Читать онлайн книгу «Temptation and Lies» автора Donna Hill

Temptation and Lies
Donna Hill
As CEO of an event-planning company, sultry siren Nia Turner deftly navigates the corporate boardroom. No one would ever guess she's also an undercover agent for The Ladies Cartel. TLC is a clandestine organization that operates under the guise of selling Tender Loving Care body products–but their true mission is crime-fighting.Living a double life can be stressful, especially when Nia is dating sexy architect Steven Long. As she vigilantly attempts to identify the players in what could be the biggest sex scandal the city has seen in decades, Steven begins to suspect that she is stepping out on him. Nia gets caught in a web of lies and scandal that threatens to tear her relationship apart.



“Hey, baby.” His tone was low and intimate—just for her.
She slid her right hand around the back of his neck and took the last step that separated them. Her body melded with his like putty, molding itself to the hard lines, from the broad expanse of his chest to his muscular thighs.

Mia tilted her head slightly upward and brought her mouth to his.

Steven groaned deep in his throat when the softness of her lips connected with his. He maneuvered her so that her back was against the frame of the archway to the kitchen.

The sweetness of her tongue set off a firestorm in his gut. His erection was electrifying and so suddenly powerful that the world receded and an uncontrolled need took its place.

Her long, slender fingers grazed along his body, stoking the growing fire of desire.

DONNA HILL
began writing novels in 1990. Since then, she has had more than forty books published, including full-length novels and novellas. Two of her novels and one novella were adapted for television. She has won numerous awards for her body of work. Donna is also the editor of five novels, two of which were nominated for awards. She easily moves from romance to erotica, horror, comedy and women’s fiction. She was the first recipient of the Trailblazer Award, and currently teaches writing at the Frederick Douglass Creative Arts Center. Donna lives in Brooklyn with her family. Visit her Web site at www.donnahill.com.

Temptation and Lies
Donna Hill

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
I want to thank my readers who have
continued to support me for the past 18 years!!!!
I love ya.
Dear Reader,

First and foremost I want to thank the incredible readers and book clubs who have made the TLC series so successful. I appreciate each and every one of you and I plan to keep the stories coming.

I do hope you enjoy this latest installment of the TLC series. I’m having a ball “ripping my stories from the headlines” and dumping them in the laps of my characters.

So far you should have met Savannah from Sex and Lies and then Danielle in Seduction and Lies, and now I proudly wish to introduce Mia Turner, who will take center stage. I do believe this story is my favorite. Mia is quirky, sexy, smart and in a hot mess of trouble—trapped between two men, a twisted assignment and confusion of the heart! But of course she will have her girls by her side along with a brand-new friend, Ashley Temple.

Be on the lookout for Scandals and Lies, coming very soon.

In the meantime, sit back, get a cup of something cold and get to reading! LOL. I’d love to hear what you think. Send me a note to writerdoh@aol.com.

Until we meet again, happy reading!

Donna

Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26

Chapter 1
The October sun peeked through the slats in the vertical blinds, throwing a soft glow across the state-of-the-art kitchen. Mia Turner loved to cook and considered herself something of a gourmet chef, always willing to try new recipes. And she firmly believed that a good meal opened and soothed the soul. The best conversations, confessions and gossip could be had over a good meal.
With her piping-hot mug of imported Turkish coffee on the left, her sparkling pearl-handle .22 on the right, she snapped open the Daily News and immediately turned to Page Six. She circled several high-profile items about celebs and business tycoons spotted in and around the Big Apple as she sipped her coffee. The smooth blend had been a gift from one of her grateful clients. She made a note on the pad next to her saucer to call Paul Han and thank him for his “thank you.”
Page Six aside, she turned her attention to the egg-white omelet that she painstakingly prepared every morning. It was stuffed with mushrooms, tomatoes, green peppers and cheddar cheese. She took a forkful and sighed with pleasure.
There were two things that were paramount in Mia’s life: great food and paying clients. Well, three things—order, too. No, make that four—Steven.
The last item on her must-have list made her smile and she thought about the incredible lovemaking session they’d had just that morning, in this very chair. She wiggled her plump bottom as images of her and Steven played behind her partially closed lids.
Her best friends, Savannah Fields and Danielle Holloway, teased her about her neurotic obsessions, but they had to agree that Steven Long was certainly worth being obsessed about.
Mia was the last of the trio to find someone special in her life. Savannah and Blake had been married for seven years and had just had their first child—Mikayla—the most gorgeous baby girl the world had ever seen. And Danielle had finally allowed her heart to open and let Nick Mateo in, and they were now living together and engaged!
For a while Mia believed she’d always be the fifth wheel, until she actually took a second look at Steven Long.
They’d known each other casually for years: Blake and Steven were best friends and business partners at their architecture and development company.
But it wasn’t until Mia had hosted a party at her house about ten months earlier that they actually saw each other as more than “the best friend of their best friend.”
Since that night, Mia and Steven had been pretty much inseparable, only allowing the pressing business of their respective livelihoods to keep them apart.
Mia closed her paper, finished off her omelet and washed it down with the last of her coffee.
She took her dishes to the sink, rinsed then placed them in the dishwasher.
This part of her morning ritual completed, she took her gun from the table and walked the short hallway that led from the front of the two-bedroom condo to the back where the master bedroom and reconverted second bedroom were located.
She and Steven used that second bedroom as their combined office, so she would never risk him discovering the contents of her “kit,” as Danielle’s lover Nick had done.
A minor disaster like that would take more explaining than she was willing to do. So being the orderly and forward-thinking type-A personality that she was, Mia had cut out a little panel behind the top shelf of her clothes closet, hidden behind boxes of very expensive shoes.
She removed the panel and pulled out her TLC “beauty kit.” Mia smiled as she ran her hand across the smooth pink leather carrying case with the TLC logo emblazoned across the front.
Taking the case to the bed, she turned the latch to review the contents: burglary tools, computer-scanning disk, listening and recording devices, chloroform and a fingerprint dusting kit and, of course, the container that held the bath beads that were actually specially designed tranquilizer bullets for her .22. All the contents were ingeniously camouflaged as bath oil, body lotions, eye shadows, blush, perfumes and lipsticks. She smiled.
Reassured that everything was in order and accounted for, she lifted the top tray and replaced the gun in its cutout compartment below. She knew it was risky to take the gun out each morning after Steven had left for work, but the thrill of seeing it right next to her, where she could admire and stroke it—even though it only held tranquilizer bullets—still gave her a rush.
Mia had become an official member of the Cartel seven months earlier, although she’d been a fringe member since Savannah’s first case a little more than a year ago, which turned up an ugly land deal that would have destroyed an ancient African burial ground right in downtown Brooklyn.
As the owner and CEO of MT Management, Mia’s schedule, though hectic, was her own. That flexibility lent itself to her sideline as an undercover operative for TLC.
Mia returned her kit to its hiding place and checked the time. Jean Wallington-Armstrong, the head of the Cartel, had asked Mia to come to the Harlem brownstone to discuss a new assignment that Jean felt Mia was perfect for.
From there it would be off to her real job—the one she could tell everyone about, she thought with a smile.
Event management was the perfect occupation for Mia. It gave her the opportunity to arrange every aspect of an event, down to the most mundane detail, and she loved every minute of it.
Ever since she was a little girl, growing up in Bedford-Stuyvesant in Brooklyn, she’d had a knack for arranging things. As a preschooler she had a precise time and location for all her doll tea parties and all the accessories had to match and be placed “just so” on the tiny pink plastic table.
The most traumatic incident in her young life was when she went to place the teacups on the saucers and discovered that one of the handles was broken and there were no more in her collection that matched. “You see, the tablecloth, paper napkins and the dolls’ outfits were all color-coordinated,” she’d explained to Savannah and Danielle many years later, who’d both given her sympathetic looks.
She’d become so hysterical that her mother had to promise to replace the entire set the following day. Mia was only five at the time, and her obsession with detail and order only grew and crystallized as she got older.
Of course, now she didn’t collapse into tears and fits when things went awry, but her entire demeanor would become one tightly wound band of tension that was terribly uncomfortable to be around.
That aside, Mia Turner was your everyday, ordinary kind of woman unless, of course, you counted her other life.
She squinted at her appearance in the oval hall mirror. Her smooth, shoulder-length hair haloed her face in soft waves. The slight touches of makeup—bronze lip gloss, mascara and a little powder to keep the shine off her nose—kept her lovely features from being overshadowed. She cinched the belt on her knee-length dress, took her coat and purse and headed out, checking the locks three times before she felt comfortable.

Twenty minutes later she pulled onto 135th Street in Harlem. She parked her midnight-blue Lexus two doors down from the brownstone. The luxury car was a recent present to herself for having achieved a stellar year of profits from her business. In these tight economic times, everyone was cutting back, but her business continued to flourish. Big business, celebrities and the well-off were always having conventions or hosting parties to sell something, impress others or remind everyone else how important they were, and MT Management was the one they invariably called.
Mia slid off her glasses and tucked them into her purse. She was terribly nearsighted but refused to wear her glasses in public and was adamant against “sticking something in her eyes” as she put it, referring to contact lenses. So vanity won out and she went through life squinting, which often gave her a severe appearance that was totally contrary to her open and warm personality. In business, however, it often worked to her advantage: in her dealings and negotiations, her steely gaze gave the impression of a no-nonsense businesswoman.
She gathered her purse and hopped out, her chocolate-colored Milano ankle boots hitting the pavement with a soft pop.
She grabbed her ecru-colored swing coat from the hook in the back of the car and quickly slipped it on. Although it was early October and the sun was high in the sky, the weather had already begun to grow cool.
Setting the alarm on the car, she headed to the brownstone and rang the bottom bell.
Within moments, Claudia, Savannah’s mother, came to the door.
“Hello, darling,” Claudia greeted her, enveloping Mia in a warm hug. The soft scent of Chanel floated around her.
Claudia Martin was in her early sixties, but she didn’t look a day over forty-five. Class and style always exuded from Claudia. She kept her auburn-tinted hair in a fierce cut that mimicked the early Halle Berry look. Her cinnamon complexion was flawless and she rarely wore much makeup, save for a dash of lipstick and mascara to accentuate her incredible hazel eyes. St. John was her designer of choice and she wore it well.
Claudia had been a member of TLC for several years and had recruited her daughter, Savannah. And all those years that Mia, Savannah and Danielle had seen Claudia toting around her TLC carryall and saying she was going to meetings, they’d always believed what she told them: that she was selling beauty products. Ha!
The joke between them, now that Savannah had a daughter of her own, would be that she would recruit little Mikayla when she came of age. Knowing her already feisty infant, Savannah had said Mikayla would probably launch her own division of TLC Tots!
“Looking good as always, Claudia. Bernard must be treating you well. You’re glowing.”
Claudia laughed lightly. “That he does, my dear. Nothing like a good man to get the kinks out.” She winked at Mia and walked inside.
“Have you two finally set a date?”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.” She clasped Mia’s arm and her diamond ring flashed in the late-morning light. “Now that Savannah had the baby and can fit into something ‘fabulous,’ as she said, we wanted a December wedding. Do you think you can put something together in time?”
Mia stopped short, propped her hand on her hip and gave Claudia a look of mild reprimand. “Claudia, this is me. If you said your wedding was this afternoon and you wanted it in Paris, I would make it happen. It’s what I do.”
Claudia laughed in response. “Chile, what was I thinking? Go on,” she said, still chuckling. “Jean is upstairs in her office.”
“We’ll make an appointment to talk,” she promised before heading off.

Mia went up the stairs and down the “hall of fame” as it had been dubbed. The walls on either side were lined with portraits of all the Cartel members who had been affiliated for at least a year and had successfully completed their assignments. She smiled as she spotted Savannah’s photo and then two photos down was one of Danielle. Claudia’s was at the beginning of the row, right next to Jean. Mia drew in a breath of resolve. One day soon her photo would grace the hall of fame, too.
Mia knocked lightly on the closed door.
“Come in.” Jean looked up from her computer screen when Mia entered. “Have a seat. I’ll be right with you.”
Mia did as instructed, taking in the room while she waited. As with all of the brownstones in Harlem and in Brooklyn—which had not been cut up or converted—the rooms were enormous; grand would be a better word. Vaulted ceilings, crystal chandeliers, parquet floors, mahogany sliding doors, massive mantelpieces, stained-glass windows and working fireplaces. Some even had the claw-foot bathtubs and original porcelain sconces.
She’d grown up in a brownstone on Putnam Avenue in Brooklyn. Not quite as big as this one, but large enough. So any time she came here she felt right at home.
Mia crossed her legs.
“Thank you for coming,” Jean began, bypassing any pleasantries.
Mia merely nodded, knowing from experience that Jean wasn’t one for chitchat.
“I have an assignment that is perfect for you, especially with the business that you’re in.”
Jean took a sealed manila envelope from her desk drawer. “All the details are inside. I’ll briefly give you some background. This was handed to me from a personal contact at the FBI. There are some extremely high-profile individuals involved and before the lid gets blown off, they need to be absolutely sure.” She cleared her throat and removed her red-framed glasses, setting them gently down on the desktop. “There is a major, very elite, very exclusive escort service operating in New York City. Although that’s nothing new, what is new is that it appears to be run by Avante Enterprises. You need to find a way to get inside the organization, and get the evidence that the Feds need to shut it down.”
For an instant, Mia couldn’t move. She hoped that Jean couldn’t read the distress on her face, or hear the escalated pounding of her heart. Avante Enterprises had been one of her clients, and several years ago she’d broken a cardinal rule and had a short but fiery affair with its CEO, Michael Burke.

Chapter 2
Mia managed to get through the rest of the briefing without screaming. When she got behind the wheel of her Lexus, she wasn’t quite certain she’d heard anything Jean had said after she’d dropped her Michael Burke bombshell.
By rote she turned the key in the ignition. The engine purred to life, along with the sounds of Marvin Gaye’s classic, “What’s Going On?”
That was the question of the day, she mused. She put on her glasses, drew in a long steadying breath and slowly pulled off in the early-afternoon traffic.

In the privacy of her business office, a ground-floor rental in SoHo, Mia closed and locked the door on the off chance that her new assistant, Ashley Temple, might decide to burst in—as she was prone to do—to update her on the latest TMZ news (a celebrity online and off-line news outlet). She was relieved that Ashley wasn’t up front when she came in and she was able to get to her office undetected, at least for the time being.
Mia depressed the Do Not Disturb button on her phone, then removed the manila envelope from her purse.
She placed it on the desk and stared at the innocuous-looking envelope. It looked like millions of others, but she knew better. The contents had the potential to turn her life inside out.
The affair between her and Michael had been discreet. No one knew about it, especially within the business circles they traveled in. Not even Savannah or Danielle had any idea that anything had transpired. They’d always believed that she simply hadn’t found the right man and, until she’d met Michael, she hadn’t.
When they broke up, it was a long three years before she started intermittently dating. But she’d never found anyone who could measure up—until Steven Long.
Mia ran her manicured finger across the smooth surface of the envelope.
If she broke the seal and opened it, there was no turning back. She’d have to carry out the assignment. Her type-A personality wouldn’t allow her to give up or turn the reins over to someone else.
Drawing in a long breath, she exhaled her doubts and trepidations and broke the seal.
The documents detailed Michael’s rise up the business ranks to eventually running his own management company. He was considered one of the best in the management consulting business.
Her pulse pounded in her temples when she scrolled down to review his personal information.
Marital Status: Divorced
Reflexively, she gripped the pages tighter between her fingers. Her heart thumped as her breathing shortened.
Divorced. He was free. At least on paper.
He was married when they’d met. Guilt had riddled her each time they’d made love until her conscience had no longer allowed her to do that to another woman. Michael had literally begged her not to leave him. He’d promised to get a divorce—just give me some time, he’d said.
But time and promises were things she could not depend on, nor did she want to.
“I can’t do this anymore, Michael,” she recalled saying to him, the agony of speaking the words making her voice paper thin, sounding weak and without conviction.
He turned onto his side. His dark brown eyes moved slowly along her face. His thumb brushed across her bottom lip. “Do what?” he asked, his voice husky and taunting. “This?” His large hand slid between her damp thighs and gently caressed her there.
Mia drew in a sharp breath as the powerful sensations rippled through her.
“Michael…” Her hips arched. She gripped his shoulders and he rose above her, bracing his weight on his forearms.
“I love you so much, Mia,” he said on a ragged breath as he pushed slowly inside her.
Mia wrapped her body and her heart around him, giving him all of her because she knew that this could never happen again.
And it didn’t.

Mia ran her hand along the length of her hair and for a moment shut her eyes, wishing the images of the past away.
She looked down and read further. Michael had been under surveillance for a while. He’d come under suspicion during a routine audit of his company’s finances. There were several discrepancies, which had apparently been cleared up, but he remained a blip on the radar screen.
Apparently, deposits of three to five thousand dollars were routinely placed in one of his secondary accounts, then were quickly transferred to an offshore account in the Cayman Islands.
The more she read, the more ill she became.
The Michael Burke she knew was ambitious, and he could be manipulative if it would land him an account. But this man on paper was not the man she remembered and had once loved.
She closed the folder and knew that shortly the ink would disappear, as if the damning words had never existed.
The knock on her door snapped her to attention. She shoved the envelope into her desk drawer, removed her glasses and went to unlock the door.
“Hi. Come in.”
Ashley’s updated Angela Davis fro bounced in a cinnamon-brown halo around her openly expressive face.
Every time she looked at Ashley, Mia thought of a highly energetic, inquisitive child, even though Ashley was easily in her early thirties.
Ashley was a godsend after Mia lost her last assistant to marriage and happily ever after. Ashley was bright, totally efficient and loved the event-planning business. She was so good, in fact, that Mia had given Ashley two of her own accounts to manage, and her clients loved her.
“Hey, boss,” Ashley greeted her, her warm brown eyes sparkling, as always. Her deep dimples flashed.
“What’s up?”
“A couple of calls that I thought you’d want to handle personally.” She handed Mia a slip of the company’s teal-colored message paper.
They walked toward the small circular table in the far corner of the office and sat down.
Mia squinted at the words on the page until they came into focus. “Sahara Club?” she asked.
Ashley read from a sheet in her hand detailing all the particulars about the Sahara Club, which catered to married couples who wanted to plan quick romantic getaways. The club management wanted to put together an event to promote their business, inviting previous guests to give testimonials about their experience.
Mia’s brows rose as she listened.
“I did an Internet search on them,” Ashley offered in response to the question that hovered on Mia’s lips. She handed over her research material. “I also have a short list of some of their clients. I can have them checked, if you want.”
Mia took the notes and briefly scanned them, the words blurry around the edges.
“This one is for the grand opening of a boutique in Tribeca,” she went on reading her second set of notes. “They want something really upscale. They’d like to come in and talk with you. Should I schedule it?”
“Why don’t you take that one?” Mia said absently. “I’ll sit in on the initial meeting if you need me, but I think you can handle it.”
“No problem.” She paused a moment. “Are you okay? You seem really out of it.”
In the six months that Ashley had worked for Mia, they’d grown rather close, sharing stories and giving each other advice on things like clothes, cars, best deals, politics, religion. Mia had even invited Ashley to join her, Savannah and Danielle for their weekly girls’ brunch at their favorite hangout, The Shop. Over time Mia had grown to respect Ashley’s judgment and clearheaded opinions, which she often sought out. But her current dilemma she could not share.
“I’m fine. Just a little headache.”
Ashley leaned forward. “Maybe if you wore your glasses to read and move around in the world, your head would stop hurting. It’s probably eyestrain.”
Mia made a face. It was her personal pet peeve. “I’ll be fine. I’ll take something for it.”
Ashley huffed. “Suit yourself.” She pushed up from the desk. “I’ll give these ladies from the boutique a call and get that set up.”
“Thanks.”

Alone now, Mia’s thoughts reluctantly turned to her most pressing situation: in order to complete her assignment, she was going to have to see Michael again. And she wasn’t sure how she was going to handle that.
What she needed was some advice. Savannah was totally out of the question. She was a devout believer in the sanctity of marriage. She’d had her own scare with her husband, Blake, and she didn’t look favorably on the “other woman,” which is what Mia had been.
Danielle, though much more open-minded, had mellowed since she’d settled down with Nick. And although she might be more understanding, Dani’s quick, sharp tongue was not something she wanted to deal with, either.
Those were the reasons why she’d never told her two best friends about what had gone on between her and Michael. It went against everything they believed in. She’d cringe every time the topic of adultery and cheating came up during their chats. She never wanted to disappoint them or see that appalled look in their eyes. She knew they’d demand an explanation as to why, and she wouldn’t be able to provide one, because she didn’t know why.
Sounds of Ashley singing a very bad rendition of a Mary J. Blige tune drifted to her ears. Mia smiled. Oh, to be carefree, she mused.
Her phone rang.
“MT Management, Mia speaking.”
“Hey, baby. Caught you at your desk.”
“Hi, sweetie. This is a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I have a couple of hours and I thought I’d swing by and take my favorite girl to a late lunch. If you haven’t eaten already.”
“I’d love to.”
“Great. See you in about twenty minutes.”
“Okay.” Mia hung up the phone. Spending some time with Steven was just what she needed.

As promised, twenty minutes later, Steven came walking through the door.
Mia’s heart skipped a beat when she saw him. She stood and came from behind her desk, her body warming with every step.
“Hi,” she whispered as she came to a stop in front of him.
Steven Long was, for lack of a better word, gorgeous. His complexion was the color of polished mahogany, he had a hard square jaw and chocolate-brown eyes with silky brows and lashes to die for.
Two years in a row Jet magazine had listed him as one of New York’s most eligible bachelors. That was before he’d hooked up with Mia. Now he was off the market—permanently, if Mia had any say in the matter.
His gunmetal gray suit fit every inch of his six-foot frame, and damn if she didn’t love a man in a good-looking suit. His pearl-gray shirt and burgundy-and-gray-striped tie set off the suit and his skin to perfection.
Steven snaked his arm around Mia’s waist and swept her into a deep, lingering kiss that took her breath away. When he released her, she felt shaken and hot with desire.
“You’re going to have to stop by more often,” she said, stroking his cheek with the tip of her finger.
He grinned. “If only I could, gorgeous. How’s your day been so far?”
Reality slammed into her. Her heart thumped. “Uh, not bad. We may have two more clients.”
“That’s great. Congrats.”
“Good for business, but not great for relationships. It means that I’ll be even busier,” she said, knowing that in the coming weeks she would need time away from Steven.
He took her hand and massaged the center of her palm in sensuous circular motions that sent shivers running through her.
“If anyone can multitask and make it look like child’s play, it’s you, babe.” He pecked her softly on the lips. “I ain’t worried,” he said with a grin. “Come on, let’s go before we spend all our free time talking about what time we won’t have.”
“Lead the way.”

“How did you manage to get time away from the office?” Mia asked as they were seated in a back booth at Brothers Bistro, a great health-food eatery within walking distance of her office.
“Blake is in the field taking some sketches of the renovation project in Brooklyn. This morning I put the finishing touches on the blueprints for the town houses in D.C. and realized I actually had some breathing room for a change.”
It was amazing how far Steven and Blake had come in just over a decade. They’d built their business from a two-man company, working out of a storefront, to one of the major players with a staff of ten, an office in midtown and contracts that were expanding their business from its Manhattan locale to the capital.
“If business keeps growing this way, any midday getaway would be wishful thinking,” Steven said.
“Are you and Blake planning to hire more people?”
“We may have to, just to handle the volume. But my fear is, as I’ve explained to Blake, at some point the bottom is going to drop out. Builders are going to stop building because no one can afford to buy.”
Mia nodded in agreement. She knew all too well the fragility of the current economy and how it had wreaked havoc on countless American businesses, not to mention the thousands who’d lost their homes.
“I don’t want to have to hire new people and realize in six months or a year that we have to let them go.”
“What does Blake say?”
“You know Blake, Mr. Optimistic. But I think I’m getting him to see my point.”
“So what’s plan B?”
“Work our asses off,” he said with a chuckle.
Mia raised her water glass. “To working our asses off.”
As she sat there laughing and talking with the man she loved and who loved her back, she knew that it was only a matter of time before the lies began. And she could only pray that he never found out—not so much about the Cartel, which would be devastating enough—but about her and Michael.
Savannah’s censure she could live with. Danielle’s sharp tongue she could handle. But the hurt and lack of respect that she knew would be in Steven’s eyes would kill her inside. She would do whatever it took to keep that information from him. She’d get through it.
But the true test would come when she saw Michael again for the first time. She knew it would be soon.
Much too soon.

Chapter 3
It had been three days since Mia received her assignment and she had yet to do anything about it. She felt frozen, torn between what she had agreed to do—the oath she’d sworn—and the possible repercussions if she did what was necessary.
“Mia.”
She glanced up from the files on her desk and was surprised to see Ashley standing in front of her.
“I…didn’t hear you come in,” she muttered.
“I know. I knocked three times, but you didn’t answer. I’ve been standing here for a good thirty seconds and you didn’t budge. Is everything okay? You’ve been totally distracted for the past few days. That’s so not like you.”
Mia sighed heavily and leaned back in her chair. She’d been debating about sharing some of her dilemma with Ashley—an abridged version—in hopes of getting an objective view. But because of the sensitivity of the issue, she’d balked at airing her dirty laundry. But holding it in was driving her crazy.
She was a person of action, one who dealt with issues head-on. This inertia was maddening.
“You want to talk?” Ashley gently nudged. “I’m a pretty good listener,” she added with an encouraging smile.
Mia pressed her lips together in thought. Finally, she spoke. “Have you ever been in a situation when an old flame came back into your life?”
“Sure. Why?” She sat down on the chair beside Mia’s desk.
“What did you do?”
“Well, we had dinner, talked about old times, the way things were. I spent the night at his place and we woke up the next morning and realized that it was truly over—you can’t go back. At least Dave and I couldn’t.”
“Hmm.” Mia’s gaze drifted away. Spending the night with Michael was not an option. She couldn’t do that to Steven in a million years.
“Is that what’s going on?” Ashley tentatively asked.
Mia turned her gaze on Ashley. “Something like that. I’ll put it this way, seeing him again is inevitable.”
“And you don’t know how to handle it.”
“It’s been a long time,” Mia admitted. “But a lot was left unresolved.”
“Well, I’d never be one to tell somebody what to do, but the one thing I do know, unless you resolve whatever it is that’s eating at you, it will always jump up and get in your way.” She smiled softly. “You’ll work it out.”
Ashley hopped up from her seat. “My bill is in the mail,” she teased, drawing a chuckle from Mia. “The meeting with Verve Boutique is still on for noon.”
“Right. The ones from Tribeca.”
“Yep. They should be here soon.”
Mia nodded. “Buzz me when you’re ready.”
“Sure.” She headed for the door then stopped. “Mia…”
“Yes.”
“As I said, I don’t give advice often, but if I can offer this one piece—just think with your head and not with your heart.” She tossed up her hands. “That’s it.” She grinned and sauntered out.
Ashley was right, Mia thought. She was thinking and projecting based on pure emotion and old memories.
Michael was more than over her by now. She was sure he’d moved on and was probably involved with someone else.
She was getting bent out of shape about nothing. What she needed to concentrate on was finding a way to get the information she needed.
That thought was like a knife to the chest. The idea that Michael could be behind an escort service still stunned her. It seemed impossible. But the reality was that people change. And if that adage was true, then Michael Burke was definitely not the man she remembered.
Think with your head.
That’s exactly what she was going to start doing. She swiveled her chair toward the flat-screen computer monitor that sat on the right-hand side of her desk. She did a quick search of Avante Enterprises. Within moments a list of choices came up on the screen. She chose the link that opened the company Web site.
Michael’s handsome face greeted her and her breath caught in her throat as a flood of memories rushed to the surface. Think with your head. She pushed the images back and started taking notes.
Before she knew it, she’d filled three pages and Ashley was buzzing her about their noon appointment. She shoved the notes in her desk. At least she’d done something concrete, she thought, mildly satisfied with herself.
She closed the file, got up from her desk and went to join the ladies in the conference space.

Felicia and Linda Hall were sisters and the proud owners of Verve. They’d been in business for about a year, but had never had the grand opening that they really wanted. Now, with some experience under their belts and a solid customer base, they thought it was time.
Felicia was the talker of the two, and wasted no time laying out what they wanted: a full weekend with music, entertainment, food and plenty of media coverage, she’d said.
“What kind of budget do you have to work with?” Mia asked.
“Five thousand dollars. Six max,” Felicia answered. “But we’re really hoping you can do it for four.” She flashed a hopeful smile that revealed a tiny gap in her front teeth.
On cue, Ashley and Mia stole a glance at each other. Five would barely cover their expenses, not to mention putting on the event.
Ashley’s look clearly said, It’s your decision, but I like them.
“Why don’t I have Ashley put some ideas together for you and what we think is feasible and we’ll get back to you with a proposal by the end of the week. How’s that?”
The sisters smiled in unison. The gap mirrored on their faces.
Felicia stuck out her hand toward Mia. “Thank you so much.” She shook Mia’s hand, then did the same with Ashley.
“I really hope you’ll consider taking us on,” Linda said, the first time she’d spoken since they’d arrived.
Ashley stood. Her notebook pressed against her small breasts. “By the way, I meant to ask, how did you find out about us?”
“Oh, a friend of ours who helped to get our business up and running,” Felicia offered.
“Michael Burke,” the sisters sang in harmony.
“He recommended you very highly,” Felicia added.
Mia held back a yelp of surprise. Her pulse pounded so loudly that the voices faded into the background. She wasn’t sure if she’d even said goodbye.
The sound of the front door closing snapped her to attention. She was alone in the conference room.
Recommended by Michael Burke. Coincidence or just her luck? Manhattan, for all its pomp and circumstance and worldwide notoriety, was nothing more than an island jam-packed with people and buildings. Sooner or later paths were bound to cross.
So he hadn’t forgotten about her and even thought enough of her to recommend a possible client. She didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing, but it was one thing—the opening that she needed.

Chapter 4
Michael Burke tugged off his suit jacket and tossed it on the back of the couch before heading across the gleaming wood floor of his condo to the minibar on the far side of the living room.
He took out a bottle of brandy and poured a short tumbler full—no ice. It was a habit he’d picked up over the past few years. The years after his divorce, the years after Mia.
He took a long swallow, closed his eyes and let the smooth, warm liquid work its way down and hopefully soothe the constant ache that had found a home in the center of his gut.
Absently, he put the glass on the top of the bar counter and went to the window. Lights flickered in apartment windows and in offices inhabited by the lone employee working overtime to impress the boss.
Michael braced his palm against the frame of the window. The sky suddenly lit up, followed by a loud crack of thunder.
The rain would come soon, Michael thought. On nights like this, when he could get away, he remembered walking through the city with Mia, laughing and hugging as they darted under the eaves of buildings and into doorways, stealing kisses like teenagers.
His jaw clenched reflexively. He had many memories of Mia. But the one that stood out in his mind was the day she walked out of his life.
They’d spent a glorious night together at the Hilton on Avenue of the Americas. His wife, Christine, was visiting her mother in Philadelphia, her childhood home. She’d been gone for a week and was due back the following day. Michael intended to make the most of his last night of freedom.
“I can’t do this,” she’d said. He remembered teasing her about what she’d meant before making love to her, pouring his heart and soul into her.
When he awoke the next morning she was gone. He called and called. He went to her apartment and got no answer. Her neighbors said they hadn’t seen her.
She was working for a small management company at the time, and when he inquired about her, he was informed that she’d taken a leave of absence.
For weeks afterward, he couldn’t sleep, and he barely ate. Every time his phone rang, he knew it would be Mia, but it never was.
Then about three months later a letter came to his office, no return address.
Dear Michael,
I know I took the coward’s way out. But if I didn’t I would have never found the strength to leave you.
No matter what it is that we feel for each other, it was wrong. We were wrong. And if I could do that to another woman, then what kind of woman did that make me?
I hurt. Every day I hurt. But I know in time it will get better. And you will find a way to be the husband Christine deserves.
I wish you all good things, my love, now and always.
Please don’t try to contact me. It’s best for all of us.
Mia
He still had that letter. He’d kept it all these years. Memorized every line. He would recite it to himself whenever the overwhelming urge to call or see her would consume him.
Most ironic, less than a year after Mia walked out of his life, Christine filed for divorce. She’d found someone else.
He supposed it was what he’d deserved, and he’d agreed to the divorce uncontested.
Michael turned away from the window, just as the rain began to fall. He was a free man now, a wealthy man who could have whomever and whatever he wanted. He wanted Mia Turner. And he was going to have her, no matter how long it took or what it took to achieve his goal. He’d honored her wishes not to contact her, until now.
He picked up the remnants of his drink and finished it off. It was just a matter of time, he thought as the golden-brown liquid heated his insides. A matter of time.

“Whew, it’s pouring out there,” Steven muttered, shaking himself off as he crossed the threshold of the apartment that he and Mia shared.
He’d given up his tiny one-bedroom apartment when he and Mia decided that they wanted to be with each other exclusively. That was six months ago, and he hadn’t regretted a day of it.
He’d often envied the stability of Blake and Savannah’s marriage, although he would never admit that to Blake, even though they were best friends. Blake and Savannah were a team and the union had grounded and matured Blake in a way that nothing else had. Savannah and now their new baby were his life. And the business that he and Blake had built from the ground up, which had been his number-one priority, now took second place to his wife and daughter.
Steven had often teased Blake about how square he’d become since his marriage: no more hanging out with the fellas, dating, chasing women, or even talking about them. Steven couldn’t imagine himself with the same woman day in and day out—tied down. The thought often chilled him. Until he met Mia. She turned his world on its ear and he was still pleasantly reeling from the aftershocks. Never in his wildest imaginings did he think he’d be looking forward to coming home to his woman at night.
He shook his head in wonder as he dropped his umbrella in the stand by the door.
Sounds of the evening news drifted from the television set in the living room, mixed with the tantalizing aromas of something distinctly Italian.
Steven grinned. Mia sure knew the way to her man’s heart—knockout sex and a mouthwatering meal.
Mia poked her head out from the archway leading to the kitchen. Her face was scrubbed clean of makeup and her skin seemed to glow. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, revealing the soft angles of her brown sugar-toned face. She greeted him with one of her heart-stopping smiles. God, he loved her.
Steven moved in her direction until he was right next to her. His gray-green eyes moved like a trained masseur’s stroke across her face.
“Hey, baby.” His tone was low and very intimate—just for her.
She slid her right hand around the back of his neck and took the last step that separated them. Her body melded with his like putty, molding itself to the hard lines of his from the broad expanse of his chest to his muscular thighs.
Mia tilted her head slightly upward and brought her mouth to his.
Steven groaned deep in his throat when the softness of her lips connected with his. He maneuvered her so that her back was against the frame of the archway to the kitchen.
The sweetness of her tongue set off a firestorm in his gut. His erection was electrifying and so suddenly powerful that the world receded and an uncontrolled need took its place.
Her long, slender fingers grazed along his body, stoking the growing fire of desire. She reached up and pushed down the fragile spaghetti straps of her thin top and tugged it down, exposing her bare breasts.
Steven nearly hollered. Instead, he feasted on one then the other, as Mia’s short nails dug into his shoulder blades and her whispers of “Yes, yes, yes,” rose in concert with the thunder that boomed in the night.
He dropped to his knees, pulling down her cutoff shorts and pink thong in the process, until he came face-to-face with her hidden treasure. Like a moth to a flame he was drawn to her, taking the tiny pearl between his lips and teasing and stroking it with his tongue until her inner thighs began to tremble and her knees grew weak.
Steven rose, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants in one smooth motion, freeing himself, his phallus hard and pulsing. He lifted her off the floor and she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist and locked her arms around his neck.
She was hot and wet when Steven pushed up inside her and he nearly exploded with that first thrust.
Their coupling was hard and fast, the need between them so intense that fulfillment was the one and only goal.
And when it came, their cries of ecstasy rose above the drumroll of thunder and was more brilliant than the lightning that kept silhouetting the Manhattan skyline.

Mia sat behind the closed doors of her office, reviewing the data that she’d collected on Michael and Avante Enterprises. He was currently the management company for Mercury Entertainment, which groomed and produced new R & B stars. She did a check of the client list and found it to be impressive, to say the least. She recognized more than a few of the names. According to the information that she had, Avante was in the process of planning a major red-carpet event to debut its new artists.
She smiled. She had what she needed. Although Avante oversaw the operations, they subcontracted out all the work.
Mia turned on her shredder and one by one she slid the pages through. Couldn’t be too careful.
All night, even after that incredible erotic romp with Steven, her thoughts continued to drift back to Michael and the job at hand. She knew how weak she could be when it came to Michael. She had maintained her strength by staying away from him all these years. That was about to end.
She knew that she was tempting fate by opening a door that would best be left closed. However, she’d sworn an oath to the Cartel: not only would she uphold the tenets of secrecy, but she would execute her assignments to the best of her ability for the ultimate good of society, without regard to personal interest.
Mia believed in the mission of the Cartel to right wrongs and to protect the welfare of the innocent, as an aid to law enforcement. She took it all very seriously, and she could not allow her personal issues to hamper her ability to get the information that she needed on the escort service.
Besides, she was a big girl. She could handle herself with Michael. Plenty of time, space and other people had passed between them—enough to make what she had to do strictly business.
Strictly business, she counseled herself, as she dialed the offices of Avante Enterprises.
“Good morning. My name is Mia Turner, MT Management. I’d like to speak with Mr. Burke.”
“Please hold.”
Mia squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a breath. She wondered if the receptionist could hear the uncontrollable pounding of her heart that was surely vibrating through the phone.
Another voice, more controlled, less perky came on the line.
“May I help you?”
“Yes. I’m calling to speak with Mr. Burke.”
“Mr. Burke is very busy at the moment. Maybe I can help you.”
She hadn’t realized that Michael had risen to the point of having two screeners for his calls.
“Perhaps if you let him know that it’s Mia Turner…”
There was a moment of deafening silence.
Ms. Control cleared her throat. “He really cannot be disturbed, but I’ll be happy to take a message.”
Mia’s slender neck jerked back. She was about to blurt out, “Say what?” but remembered who she was—a professional.
“Why don’t I do this—I’ll call him on his cell a bit later. Perhaps he won’t be so busy then,” she said, playing the power game. Of course, she didn’t have Michael’s cell-phone number, but this chick didn’t know that. “And who am I speaking with?”
“Brenda Forde. I’m Mr. Burke’s executive assistant.”
I’ll just bet you are. “Thanks so much for your help…Brenda.” She hung up.
Mia sat back and tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth. She could have left a number for him to call her back, but that would have defeated her purpose of pretending to have the upper hand. Besides, she wasn’t quite ready for Michael to have a direct connection to her.
But now that she’d lied and said she’d reach him on his cell phone, she’d have no logical reason to call back.
While she was pondering her next move, Ashley buzzed her on the intercom.
Mia stabbed the flashing red light. “Yes.”
“There’s a Michael Burke on the line for you.”
Mia nearly choked. “Who?” she asked with all the calm she could summon.
“Michael Burke. Could that be the Michael Burke of Avante Enterprises—the one that Felicia and Linda said referred them?”
“I…suppose so.” Her heart was galloping at breakneck speed.
“He’s on line two.”
“Thanks,” she managed. “I’ll take it.”
For several moments she stared at the flashing red light. Would he sound the same? What did he want? How would she respond?
The unanswered questions rushed through her head. Finally she picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Mia…”
The deep bass of his voice rolled through her in waves. For an instant nothing stood between them, but then she remembered what she had to do.
“Michael, how are you?”
“Actually, quite well.”
Silence. Then they both spoke at once.
“You first,” Michael conceded.
“I wanted to thank you for the referral. I must admit I was surprised when they told me it had come from you.”
“Why?”
The one-word question was suffused with a melancholy tone. Although it was asking the obvious, the inflection of his voice was asking her for an answer she couldn’t give.
“I…had no idea…”
“What, that I’ve followed your career?”
He had? “Well…yes.”
“I have. I know all about your business, that you’re doing very well. I have friends who have seen you around the city. They tell me that you’re still beautiful,” he said softly.
She shut her eyes and a Technicolor image of Michael bloomed behind her lids.
“So now that we’ve gotten the formalities out of the way, was that the only reason for your call today?”
Mia cleared her throat and tried to clear her mind, but it was pointless.
“Yes. Why else would I call? I mean, it was very generous of you and I wanted to thank you.”
“I think you know that I’ve always wanted the best for…my clients and myself. And that’s what you are.”
Why couldn’t she get her brain to work and her lips to move? She felt like an idiot. Concentrate.
“I took a look at some of the projects that you’re working on,” she finally said, taking the first step into the land of no return. “And I was wondering if you’d contracted with anyone for the upcoming red-carpet event for Raven, the new R & B artist.”
“I have two outfits that I’m considering, but if you wanted to handle it, I can call them off right now.”
She laughed nervously. “Just like that?”
“Why not? You are the best at what you do?”
She drew in a breath.
“Why don’t we meet and talk about it?”
This was going better than she’d hoped. “Sure, I can come to your office.” She needed to get access in order to plant some listening devices and perhaps a small camera.
“I thought we could discuss it over drinks. I can have a car pick you up at your office about six.”
“Six? Tonight?”
“No time like the present. You do want the assignment, don’t you?”
“I don’t even have a proposal prepared.”
“We can discuss it when we see each other. Six o’clock. A black Lincoln will be out front. I’ve got to go. I have a meeting in a few minutes. I’ll see you later.” He disconnected the call before she could come up with a reason not to.
Slowly, she returned the handset to its cradle. Six o’clock. Absently she glanced up at the clock on the wall. Four hours. She had four hours to prepare to see the man her heart would not let her forget.
There would never be enough time.

Chapter 5
Mia walked to the front of the office. Ashley was just hanging up from a call. She looked at Mia curiously.
“You okay? You look…shaken.”
Mia pressed her lips tightly together, as if the action could somehow hold back the words she needed to say. She pulled up a chair next to Ashley’s desk and slowly sat down.
“Remember the other day I asked you if an old flame had ever come back into your life?”
“Yeah,” she said, drawing out the word into two syllables.
Mia glanced away. “Well, my old love asked me out for drinks.”
Ashley’s finely arched brows rose. “Oh. Okay. Was this your idea or his?”
“His!” she said much too quickly. The guilt already getting to her.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning? Maybe that would help.”
The beginning. Yes, she could do that. Perhaps it was time.
Mia looked directly at Ashley. “I’ve never told this to anyone. No one. Not even Savannah and Danielle,” she said with a new pang of guilt for having kept her two best friends in the dark for so long. She drew in a long breath and as she released it, the illicit love affair spilled out on a rough tide of emotion.
Nearly an hour later, Mia blinked back the past and her gaze rested on Ashley, waiting for condemnation, a look of reprimand. Instead, she saw tears welling up in Ashley’s eyes.
Ashley sniffed and dabbed at the corner of her almond-shaped eyes with the tip of her index finger. “Wow,” she sputtered. “A true-life, tragic love story.” She folded her hands together. “And now he’s single?”
Mia bobbed her head.
Ashley pressed her hands flat on the desktop and leaned forward. “Do you love Steven?”

The question taunted her, tugged at her heart.
Of course she loved Steven, she told herself again as the black Lincoln navigated in and out of midtown Manhattan rush-hour traffic.
That’s what she said to Ashley, who told her simply, “Keep that at the forefront of your thoughts and then when you see Michael everything will fall into place.”
Mia certainly hoped so.

The driver gave her no indication where they were going. He’d only told her that Mr. Burke had arranged for dinner.
Dinner! That wasn’t the agreement, she’d worried. Drinks were impersonal. Dinner was intimate. It raised this meeting to another level.
When she next looked out the window, she realized that they were leaving the city. She grabbed her glasses from her purse and the directional signs came into focus. The driver had taken the exit to the FDR Drive.
She tapped on the Plexiglas partition. The window slowly whirred downward.
“Yes, Ms. Turner?”
“Where are we going?”
“To dinner.”
“You said that already.”
“That’s all I know, Ms. Turner.”
“You must know where you were told to drive,” she pressed, trying to control her rising temper, which was being overshadowed by her rising panic.
The partition whirred back into place, cutting off any further communication.
It was just like Michael to dream up something elaborate. But how in the world would she be able to explain what would certainly be a late night to Steven?
Sighing, she settled back against the plush leather. There wasn’t much that she could do other than wait it out. It’s not as if she could jump out of the car and make a run for it.
She’d deal with Michael when she saw him. She folded her arms and silently fumed, even as part of her bloomed with a macabre sense of excitement.
Forty minutes later, they took the exit to Sag Harbor. Mia jerked up on her seat and peered out the window.
The historic and quaint seaside town was elegantly quiet. The shops that were reminiscent of a postcard ad for weekend getaways were closed. The boats were docked and bobbing gently in the water.
The driver continued through the commercial section of town and drove to the outskirts, where the stately home of the wealthy African-American elite lived.
Finally, the driver turned into a cul-de-sac and pulled onto a gravel driveway.
Mia’s door was pulled open and the driver extended his hand to help her out of the car. She stepped out and reflexively inhaled the heady scent of the sea and brisk night air. The sky had just begun to fill with stars and the half-moon seemed to hang perfectly above a two-story, sprawling white house that overlooked the ocean.
It was breathtaking.
“This way,” the driver said, leading Mia up the path to the front door.
As she took the first of three steps, the door opened. Her gaze rose. Her heart leaped in her chest. She thought she was prepared to see him.
She wasn’t.
Michael descended the stairs like a fantasy hero out of a dream.
Mia couldn’t move, and before she could pull herself together, Michael was taking her hand and saying something to her, but she couldn’t make out the words: they were being drowned out by the pounding of the pulse in her ears and the electricity that was surging through her from his touch.
“I’m glad you came.”
Those four simple words stripped away the past, all the lost years and misgivings, and suddenly she was glad she’d come as well.

Michael could barely contain all that he was feeling inside. When he laid eyes on Mia, those words he spoke were no more than a smoke screen. He didn’t want to make polite conversation. He wanted to take her and make her remember what it felt like to have him inside her, her body wound around his, her soft moans yielding to screams of release. That’s what he wanted to do, but of course he couldn’t. Instead, he apologized.
“Sorry for all the cloak-and-dagger,” he began, guiding her into a foyer the size of her entire condo. “But I knew if I told you where you were going, you would have refused.”
“Still trying to make up my mind for me, I see.”
That had always been a bone of contention between them. Michael wanted what Michael wanted, and he could never fathom why everyone didn’t go along with him all the time.
He turned to face her and laughed lightly. “You’re right. I should have given you the option. But now you’re here.” His chestnut-brown eyes meandered over her, taking in every inch.
He was still a gorgeous man to behold, Mia thought, an older, more mature version of Blair Underwood—a cool combination of boyish charm, dangerous sexuality and a ruthless streak that made for a lethal combination. The tinge of gray at his temples and the tiny flecks in his shadow of a beard only added to the dazzling package.
Michael was eight years her senior, but he was as fit as a man half his age. At forty-five, he had achieved what many only dreamed of and, knowing Michael, he’d only just begun.
Mia forced those thoughts to the back of her mind. He was a prime suspect in an illegal operation and she could not allow the intoxicating scent of his cologne, the glimmer in his eyes or the electricity of his touch to make her forget that.
“Please come in and sit down. I’ve had dinner prepared. But if you’d like that drink first—apple martini, right?” His smile lit up the room.
“You remembered.”
“There isn’t much about you that I’ve forgotten.” His gaze held her.
Mia swallowed. “A drink will be fine, but I really can’t stay for dinner.”
Disappointment creased his eyes. But just as quickly the look was gone. He lightly ran his tongue across his lips and a shiver ran down Mia’s spine.
“I see.” His right brow flicked. “Then let’s have that drink for old time’s sake.”
He walked ahead of her and stepped down into the sunken living room, which was something right out of House Beautiful. The shimmering teal-colored marble floors gave the illusion of walking on Caribbean water. Low contemporary furniture in a mix of fabrics and textures, all in cream and sandy-brown hues, dotted the space. Three-quarters of the room was wrapped in glass. The panoramic view looked out onto cliffs and oceans beyond. One wall encased a fireplace that would be perfect on a winter night, watching the powerful waves crash against the shore.
Mia set her purse on the glass coffee table while Michael fixed drinks. “You have a beautiful place.”
Michael turned to her. “I had it built for you.”
She couldn’t have been more stunned if he’d slapped her. “For me?”
He offered a sad smile. “I’d always told you we’d have a place of our own one day.” He lifted the bottle of vodka and poured some in a silver tumbler, followed by the apple martini mix and crushed ice. “I’m a man of my word.” He capped the tumbler and shook it vigorously. “Got my divorce, too.” His piercing look at her from over his shoulder held her in place.
Mia was speechless. A divorce. A house. It was everything she’d wanted. But it was too late. She was in love with Steven. And she couldn’t let Michael’s powers of persuasion or his unrelenting charm, this fabulous house or the fact that he was a free man dissuade her.
He crossed the room and handed her the drink.
“Thank you.”
He raised his glass. “To old friends.”
Cautiously, she touched her glass to his.
“I wanted to thank you for the referral,” she said, needing to break the invisible hold he had on her.
He shrugged dismissively, walked a few paces and sat opposite her in the armchair that matched the couch, both covered in a butter-soft ecru-colored fabric that was so lush, the cushions so thick and soft, you could sink into it and never get up.
“I’m sure you didn’t need the business. But I thought you’d be perfect for what they wanted.”
“How would you know?”
He offered a slight smile. “As I said before, I’ve followed your career. I’ve even attended some of your events. Incognito, of course.”
That confession shook her. “Why?”
He took a short swallow of his drink, studied the contents for a moment before speaking. “It was my way of staying in your life.”
The answer was delivered so softly, so sincerely that it twisted her heart.
This couldn’t be the man that Jean claimed might be behind an illegal escort service. This was the man she’d once loved. Standing before her was the man she’d prayed he would one day become. There was no way that the two could be one and the same.
“What are you thinking about?”
The gentle nudge of the words drew her back from her thoughts.
“Just that I never thought I’d see you again, especially like this, and that you’ve been following my career.” She shifted her glass from her right hand to her left. “Which events did you attend?” she asked, the beginnings of a smile flickering around her mouth.
Michael chuckled. “The one on the yacht last year.”
A flash of that event ran through her mind, along with the fact that the clients had turned out to be behind an identity theft ring that Danielle uncovered.
“How come I didn’t see you? Why didn’t you say anything?”
There was that shrug again. “I made sure that you didn’t. I can blend in when I need to. Besides, there had to be at least three hundred people there and you were pretty busy.”
“You could have said something.”
“I thought it best not to. The last thing you wrote to me was not to contact you. So I figured the last thing you wanted was for me to show up at one of your events.”
That bit of truth stung. She remembered the letter and the weeks that it took to compose it and finally mail it. She glanced away.
“How have you been, Mia?” he asked gently. “Without me. How have you been?”
What could she say? That she struggled to get him out of her system for nearly five years? That there were still times when she thought of him, remembered how they were together, the emptiness that she felt when she walked out of his life? Of course she couldn’t say that.
“I’ve managed. My business keeps me busy.”
All of a sudden, she looked up and he was standing over her. He took her glass from her hand and put it on the table, then took her hands and pulled her to her feet.
“I’ve missed you. Each and every day I’ve missed you. Everything that I do, dream or plan—you are in my thoughts. I want you back, Mia.”
Her heart thundered. Her entire body was on fire. She could feel his energy wrap around her, draw her in, break down her will. And then his mouth was on hers and she couldn’t move.
His mouth was warm, all-encompassing and incredibly sweet. She remembered those lips, the feel of them against her own. But when his tongue tentatively glided across her lips, then into the recesses of her mouth, she began to shake and he held her—held her firmly against him and she felt his longing, his need press hard and heavy between her thighs.
Her thoughts spun in a million directions at once, then crashed.
She pulled away, turned her head and stumbled back. “I can’t do this.” She shook her head.
He reached for her but she held up her hand to stop him.
“Don’t.”
Michael stepped back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
She dared to look at him. All she saw was longing and sincerity in his expression.
Michael exhaled. “Can we start over?”
She sat down before she fell down and clasped her hands together atop her weak knees to keep them from shaking.
What she wanted to do was run as far as she could. But she couldn’t do that and she couldn’t alienate him. She needed to get inside his business, inside his life. But what was she willing to do to accomplish that?
Mia forced a tight smile. “Sure.”
Michael seemed to sigh in relief. “Great. And to show you I really mean it, I’m gonna sit right here and not move a muscle until you’re ready to go.” He sat down on the lounger, folded his hands, pressed his knees together and plastered a contrite look on his face. The visual effect was hysterical and Mia burst out laughing.
Michael grinned. “That’s how I like to see you, with that pretty smile on your face.”
Mia smothered the rest of her giggles. “Can we talk about business now?”
Michael leaned back, then stretched out on the chaise longue. “Absolutely.” He gave her the Reader’s Digest version of Raven, the star he was hired to debut. She was nineteen for the public, but she was really twenty-two. Great voice, painfully shy, inked a major deal with Atlantic Records and her CD was scheduled to “drop” in two months. All the industry execs were to be invited, the cable stations, media and selected guests.
“Sounds simple enough. So why do I hear a but in there somewhere?”
“Our star doesn’t want to do it.”
“Oh…Why?”
“As I said, she’s incredibly shy. She just wants to make music. So even though the studio wants a blowout event, we…you still need to make it feel intimate, so that our star doesn’t freak out.”
Mia nodded.
“Venue and setting are going to be crucial to make all parties concerned happy.”
“Do you have a date in mind?”
“Three weeks.”
Mia’s eyes widened.
He shrugged. “My hands are tied on that one.” He waited a beat. “You still want to do it?”
“Sure. I’ll make it happen. No problem.”
“Great. I’ll have Brenda put all the information together for you and have it sent to your office.”
She needed to get inside his office. “Hmm. I can pick it up. I’d like to see where you work.”
He grinned. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Tomorrow.”
“A lady who doesn’t waste time.”
“As you said, no time like the present.”
He put his feet on the floor and stood up. “Let me show you the rest of the house.” He extended his hand to help her up.
“How long have you had this place?” she asked as he guided her with a hand at the small of her back to the kitchen.
“I was having it built when we were together. It was going to be my big surprise.”
What! Her stomach did a somersault. He’d never said a word.
Michael turned on the light and the magnificent kitchen was suffused in soft track lighting. Racks of stainless-steel pots hung from the ceiling. And in sharp contrast to the modern feel of the living room, the kitchen was pure country. Glass-paneled French doors led to the back and would undoubtedly provide great lighting. Oak covered the floors and they gleamed. Freestanding hutches and corner cupboards provided plenty of storage space. A huge oak island sat in the center of the enormous kitchen and this is where the modern came in. Somehow, Michael had managed to have a wok, a grill and running water built into the island. A table for four was placed near the French doors and the open-faced cabinetry exhibited a chef’s dream of condiments, pastas and spices. Another extraordinary touch was the restaurant-size refrigerator/freezer and built-in range. The meals she could fix in this space, she thought.
“I had you in mind when I had the kitchen done,” he said softly, stepping up behind her.
She spun toward him, nearly colliding with him he was so close. She took a step back and drew in a sharp breath.
He angled his head to the side. “Maybe you’d like to come up one weekend and try out some of the stuff.”
Mia swallowed over the knot in her throat. She turned away. “What about the rest of the house?” she said instead of responding to his offer.
“This way.” He led her to the connecting room, which was the formal dining room. Then onto a small home theater that sat at least fifteen.
He opened another door. “I work in here whenever I come up for the weekend.”
The room had two computers, shelves of books, a fax, a phone and what appeared to be a scanner.
“How often is that?”
He closed the door. “At least twice a month.”
She made a mental note. “I see you still keep your computers on even when you’re not using them.”
“Old habits, I guess. Back here are the two guest rooms, and baths.” He flung open two doors that were side by side. “This is the master bedroom.” He opened the door.
It was totally Michael. Rich, lush, completely masculine with bold browns and bronzes, a king-size bed and a television that was almost as big. She glanced across the room and was stunned to see a framed photograph of the two of them on the dresser.
She remembered the day they’d taken it. It was the week before Christmas and the first snow had fallen. Michael had gotten tickets to see The Nutcracker at Radio City Music Hall. When they came out, a photographer who was hawking his wares offered to take their picture. She was staring up into his eyes with a bold smile and his look showed total adoration.
“We were happy,” he said gently.
She flinched. It was as if he’d read her mind. “Michael…”
“I know, I know…I’m sorry.” He held up his hands in supplication.
“I probably should be going.”
He nodded. “I’ll get Carl to bring the car around.”
They went back up front. She needed just a few minutes alone. She picked up her purse. “Uh, I’m going to use the restroom.”
“Sure. Straight back, left then right.”
She left him in the living room and found his office. Listening for any footsteps, she quickly went inside, opened her purse and took out a CD. She silently prayed that he was actually logged on so that she wouldn’t be stymied by a password.
She hit the Enter key and the desktop opened. She released a sigh of relief, put in the CD and listened to it whirr while it planted a tracking program onto the hard drive. The CD popped out. She tucked it in her purse, hurried out then headed back up front.
Michael looked up when she entered the room. “Carl is out front. He’ll take you home.” He walked her to the door.
At the door he asked, “Are you sure you want to work on this project? We’ll have to see a lot of each other.”
She looked directly at him. “I’m a big girl, Michael. And this is business. Right?”
He leaned down and gently kissed her cheek. “Get home safely, Mia,” he said, avoiding her question.
She looked at him for a moment before turning away and walking toward the waiting car.
It’s business. I love Steven. It’s business. I love Steven. She repeated that mantra all the way back to the city.

Chapter 6
By the time Mia turned the key in the lock of her front door, it was nearly eleven. She’d wracked her brains trying to come up with some plausible explanation as to where she could have been until now. Nothing sounded remotely legitimate.
When she stepped in, she fully expected Steven to be sitting on the couch waiting for her. He wasn’t.
She walked through the front of the condo to the bedroom in the back. Even in the moonlight she could tell that the room was empty. She switched on the light and looked around.
The bed was still made. Absently, she put her purse down on top of the dresser and walked to the bathroom. Empty. Where was Steven?
She made an about-face, returned to the front of the apartment and went into the kitchen. That’s when she saw the note on the fridge.
She snatched it down and read it.
Hey, babe, decided at the last minute to have a boys’ night out. Hanging with Blake, Nick and Bernard. We’re celebrating one of the guys on the job’s birthday. Tried your cell. Went straight to voice mail. Don’t wait up. Luv ya.
She didn’t know whether to be relieved or pissed off. She took the note and tossed it in the trash. On the one hand, she didn’t have to explain her own late night. On the other, if she’d known that Steven would be late, she might have stayed longer. What did that mean?
She frowned, thinking of the note again…went straight to voice mail. Ohhh, of course. She’d turned her phone off in the event that Steven did call while she was with Michael. That way she wouldn’t have been caught in the uncomfortable position of talking to her current lover while her ex-lover listened to every word.
Well, at least this time she was off the explanation hook.
This time.
Mia retrieved her cell phone from her purse on the hall table and turned it back on. Sure enough, there were three missed calls. She dialed into her voice-mail service and listened.
The first message was from Steven, pretty much saying what the note did. The second call was from Danielle, checking in with her, and the third was from Ashley.
“I hope everything went okay. If you want to talk tomorrow, I’m here.”
She hit the delete code and pressed the phone to her chest.
Did it go okay? The minute she saw Michael, she’d lost control of her senses. She’d let him kiss her and she’d kissed him back. And what about her feelings when she realized that Steven wasn’t home and that if she had known he was going to be late she would have stayed longer?
Mia walked into the bedroom. Did all that equal okay? She caught a glimpse of herself in the oval mirror above the dresser. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear she could see Scarlet Woman plastered across her forehead. At the very least Guilty.
She stepped out of her shoes and put them in the rack in the closet.
She’d betrayed Steven. She’d betrayed their relationship. She massaged her temples. How could she have been so weak?
The sensation of that kiss snuck up on her and a sudden heat suffused her body.
Vigorously she shook her head. It was the first and the last time, she vowed. She had a job to do. Michael Burke was an assignment, and that was it. She was in love with Steven. And she could not allow herself to forget that ever again. No matter what.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/donna-hill/temptation-and-lies/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.