?” The query was barely a whisper.
He took a sip of the sparkling wine. “Drink up, Denise.”
Her fingers tightened on the stem of the glass. “No. I’m not going to toast or drink to something I know nothing about.”
Rhett set his glass down. He knew his dining partner well enough to know she wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want to do. “I want you to stand in as my hostess for the summer.”
A soft gasp escaped Denise when she replayed Rhett’s business proposal in her head. “You need a girlfriend?” There was a thread of incredulity in the question.
“No, Denise, I don’t need a girlfriend. I broke up with my girlfriend a couple of months ago, and I’m not looking for another one. Unfortunately I’ve committed to quite a few social engagements this summer, and I need someone who will stand in as my date and hostess, providing your boyfriend doesn’t object.”
Clasping her hands together, she concealed their trembling under the table. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“That alleviates one obstacle.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Why don’t you contact a dating service, Rhett? I’m certain they can find someone to your liking.”
Leaning forward, Rhett’s face suddenly went grim. “I don’t do dating services.”
Denise refused to relent. “Have you been in a monastery since we broke up?”
“Who I’ve slept with is none of your business,” he retorted.
“I didn’t ask who you were sleeping with, Garrett Mason Fennell. I said—”
“I know what you said. You have a choice, Miss Eaton. Either it’s yes or no.” He knew she was upset because she’d called him by his full name.
“What are my options?”
“If you say no, then you’ll receive a lease renewal agreement doubling your current monthly rent.”
Denise blinked, unable to believe what she’d heard. “That’s blackmail!”
“I call it negotiating, Denise. You want something from me, and I’m offering you a way out of your dilemma. I could’ve said I wanted you to sleep with me.”
“That’s sexual harassment.”
“Call it whatever you want,” Rhett said quietly. “You have exactly one minute to give me an answer, or the deal is off the table.”
“And if I say yes?” Denise felt as if someone had put their fingers around her throat, slowly squeezing the life out of her.
Rhett knew he had Denise on the ropes when he saw her shoulders slump. And, like a shark drawn to the smell of blood, he went in for the kill.
“You give me the next three and a half months of your life and I’ll offer you a two-year lease with a ten percent increase.”
“Make it three years and six percent,” she countered.
“Three years, eight percent, and that’s my final offer.”
Denise felt as if she’d won a small victory. Picking up her flute, she extended it. “Deal,” she crooned, touching glasses. She took a sip of champagne. “Why me, and not some other woman?” she asked, seeing his smug expression.
Rhett lowered his gaze, staring at the back of his left hand. “I don’t have time to tutor someone about social etiquette and protocol.”
“How often will I have to stand in as your hostess?”
“Every weekend.”
“Every weekend?” she repeated. “You’re kidding me, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not kidding you, Denise. We’ll either entertain here in D.C., or on Cape St. Claire.”
The waiter’s sudden appearance to take their order was the only thing that stopped Denise from spewing the acid-laced response poised on the tip of her tongue. She narrowed her eyes, glaring at Rhett when she wanted to wipe the smirk off his face. Crossing her arms over her chest, she counted slowly in an attempt to control her temper.
“It can’t be every weekend,” she said when they were alone again.
Rhett angled his head. “Is your business open on the weekend?”
She rolled her eyes at him. “No.”
“It can’t be because of a man, because you said you didn’t have a boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend or not, I still have other obligations.”
Rhett glanced up, annoyance and frustration welling up within him. If he wasn’t careful, his plan would backfire and that was something he wanted to avoid, given the risks he’d taken to exact revenge from Denise Eaton for turning his world upside down. His most ruthless business foes hadn’t been able to affect him the way she had.
He’d designed his retribution as carefully as he studied a company on the brink of bankruptcy before he stepped in to take it over. Rhett had been hard-pressed not to shout at the top of his lungs when his investigator uncovered that Denise had opened a child care center in D.C., and on property his company had recently purchased from a developer who’d been forced to abandon his plan to revitalize four square blocks of commercial real estate after the housing market bottomed out. He’d paid the developer a little more than half the fair market value for the property, and the developer took the check and thanked him profusely.
His game plan included seducing Denise back into his bed, then walking out on her as she had walked out on him. The only difference was there wouldn’t be a woman waiting for him as there had been for her years ago.
“What type of other social obligations?”
“I have two fundraisers—one in June and the other in August. I’m also involved in planning my cousin Belinda’s baby shower.”
Belinda Eaton-Rice was due at the end of the month and the family had decided that a get-together over the three-day weekend would provide an opportune setting for a baby shower.
“Does she know about the shower?”
Denise smiled for the first time since she’d agreed to go along with Rhett’s unorthodox proposal. “No. My parents are supposedly hosting the get-together, and that will give Griffin time to drive Belinda to Philly while the rest of us decorate their house in Paoli. Once they arrive, Griffin will have to come up with an excuse why they have to return to Paoli.”
Rhett lifted his eyebrows a fraction. “I must say I was quite surprised when I’d heard that Griffin Rice had married Belinda Eaton.”
It was Denise’s turn to raise her eyebrows. “How did you hear about it?”
“Keith Ennis.”
“You know Keith?” Denise asked. The Philadelphia Phillies ballplayer was a sports superstar. As Keith’s agent, Griffin had helped the naturally gifted athlete from a poor Baltimore neighborhood to superstar status with a five-year multimillion-dollar contract, along with high-profile endorsement deals.
“We’d shared a table at a Baltimore fundraiser, and I overheard him tell someone he was going to be a groomsman in his agent’s wedding. When I heard him mention Belinda Eaton I knew then it was your cousin.”
“Griffin and Belinda shocked everyone when they announced they were getting married,” Denise said, smiling. “I’d always thought they couldn’t stand each other.” She sobered. “Griffin losing his brother and Belinda her sister brought them closer together after they became guardians for Donna and Grant’s twin daughters.”
“I’ve always liked your family, Denise.”
She nodded, scrunching up her nose. “I kind of like them, too. In fact, Chandra asked me about you.”
“And what did you tell her?”
“She’d asked if I’d run into you now that I’m living in D.C. and I told her I hadn’t.”
Rhett leaned closer. “That is, until now,” he said softly.
Denise stared at Rhett. There was something in his eyes that communicated he was mocking her. A sixth sense wouldn’t let her feel comfortable about their reunion. It wasn’t coincidental that he’d happened to purchase the building where she’d set up New Visions Childcare. His reputation as a ruthless corporate raider had earned him the reputation as one of thirty under thirty rising stars in Beltway Business Review. At twenty-eight, Garrett Fennell was touted as the Warren Buffett of his generation. She knew there was only one way to find out what he was up to, and that was for her to play the same game.
“Do you have anything planned for the Memorial Day weekend?”
Rhett drained the flute. “I have an invitation to a neighbor’s cookout on Sunday. Why?”
“Belinda’s shower is scheduled for Saturday afternoon, and I’d like you to come with me. After that, I’m all yours for the rest of the weekend.” Denise knew she’d shocked Rhett with her suggestion when he stared at her as if he’d never seen her before.
“You want me to hang out with your family?”
“Of course,” she said flippantly. “I’m certain they’ll welcome you back with open arms.”
A beat passed before Rhett spoke again. “What did you tell your parents about our breakup?”
Denise closed her eyes, recalling the meeting with her parents. She’d managed not to break down when they’d asked when she and Rhett were getting married.
She opened her eyes, her gaze fusing with the man. Despite her silent protest, she still loved and would always love him. He’d deceived her with another woman and she still couldn’t hate him.
“I told them the truth.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I said I’d fallen out of love with you.”
Reaching across the table, Rhett took her hand, increasing the pressure when she tried to escape him. “Do you hate me, Denise?” The second hand dial on his timepiece made a full revolution as they stared at each other.
“No, Rhett, I don’t hate you.”
Exhaling a breath at the same time he let go of Denise’s hand, Rhett stared at a spot over her shoulder. “If that’s the case, then I’ll go with you to Belinda’s baby shower.”

Chapter Three
Denise unlocked the door to her apartment, tossed her keys and handbag on the side table in the entryway and kicked off her shoes. In her stocking-covered feet, she headed for the bedroom.
Rhett hadn’t driven her home, because she’d only drunk half a glass of champagne. However, he’d walked her to her car, waited until she’d maneuvered away from the curb and turned the corner.
She was angry and annoyed. Her anger was directed at Rhett for using what amounted to blackmail to get her to do his bidding. His excuse that he needed her to double as his date and hostess was so transparent she had almost laughed in his face.
She was annoyed at herself for inviting him to her cousin’s baby shower. His presence would literally open a Pandora’s box of questions to which she had few or no answers.
The blinking red light on the telephone console on the bedside table indicated she had a message. Reaching for the cordless receiver, she punched in the numbers to retrieve her voice mail. The voice of Chandra Eaton-Tucker came through the earpiece:
“Denise, this is Chandra. Please call me when you get this message. I don’t care how late it is when you get in. Call me.”
Denise dialed the Philadelphia area code, then Chandra’s number. The phone rang twice before there was a break in the connection. “This is Chandra.”
“Hey. I hope I’m not calling too late.”
Denise walked over to the window and drew the drapes. She sat on an off-white upholstered chair, and propped her feet on a matching footstool. She’d decorated the bedroom as a calming retreat. A bay window had become a seating area with the chair, footstool and off-white silk drapery and sheers.
A queen-size bed with white and beige bed linens, a padded bench covered with silk throw pillows in shades ranging from chocolate to cream was set up for an alcove that had become a second seating area. The stenciled floral design on the double dresser and lingerie chest matched the area rug.
“Preston has been locked in his office for the past two days revising his latest play.”
“Does he come out to eat?”
“Rarely,” Chandra said. “I usually don’t intrude when he gets into what he calls the ‘zone.’ Now, back to why I called you. I got a set of keys from Griffin today, so we’ll be able to let ourselves in.”
“What time do you want me to meet you?” Denise asked her cousin.
“Meet me in Paoli any time before ten. I know that means your leaving D.C. early, but I want to get everything decorated before one o’clock.”
“There’s something you should know,” Denise said after a pause.
“What, Denise?”
“I’m bringing someone with me.”
“Good! The more the merrier.”
“You don’t understand, Chandra.”
“What’s not to understand, Denise? You have a date.”
An audible sigh filled the room as she stared at the lighted wall sconce in the sitting alcove. “What if my date is Rhett Fennell? Are you still there, Chandra?” she asked when silence came through the earpiece.
“I’m here. When did you start seeing him again?”
“Tonight we had dinner together.”
Denise knew she had to alert Chandra that she was coming with Rhett, because not to would prove embarrassing to all involved and knowing Chandra she knew she would tell the other family members that Rhett was back in her life. Although it was just for the summer, he would still be a part of her life until she fulfilled the terms of their business arrangement.
“Do you want me to tell the others that he’s coming?”
“There’s no need to send out an APB.”
Chandra laughed. “I’ll try to be subtle.”
It was Denise’s turn to laugh. “You wouldn’t know subtle if it stood on your chest, Mrs. Tucker.”
“You know you’re wrong, Denise Eaton.”
“Hang up, Chandra.”
“Good night.”
Denise ended the call, pressed her head to the back of the chair and closed her eyes. She couldn’t believe she’d allowed herself to be victimized by a man who held the future of her business venture in his grasp. Rhett knew the importance of reliable and quality day care. He’d grown up with latchkey kids who were left home alone because their parents had to work and couldn’t afford to pay someone to look after their children. Social workers from children’s services made regular visits to his neighborhood to follow up on complaints stemming from abuse and neglect of children who were unsupervised at night and into the early morning hours. Rhett had been one of the luckier children because his aunt babysat him until he was school-age.
She opened her eyes, struggling not to let the tears filling her eyes spill over. She’d accused Rhett of blackmail and sexual harassment, while he’d called it negotiating. The only saving grace was they wouldn’t sleep together. Making love to Rhett Fennell was akin to smoking crack. The addiction was instantaneous.
Forcing herself to rise from the comfy chair, Denise went through the motions of undressing. Then she walked into the en suite bathroom to remove her makeup. Twenty minutes later she touched the switch, turning off the wall sconce and floor lamp. Her eyelids were drooping slightly when she pulled back the comforter and slipped between cool, crisp sheets. Reaching over, she turned off the lamp on the bedside table, and this time when she closed her eyes she didn’t open them again until a sliver of light poured in through the octagonal window over the sitting area.

Rhett massaged his forehead with his fingertips as he compared the bottom line for three years of profit and loss statements for Chambers Properties, Ltd. A steady decline in profits was an obvious indicator that the company was ripe for the picking.
After reuniting with Denise Eaton, he’d thrown himself into his work with the voracity of a starving man at a banquet. Work and more work had not diminished his anxiety at being unable to get her out of his head.
During the walk back to the hotel, after having made certain she was safely in her car, Rhett had replayed the two hours they’d spent together. Even when he’d executed what some had called his “sucker punch” takeover, he hadn’t felt as ashamed as he had now. His quest for revenge had gone beyond what he deemed ethical. He’d used his money and the power that went along with it to intimidate and bully a woman who’d sacrificed her time and money to provide essential services to a low-income and working-class community.
Although he’d threatened to double the rent for the child care facility, Rhett knew he never would’ve gone through with it. After all, he wasn’t that far removed from his humble roots to ignore the importance of adequate child care. He was luckier than most of the children from his neighborhood because his maternal aunt had looked after him while his mother worked long hours waiting tables.
When he was six years old, Geraldine Fennell had enrolled him in Marshall Foote Academy, a prestigious boarding school in northern Virginia, where he’d returned home during the summer months and holidays. He’d studied harder than any other boy at the prep school, and after a year his mother had been able to qualify for financial aid. For every grade of ninety and above, the tuition for that term had been waived.
Rhett had learned early in life that he was smart. But he hadn’t realized how smart he actually was until it had come time for exams. One of his instructors had accused him of cheating because he’d written verbatim the answer he’d read in his textbook. It was only after Geraldine had been summoned to the school for a conference with the teacher and headmaster that they had become aware of his photographic memory. He was able to recall whole paragraphs from textbooks without thinking about it.
It had been the first and only time he’d seen his mother lose her temper. And it had been the only time he’d forgotten some of the words she’d flung at the red-faced men. Once they’d apologized profusely, Geraldine had returned to D.C., Rhett had been escorted back to his dormitory and the headmaster had chastised the instructor for embarrassing him and jeopardizing the academy’s reputation with unsubstantiated allegations when he’d accused their best student of cheating.
Attending the academy had afforded him the opportunity for a quality education. He’d also managed to escape the social problems that plagued his poor urban neighborhood.
Yes, he’d made it out and he’d made a difference. But the differences were quiet, subtle. And with every company he took over, Rhett always looked after the employees. Those who wanted out he offered a generous severance package. Those who didn’t, he created positions for them—even if he had to reduce their salaries. The rationale was at least they had a paycheck.
The buzz of the intercom interrupted his reverie. “Yes, Tracy.”
“Your uncle is here.”
Rhett smiled. “Tell him I’ll be right out.” He took a quick glance at the clock on his desk. “I’ll probably be gone for the rest of the day. Take messages and if there’s anything you can’t handle, then call me on my cell.”
“No problem, Rhett,” said his executive assistant.
He’d hired Tracy Powell when his office had been nothing more than a twelve-by-twelve second bedroom in his apartment after he’d earned an MBA from Wharton business school. He’d purchased two used desks, installed a telephone line separate from his personal one and he and the part-time bookkeeper/secretary/receptionist grew a company from two to fourteen employees.
After two years, Rhett rented space in an office building in downtown D.C., and now he owned a four-story town house blocks from Dupont Circle. The first three floors were occupied by his various holding companies. And when renovations on the fourth floor were completed Rhett would move into what would become his private apartment. His decision to live in the same building where he worked was because he’d found himself spending more time there than he had at his condominium. He’d sold the condo and had temporarily moved into the hotel while the contractor renovated the space.
What he constantly reminded himself was that other than his mother, he had no family. His grandparents were dead and so was the aunt who’d looked after him. There was only he and his mother, who’d found happiness with a sixty-year-old widower who adored her.
Rhett knew his reluctance to settle down with a woman stemmed from his relationship with Denise Eaton. The first time he’d slept with her he knew he wanted her to be the only woman in his life. What he hadn’t known at the time was that she wouldn’t be. There had been women after Denise—more than he’d willingly admit—to fill up the empty hours or to slake his sexual frustration.
Then everything had changed when a woman had accused him of leading her on, that she’d expected a commitment that would eventually lead to marriage. He’d made a decision not to date or sleep with women. It was during this time that he’d been forced to reexamine his wanton behavior and acknowledge his selfishness.
Women were not his playthings. They were not receptacles for his lust or frustration. They wanted more than a slam bam thank you ma’am. When he’d finally told his mother about the revolving door of women in and out of his life, her comeback had been he should think of them as his sister—did he want a man to treat her with a total disregard for her feelings? The analogy had been enough for him to stop his self-destructive behavior.
Rolling down and buttoning the cuffs of his shirt, Rhett reached for the jacket to his suit and walked out of his office. He nodded in the direction of the man lounging on a leather chair in the waiting alcove outside his office.
Tracy Powell peered over her half-glasses, a profusion of salt-and-pepper braids framing her smooth goldbrown face. She couldn’t understand why the rumpled-looking older man hadn’t taken a hint from his young nephew and put on something that didn’t look as if it had just come out of the washing machine.
“Enjoy your lunch,” she called out to the two men.
Rhett gave her a wink. “Thank you.”
He walked with Eli Oakes to the elevator, taking it to the street level. Moments after stepping out into the bright sunlight, they exchanged a handshake. Eli wasn’t his uncle, but a private investigator. When he’d met Eli for the first time, Rhett thought of him as kind of a black Columbo. Eli even wore a wrinkled trench coat during cooler, rainy weather. The former police officer admitted to being forty-seven, a confirmed bachelor and a recovering alcoholic. Tall and gangly with smooth sable-brown skin, the man’s innocuous appearance was a foil for a sharp mind that noted details most people were likely to overlook.
“Where do you want to eat?”
Eli put on a pair of sunglasses, then ran a hand over his stubbly pate. “I had a big breakfast, so I don’t need anything too heavy.”
Rhett rested a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “There’s a new restaurant on Massachusetts that features salads and wraps and vegetarian dishes. We can try it if you want.”
Eli smiled. “Let’s try it.”

“What do you have for me?” Rhett asked after he and Eli gave the waitress their orders.
Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, Eli pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “See for yourself.” He pushed it across the table.
Rhett unfolded the page of type. His expression didn’t change as he read the information the investigator had come up with on Trey Chambers. “He’s a busy boy,” he murmured. “No wonder his business is in the toilet.”
Eli picked up a glass of sweet tea, taking a long swallow. “What I didn’t include in that report is that Chambers spends a lot of time at the track.”
Rhett digested this information as he counted the number of boards on which Trey Chambers either chaired or was a member. What surprised him was Eli’s claim that Trey had a gambling problem. When they were in college together he hadn’t remembered the business major gambling. Even when coeds were placing bets during March Madness, Trey hadn’t participated.
“Is he winning or losing?”
Eli shrugged his shoulders under his jacket. “Both. He made a bundle betting on the Derby and Preakness, but we’ll have to see what he does with the Belmont Stakes.”
“Trey was never much of a gambler.”
A sly smile parted the lips of the man whose decorated law enforcement career had ended after he’d been injured in a hit-and-run when he’d gone out early one morning to buy the newspaper. He’d lain in a coma for several months; when he’d emerged he submitted his retirement papers and went into private investigation. “Trey’s daddy is no longer collecting wives, but horses. That could explain Junior’s sudden interest in the ponies.”
Rhett wanted to tell Eli that if the Chambers were winning at the track, they weren’t putting it back into their real estate business. Chambers Properties owned large parcels of land in Baltimore and D.C., and there was one tract not far from Baltimore Harbor that Chambers wanted. Rhett, also interested in the property, had submitted a bid.
The waitress approached the table, setting down a plate with a tuna salad with sprouts on a bed of lettuce for Eli and a bowl of Caesar salad for Rhett.
Over lunch, the topic of conversation changed to sports—baseball and the upcoming football season. The two men talked about trades and drafts, becoming more animated when they argued good-naturedly about teams they predicted would win the World Series and Super Bowl. Most of the lunch crowd had thinned out when Rhett paid the check and slid an envelope across the table.
Eli picked up the envelope, peering into its contents. “What’s up with the cash?” Rhett usually gave him a check as payment for his services.
“Think of it as a mid-year bonus.”
Lines of consternation were etched into Eli’s forehead. “A bonus for what?”
Rhett wanted to tell the man to take the money and stop asking so many questions, but he knew once a cop always a cop. He didn’t want Eli to think he was trying to set him up, which was why he always paid him with a check and at the end of the year issued a 1099 for his personal services.
“It’s a little extra for reuniting me with my old girlfriend.”
Eli’s expression brightened. “If that’s the case, then I’ll humbly accept your mid-year bonus.”
Backing away from the table, the men walked out of the restaurant, going in opposite directions. Rhett walked back to where he’d parked his car. Instead of driving to the hotel, he headed in the opposite direction. A quarter of an hour later, he maneuvered into the parking lot across the street from New Visions Childcare.
“How long will you be gone?” the attendant asked.
“Less than half an hour,” Rhett said, handing the man the keys to his late-model Mercedes Benz sedan.
Crossing the street, he opened the door to the one-story brick building and walked into a reception area. Recessed lighting illuminated the space with a warm glow while the calming green paint with an alphabet border added a festive touch. Rhett had also noticed several security cameras were positioned inside and outside the facility.
A young woman sitting behind a glassed partition was on the phone arguing with someone who wanted to pick up a child, but didn’t have authorization. “I’m sorry, Mr. Hawkins, but rules are rules. If you submit official documentation from the court, then we’ll be able to release your son to you. You have a good day, too.” She stuck out her tongue at the telephone console before realizing someone was watching her.
Rhett smiled as she slid back the glass. “I’m here to see Ms. Denise Eaton.”
The receptionist, who had long airbrushed nails, gave him a bored look. “Is she expecting you?”
“No, she isn’t. Can you please let her know Garrett Fennell would like to see her?”
“Ms. Eaton usually won’t see anyone without an appointment.”
“I’m certain she’ll see me.” There was a ring of confidence in the statement.
“What’s your name again?”
“Garrett Fennell.”
He stared at the woman’s long nails, which reminded him of talons, as she tapped the buttons of the telephone console, and spoke quietly into her headset. She pushed another button. “Please have a seat, Mr. Fennell. Ms. Eaton will be with you shortly.”
Rhett sat on a decorative wrought-iron back bench and thumbed through a magazine from a stack on a low side table. He smiled at the picture of an infant staring back at him on the glossy cover. Flipping through the magazine, he found an article about coping with temper tantrums. Halfway through the article, the receptionist told him Ms. Eaton was now available to see him.
He walked toward the door with a sign that said you had to see the receptionist before being buzzed in. He pushed open the door when the buzzer sounded, coming face-to-face with a very different Denise Eaton.

Chapter Four
When Denise left Rhett standing on the curb, she hadn’t expected to see him again until Saturday. Less than twenty-four hours later he had surprised her again.
“Have you come to renege on our deal?”
Denise had spoken so softly Rhett had to strain to hear what she was saying. “Is that what you want?” he asked. “You want out?”
“Did I say I wanted out?” Denise found it hard to breathe. She was standing in a hallway, less than two feet from Rhett Fennell, whose presence seemed to suck the air from her lungs. She lowered her gaze rather than let him see her lusting after him. And that was exactly what she’d fantasized about the night before. She’d gone to bed thinking of Rhett, which was enough to trigger an erotic dream. When she awoke, it was to a pounding heartbeat and a pulsing between her legs that left her wet and moaning in frustration.
“Come to my office, and we’ll talk.”
Denise had invited Rhett to her office when what she’d wanted was to show him the door. They had struck a deal to see each other on weekends only.
Rhett noticed the gentle sway of Denise’s hips in a pair of black cropped stretch pants. He knew she was tense because her back was ramrod straight and both hands at her side were balled into fists. The casual slacks, sleeveless white blouse and black sandals with a wedge heel made her look more approachable than she had the night before. The blue dress reminded him of an ice queen—look but don’t touch. And he hadn’t touched her except to cradle her elbow.
Even her hairstyle was different. Instead of the bun, which he’d found much too severe for her age and delicate features, a narrow headband pulled her glossy curls off her face. When they were in school together she’d always worn a short hairstyle.
Rhett felt the flesh between his thighs come to life when the image of her hair spread across his pillow popped into his head. Just as quickly, it went away, leaving him breathing heavier and with an ache in his groin. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. Fortunately for him, Denise was in front of him or she wouldn’t have been able to miss his hard-on straining against his fly. As surreptitiously as he could, he buttoned his jacket, concealing the bulge.
“How much work did you have to do to this place before you were able to open?” He had to talk. Say anything to keep his mind off Denise’s slim, yet curvy body. They walked past closed doors to offices for the center’s social worker, dietician and business manager. Nameplates identified each person and their position.
Denise slowed when she came to an open area with eight round tables, each with seating for six. As in the reception area, she’d decided against chairs, opting instead for benches. Several skylights, potted plants, ferns and ficus trees provided a parklike atmosphere.
“Not too much,” she threw over her shoulder as she opened the door to her office. Her name and position were etched on the nameplate affixed to the door. “The contractor had to patch up a few holes before he could paint. The previous owner had replaced the roof three years ago, so that saved me at least thirty grand.”
Stepping aside, Denise let Rhett precede her into the room that at one time had been her second home. She’d come in at dawn to let the workmen in and occasionally slept on an inflatable bed she’d put away in a closet. The center was equipped with three full bathrooms, each with a shower and two half-baths in the nursery and classrooms for children, ranging in age from two to five.
“Please sit down, Rhett.” Denise gestured toward a love seat in a soft neutral shade. She sat in a matching one facing him. She crossed one leg over the other, bringing his gaze to linger on the rose-pink polish on her toes. “Would you like something to eat or drink? We’ve just finished giving the children their lunch, so the kitchen is still open.”
“No, thank you. I just ate.”
He glanced around Denise’s office. It reflected her personality with plants lining a window ledge. Her desk was an old oak top from another generation, a Tiffany-style desk lamp, a fireplace mantel filled with different size candles. Three of the four walls in her office were brick, the remaining one covered with framed prints of children from around the world.
Denise stared at Rhett through lowered lashes. To say he looked delicious was an understatement. Today he wore a dark blue suit with a maroon-colored silk tie and white shirt. He looked nothing like the college student who’d favored jeans, pullover sweaters or sweatshirts. At that time, Rhett owned just one suit, which he only wore on special occasions.
“How old is that desk?”
Rhett’s question caught Denise off guard. She didn’t know why he’d come to the center, but she was willing to bet it had nothing to do with the furnishings. “It’s quite old.”
He smiled. “How old is quite old?”
“I’m not selling it, Rhett.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Why don’t you wait for me to make an offer.”
“Offer all you want, I’m not selling.”
Rhett angled his head, staring at the antique desk. “Have you had it appraised?”
She nodded. “Appraised and insured. It belonged to my grandfather who got it from a client who’d lost all of his assets in the crash of ‘29. The desk and several other pieces of furniture were payment for a criminal case my grandfather had taken on and won for him. My father inherited it from his father. He gave up his practice once he was appointed to the bench, and I quickly put in my bid for the desk.”
“Who else wanted it?” Rhett asked.
“Every lawyer in the family pulled out their check-books, claiming it should go to someone practicing law, not a schoolteacher.”
“Ouch,” Rhett drawled, smiling. “That’s definitely a shot across the bow.”
Denise sucked her teeth. “Yeah, right. I was quick to tell them the desk belonged to my father, and as his baby girl I was entitled to it.”
“No, you didn’t pull the baby-girl card.”
“Whatever works, Rhett.”
He sobered. “Speaking of whatever works, I’d like you to give me a tour of the facility.”
“Why?” she countered. “Are you thinking of becoming an investor?”
Denise regretted the question as soon as it rolled off her tongue. It was enough that Rhett owned the building and the land on which New Visions Childcare sat, but she didn’t need him to own a percentage of her business.
“Do you need an investor, Denise?”
“No,” she said much too quickly. “My revenues are enough to support the day care operation.”
“Do you have money put aside?”
“Yes.” And she did. The monies she would get from the sale of her co-op would become her emergency fund. Denise had promised herself that she wouldn’t use her personal funds unless it was a dire emergency. So far, she’d been able to keep that promise.
“Good for you.” Rhett stood up, extended his hand and pulled Denise gently to her feet. “My initial reason for coming was to talk to you about this weekend.”
“You could’ve called me, Rhett. After all, I did give you my number.”
“I was in the neighborhood, so I decided to drop by.”
He hadn’t lied to Denise. He’d come to this section of D.C. to tour the neighborhood and see what was needed to upgrade the quality of life for the people who lived there. His company owned four square blocks designated for commercial use; the urban planner on his staff had suggested he drive around the neighborhood to survey the area before he made his decision about redevelopment.
“What are you doing, Rhett? Taking stock of your assets?”
Rhett knew Denise was spoiling for a confrontation because he’d coerced her into being his escort for the summer. She could’ve called his bluff and said no, but she hadn’t. Despite their very intimate past, she still hadn’t known him that well. If she had, then she would’ve believed him rather than Trey when he’d told her that he hadn’t been sleeping with other women. And if she had truly believed him when he confessed to loving her, she wouldn’t have ended up in bed with Trey.
He hadn’t purchased the real estate to jack up the rents, as he’d threatened to do with New Visions, but to improve the property and the quality of life for the residents.
Rhett wasn’t that far removed from the neighborhood in which he’d grown up not to recognize the importance of adequate child care. It provided a safe haven for the children of working parents and those who were trying to pursue their education and thereby better themselves and their families. However, Denise had fallen into a carefully planned trap.
He took a step, bringing him close enough for her chest to touch his. “Which assets do you speak of?”
Denise hadn’t realized the double entendre until it was too late. Her lips parted at the same time Rhett angled his head, brushing his mouth over hers. His hands came up and he took her face, holding it gently as if he feared she would shatter if he let her go.
Slowly, deliberately, he caressed instead of kissing her mouth, seeking to allay her fears that he wanted to dismantle what she’d worked so hard to establish. He kissed her because it was something he’d wanted to do the moment he saw her walk across the lobby of the Hay-Adams hotel.
Tiptoeing, Denise pressed her lips closer. Rhett’s mouth brushed hers like a butterfly fluttering over her lips. She wanted more, much more, but she knew they couldn’t and wouldn’t go back in time.
She and Rhett had been caught up in a magical world where love and passion were indistinguishable. They’d eaten together, studied together, made love to each other and spent countless hours planning a future that included marriage and children.
However, four years of togetherness ended abruptly when the rumor floating around the university that Garrett Fennell was sleeping with her and another student was no longer a rumor but real when Denise opened the door to her boyfriend’s dorm room to find a naked woman asleep in his bed. In that instant, the love she’d known and felt for Rhett disappeared. She’d left as quietly as she’d come, walking out of the building and out of Rhett’s life.
“Don’t! Please, Rhett.”
Rhett froze, his gaze meeting and fusing with Denise’s. There was something in her eyes he recognized as fear and he wondered whether he’d put it there. He dipped his head to kiss her again, but her hands pressed against his chest stopped him.
“What’s wrong, Denise?”
A rush of heat singed Denise’s face and body when she realized the enormity of what had just taken place. “You coming here unannounced and then kissing me when someone could’ve walked in on us. That’s what’s wrong,” she spat out.
Smiling, Rhett pushed his hands into the pockets of his suit trousers to keep from reaching for her again. Anger had replaced the fear, and he remembered Denise being most passionate whenever she was angry. Memories of their makeup sex were permanently branded into his head.
“The next time I come I’ll make certain to make an appointment beforehand. And I promise never to kiss you again in your office.”
Denise saw the beginnings of a smirk. If she was going to be angry at anyone, then it had to be at herself. She’d learned never to challenge Rhett Fennell because he would accept the challenge and win.
He’d waged a silent and bloodless battle when he’d outlined the conditions for renewing her lease—leaving her with little or no recourse, and she was forced to accept his terms. Rhett had called it negotiating, while to her it was still a subtle form of blackmail.
The residents in the neighborhood needed the child care center, she wanted to make certain it remained open, and it wasn’t as if she had a horde of men lining up outside her door to take her out.
What Denise hadn’t wanted to think about was if she had had a boyfriend would Rhett have proposed the same game plan. Then she’d recalled him saying, “I need someone who will stand in as my date and hostess, provided your boyfriend doesn’t object,” and she’d answered her own question. It would not have made a difference.
“Please give me a few minutes, and I’ll take you around to see the facility.”
Walking on stiff legs, Denise went into the private bathroom and shut the door. The image staring back at her in the mirror over the sink was one she didn’t recognize.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered. If Rhett hadn’t ended the kiss when he did, she probably would’ve asked for more—and more translated into her begging him to make love to her.
When she and Rhett shared a bed for the first time it had been her first time. Denise knew she’d shocked him, because she hadn’t told him she was a virgin. What she hadn’t wanted was for him to feel guilty and continue to see her out of a perverse sense of obligation.
However, he did continue to date her. It was another month before they made love again, and she’d experienced her first orgasm. Making love with Rhett was always good. Makeup sex was even better. It was the memories of their lovemaking, the plans they’d made for a life beyond college, that had lingered with her after she’d graduated and returned to Philadelphia.
It had taken more than a year for her to acknowledge what she’d had with Rhett was over and she had to move on with her life. She’d gotten back into the dating scene when she and several teachers at the school where she’d taught met regularly at a downtown Philly club on Friday nights. Denise had refused to date any of the male teachers with whom she worked, but she had met a software analyst at one of the weekly social mixers. They’d played telephone tag for several weeks before connecting.
Denise had liked Kevin enough to go out with him for three months. They’d slept together once. Days later she had been filled with guilt because she’d compared Kevin to Rhett, and the former fell far short of satisfying her. Kevin had seemed to get the picture without her having to connect the dots, and they had mutually agreed to stop seeing each other.
“Denise, are you all right in there?” asked Rhett outside the closed door.
“I’m good. Just give me a few more minutes.”
When did you become such an astute liar? Denise mused, as she splashed cold water on her face. She patted her face with a soft towel, then opened the chest over the sink and took out a small jar with powder that matched her skin tone. She shook out a minute amount on a brush and applied the powder to her face. Within seconds her face had a rich, healthy glow. A coat of mascara to her lashes and lip gloss rounded out her mini-makeover. Denise ran her fingers through her hair, fluffing up the curls before she washed her hands.
It’s amazing what a new do, a new outfit and a little makeup can do to lift a woman’s spirit. Denise smiled in spite of the situation in which she’d found herself. “Thank you, Mom,” she whispered.
Paulette Eaton’s manifesto had served her well on many occasions. She didn’t have a new do or outfit, but a little color on her face had done the trick. When she emerged from the bathroom she was emotionally ready to deal with the likes of Rhett Fennell.
Her eyes were smiling and her step light as she reached for a lanyard with her picture ID, then led him out of her office. “This area of the center is called the administrative section. Whenever we have staff meetings, or something when we invite the parents and siblings of the children enrolled here, we hold them out here.”
“It looks like a park,” Rhett said.

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