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Tender Loving Passion: Temptation and Lies
Donna Hill
Two classic TLC novels from Essence bestselling author DONNA HILLThe women who sell Tender Loving Care body products are hiding a secret: they are undercover operatives in The Ladies Cartel–the flip-side organization of TLC Cosmetics. They have sworn an oath to never reveal their clandestine activities, so not even their closest family and friends know about their covert lives….TEMPTATION AND LIES As CEO of an event-planning company, no one would ever guess that sultry siren Nia Turner is also an undercover agent for TLC. Living a double life can be stressful, especially when Nia begins dating sexy architect Steven Long. As their desire blossoms and their relationship grows, will the web of lies and scandal Nia becomes tangled in tear them apart forever?LONGING AND LIES With her sensual looks and free-spirited ways, Ashley Temple is the perfect agent for TLC. But when she poses as part of a happily married couple along with FBI operative Elliot Morgan for her latest assignment, the stakes are sky-high. Ashley knows she's in deeper than she's ever been before…. How can she let Elliott go once he's taken their passion beyond the point of no return?


Two classic TLC novels from Essence bestselling author DONNA HILL
The women who sell Tender Loving Care body products are hiding a secret: they are undercover operatives in The Ladies Cartel—the flip-side organization of TLC Cosmetics. They have sworn an oath to never reveal their clandestine activities, so not even their closest family and friends know about their covert lives….
TEMPTATION AND LIES
As CEO of an event-planning company, no one would ever guess that sultry siren Nia Turner is also an undercover agent for TLC. Living a double life can be stressful, especially when Nia begins dating sexy architect Steven Long. As their desire blossoms and their relationship grows, will the web of lies and scandal Nia becomes tangled in tear them apart forever?
LONGING AND LIES
With her sensual looks and free-spirited ways, Ashley Temple is the perfect agent for TLC. But when she poses as part of a happily married couple along with FBI operative Elliot Morgan for her latest assignment, the stakes are sky-high. Ashley knows she’s in deeper than she’s ever been before…. How can she let Elliott go once he’s taken their passion beyond the point of no return?
Tender Loving Passion
Temptation and Lies
Longing and Lies
Donna Hill


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Temptation and Lies (#u859452c4-f875-56ac-981c-42c211e33893)
Longing and Lies (#litres_trial_promo)
To all my readers old and new. I thank you for the continued love and support. Enjoy the ride!
Temptation and Lies
Contents
Chapter 1 (#ua09aa428-91e3-5758-8ec5-1aa8a9bdf0f0)
Chapter 2 (#u073ee98e-d4e3-505f-8b3b-ee3e11dc5c39)
Chapter 3 (#u29dd1f50-7ad4-53e9-a5ba-c905fdd92894)
Chapter 4 (#u33f1a80d-3e17-5ca9-ab1a-1b33ce038e3e)
Chapter 5 (#u368e0337-40de-5f9b-ab86-d1b99b32451e)
Chapter 6 (#u06832075-a5de-53fe-a5b2-6c546a89f5dd)
Chapter 7 (#u854a8f31-fe54-57bd-9baf-a9d23c22295a)
Chapter 8 (#u9bcff609-896f-5df1-b652-bebbc4605e7b)
Chapter 9 (#uae8c403c-6927-5870-914c-192a467cd3ff)
Chapter 10 (#udc01c0ae-0713-5fde-a35b-2772f2d58747)
Chapter 11 (#uf98015d8-a8a4-58de-9715-c0cc551234ef)
Chapter 12 (#u2d6a5c7e-5626-5370-af7b-4ff1197df056)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)
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-shape 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.
With that determination at the forefront of her mind, she went to the closet, took out the shoe boxes and opened the panel where she kept her kit. Quickly she removed it.
Meticulously inventorying the contents, she removed the eye-shadow case, the pressed-powder compact and a tube of mascara. She would need all these items when she met Michael at his office. The eye shadow concealed a minirecording disk that could stick to any surface. The compact doubled as a camera, and the mascara was actually a memory stick that she would use to download files from his computer—if the opportunity presented itself. She put all these items in her tote bag.
Before Steven came home, she wanted to sync her PDA with Michael’s computer. Although he didn’t go to the Sag Harbor house often, he did mention that he used that computer for work. It was worth a shot.
Mia turned on her PDA and scrolled to the Find Me program that would allow her to look inside Michael’s computer, see his files and actually open them remotely. She keyed in the access code and after several moments the screen read that she was connected.
Her heart thumped in concert with the opening of the front door. Her head jerked up from the information in front of her.
“Mia!”
She took a quick look around to be sure she hadn’t left anything out, then turned the PDA off and dropped it in her tote. She darted into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
“Hey, babe,” he called out over the rush of water. “Sorry I’m so late.”
Mia peeled off her clothes, tossed them in a pile on the floor and ducked into the shower.
The bathroom door inched open and Steven stuck his head in. “Hey, sweetie, mind some company?”
Mia pulled the shower curtain partially back and smiled in greeting. “Love some.”
* * *
Later that night, as Mia lay curled in Steven’s embrace and their racing hearts had settled, she thought with alarm that it was the very first time that Steven had not satisfied her.
Chapter 7
Mia was totally distracted at work the following day and as hard as she tried she couldn’t concentrate on the monthly financial report. The numbers seemed to jump all over the page just to torment her.
Frustrated, she pushed the pages aside and stared blankly at the screen saver on her computer. She glanced up at the clock above her office door.
Still two hours before she was due to be at Michael’s office. Maybe she’d get lucky and not have to see him. But that, of course, would defeat the whole purpose of her going. She needed access to his office, his phone and his computer.
But what troubled her most was what had happened—or had not happened—last night between her and Steven. Not to mention this morning. She and Steven always had sex in the morning, and at the very least a stimulating touching and kissing session as they prepared for their day, leading to heightened anticipation at night.
But this morning she wasn’t in her usual playful, teasing mood, and although Steven had given her several long, lingering kisses, he didn’t pursue anything further.
Had he realized that she hadn’t climaxed last night? Did it bother him? Did he care? And then an awful thought leaped into her mind. Was he seeing someone else?
The sharp knock on her door jerked some sense into her. It was her own guilty conscience, she knew, that had her conjuring up dalliances about Steven. She shook her head.
“Come in.”
Ashley stepped through the doorway. “I worked out a preliminary plan for the boutique. If you want to take a look at it, I put it in New Projects on the shared drive.”
“Thanks.” She forced a smile but couldn’t look Ashley in the eye. She’d done everything short of taking in dirty laundry from a stranger to keep herself busy so that Ashley wouldn’t ask her about last night. For the better part of the morning, she’d been able to avoid her. Until now.
“I’ll, um, look at it, but I’m sure it’s fine.” She studied the first line of a memo she held in front of her as if it could block out reality and what she was certain was Ashley’s inquiring gaze.
“Look, I want you to know that it’s okay to talk to me and it’s okay to look at me. If you don’t want to discuss last night or our conversation yesterday—ever—it’s fine. Seriously.” She took a step closer. “I won’t judge you. I thought I was your friend. And I value the confidence you put in me.” She drew in a breath and stood straighter. “That’s my spiel for today.”
“I’m meeting him at his office today,” she blurted out and looked up at Ashley with something akin to fear in her eyes.
“Why?” she softly asked.
Mia curled her fingers into fists on her desk. “I have to.” She struggled with the words, the burning in her stomach.
Ashley frowned in confusion. “You. Mia Turner never had to do anything, especially something that she is obviously having an issue with.” She tentatively sat down, reached across the desk and put all the phone lines on hold. She turned to Mia. “If you want to talk, I’m listening. And there is no one to disturb us.” She waited.
Dozens of thoughts raced through Mia’s mind. Last night, seeing Michael again, the kiss, the sex with Steven, her guilt, her assignment, the Cartel, her oath. They all ran together until her head began to pound and panic seized her. Her life and emotions were suddenly out of control and she didn’t know how to handle it.
Finally, she released her clenched fists, raised her gaze and focused on Ashley. There were obviously things she could not disclose, which would make her having to see Michael difficult to explain. She cleared her throat.
“I’m going to tell you some things. Some are not going to make any sense because of the things that I can’t tell you. Understand?”
Ashley blinked in confusion. “Not really, but go ahead. I’ll piece it together.”
“Well, you already know about me and Michael’s past...”
Ashley nodded.
“Last night he didn’t take me for drinks. He had his driver take me to his home on Sag Harbor, the home he said he’d had built for me and him.”
Ashley sucked in a breath of surprise, but didn’t interrupt.
Mia swallowed. “He kissed me. And I didn’t stop him.”
From there the rest of the story poured out: how she felt, her confusion, even what happened between her and Steven, her guilt.
She rubbed her forehead as if the action could rub away the thoughts and images that tramped through her brain.
“Wow,” Ashley murmured after Mia had finished. “And I guess the reason why you have to go see him is the part you can’t tell me.”
Mia nodded.
“Why not let me go with you?”
“I wish I could but I can’t. All I can say is that it’s bigger than me and you and I promised that I would do this.”
Ashley blew out a breath. “I respect that. But can I offer some advice?”
“I could use some.”
“Be clear about the why. Be sure that you’re doing this because you have no choice and not because you subconsciously want to rekindle your relationship. Because if you do, you owe it to Steven to be honest with him about your feelings.”
How could she explain that it was a combination of both? A part of her felt duty-bound and another part wanted to see what life would be like again with Michael. In addition to which, she wanted to prove that he couldn’t be capable of the things he was suspected of. And she hoped that her own misgivings would not cloud her judgment.
Ashley pushed up from her seat. “If you change your mind, I’m free all afternoon,” she said with a soft smile. She turned to leave.
“Wait!”
Ashley turned back around.
Mia stood. “If I take you with me, you have to promise not to ask any questions, no matter what happens.”
“Gee, Mia, you sound like some kind of spy or something.”
Mia snatched up her purse and tote bag. She looked Ashley in her eyes. “Or something.” She headed for the door, leaving Ashley pinned in place by her declaration. “Coming?”
Ashley hurried behind her boss and wondered what she’d gotten herself into.
Chapter 8
“No point in circling the block again,” Mia groused, looking above and below car tops and along the tightly packed street as she inched down 56th Street. Michael’s office on Madison Avenue was in the heart of Manhattan. But parking on Madison was out of the question. “It’s mostly either No Parking Anytime or For Commercial Traffic Only.”
“There’s a garage about a block down on your right,” Ashley pointed out.
Mia signaled then eased into the right lane in front of a yellow cab and zipped across the intersection before the light changed. The Quick-Park parking garage was franchised throughout the city. Their trademark black-and-gold signs were like beacons of salvation for harried drivers.
Throughout the thirty-minute drive, Ashley had refrained from asking questions, basically making small talk or keeping quiet, which totally went against her grain. This entire scenario had Ashley deeply concerned about Mia. Mia had said there were things she couldn’t tell her, and heaven only knew what that meant. She just hoped that whatever Mia had gotten herself involved in was not going to get her hurt, and she didn’t mean physically.
During the months that she’d spent working with Mia, she’d come to admire and respect her. Mia was forthright, professional, loyal to her friends and able to charm the most difficult clients. She ran her business with precision, and she conducted her life with the same kind of order and attention to detail—all without breaking a sweat. Which was why it was so unsettling to see her like this—totally distracted, edgy and, for lack of a better word, scared. Those were words Ashley would have never associated with Mia, and Ashley vowed to stick by her side and see things through.
* * *
Mia unsnapped her seat belt, pulled down the overhead mirror and reapplied her lipstick, which she’d pretty much chewed off during the trip.
For an instant she froze. The look in her eyes that was reflected back at her was one of uncertainty and confusion. And she knew that it had more to do with her twisted feelings for Michael than her ability to do her job. Yet both were intricately intertwined, and she couldn’t see one without the other. But she had to.
She felt Ashley staring at her and turned. “I may need your help.”
Ashley’s honey-brown eyes widened ever so slightly. “Sure. Whatever you need.”
Mia offered a tight-lipped smile, flipped the mirror back in place, grabbed her purse and tote and hopped out.
The attendant handed her a ticket and asked how long she would be.
“No more than an hour.” She turned and walked up the ramp and out onto the busy street.
Michael’s offices were on the five-hundred block of Madison Avenue, surrounded by the headquarters of all the major banks both domestic and foreign and the leading financial institutions, Schwab, Deutsche Bank. His office was at 554-11 Madison on the twenty-second floor.
The duo pushed through the glass-and-chrome revolving doors. They were stopped at the security check-in desk, and asked to produce identification and sign a logbook.
Ever since 9/11, all the major New York City office buildings had instituted this procedure. Mia often wondered what possible good it would do and what kind of deterrent it was for someone who really wanted to do harm. There was no way to prove that anyone’s ID was legitimate.
Her friend Danielle’s last Cartel case was a perfect example of what people could do with ID. Dani’s identity theft case even added an additional element of finding famous look-alikes who were used to gain access to parties, offices and homes with the purpose of stealing unsuspecting victims’ identities. The successful outcome was all in the news, with no mention of Danielle or the Cartel, of course.
No matter how careful you were and no matter how many safeguards were put in place, someone, somewhere, was working to breach your defenses. The Ladies Cartel was a testament to that truth. Besides, she reasoned, if someone intended to get in and blow up a building, the logbook would be destroyed in the process. It was all quite arcane and silly in Mia’s mind, but if it offered some sense of security, she supposed it was useful.
Mia and Ashley walked side by side to the second bank of elevators after signing in.
Mia watched the dial of the elevator as the lights did a countdown. “I may need you to keep his executive assistant—and possibly Michael—busy,” she said without looking at Ashley.
“Sure. No problem. Busy I can do.”
The elevator doors slid open and deposited a half dozen people into the lobby. Mia and Ashley were the only two to get on.
“If I say I want to use the restroom, I’m going to need you to keep everyone occupied. At least for five minutes. If we get to sit in Michael’s office, I’m going to need you to get him out of it.”
“How?”
“We’ll think of something.”
The bell dinged and the doors slid open.
“This would be so much more fun if you told me what you couldn’t tell me,” Ashley said under her breath.
Mia tossed her a look and stepped off the elevator. The directional signs indicated that the Avante Enterprises offices were to the right. They turned toward a set of glass doors.
A receptionist looked up at their approach. “May I help you?” Her perky voice came through the intercom embedded in the wall. Mia recognized it from the phone call. She stepped closer to the intercom.
“Mia Turner. I have an appointment with Mr. Burke.”
The door buzzed, along with the sound of the lock disengaging. Mia grabbed the large chrome handle and pushed the door open.
“If you will have a seat, I’ll let Mr. Burke know you’re here.”
“Thank you,” Mia murmured and took a seat with Ashley right next to her.
“Nice digs,” Ashley said.
“Hmm.” Interesting, she thought, as she took in the décor of the reception area. The colors were in sharp contrast to the house on the harbor. Here black dominated, with gray and burgundy accents. The colors and coordinating décor spoke power, style and control. All nouns easily associated with Michael Burke.
Moments later, a woman of about thirty with a cap of silky black curls outlining a perfectly made-up face approached them. Mia instinctively knew this was Ms. Executive Assistant.
The woman’s chocolate chip–pinstriped suit jacket hugged her narrow waist, fanned out ever so slightly to caress her hips, and the above-the-knee-length skirt showcased the legs of a dancer—long, lean, perfectly formed and strong. She seemed to instinctively know one from the other and extended her hand to Mia.
“Ms. Turner. I’m Brenda Forde. I believe we’ve met via phone.” She directed intense honey-colored eyes at Mia, all the more disconcerting because of their lightness against her flawlessly brown skin and the fierceness that hovered in them.
Real or contacts, Mia wondered in a comedic moment.
“Yes. We have met, haven’t we? Always good to put a face with a voice.” She released the butter-soft hand and turned to Ashley. “This is my executive assistant and business manager, Ashley Temple.”
Ashley extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Brenda gave a short nod of her head. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll get you settled in the small conference room. Michael...Mr. Burke is on a business call. As soon as he’s done, he’ll join us.”
There goes that us again, Mia thought. She smiled and followed Brenda down the short hallway and was led to a room with, unfortunately, a glass door and walls.
“Please make yourselves comfortable. Would you like something to drink while you wait?”
“Some water for me,” Mia said.
“Water is fine,” Ashley added.
“I’ll be right back.” She picked up a remote from the table and pointed it at a television mounted onto the wall. The CNN studio filled the screen. “Michael likes CNN,” Brenda said with a smile that held a challenge.
“I remember,” Mia tossed back, unable to help herself and secretly delighted in seeing Ms. Executive Assistant flinch before she walked out.
“Meow, meow,” Ashley sang. “At least let me know when to duck out of the way of the claws. What was that about?”
Mia quickly gave her the rundown of her earlier conversation with Brenda.
“You think they’re seeing each other?”
Mia gave a slight shrug. “If not, she certainly wants to. Not that it’s any of my business,” she added quickly.
Ashley bit back a smile.
Mia reluctantly pulled her glasses out of her purse. She took a good look around the room. The conference table took up most of the space, surrounded by eleven chairs, five on each side and one at the head. Two computer stations braced one wall. With her growing knowledge of electronics and technology, she noted that there were microphones built into the table, which let her know that conversations here were recorded. The wall panel that controlled the television also controlled the screen that could be lowered from the ceiling. She was pretty sure it included teleconferencing, which would account for the video camera in the back of the room.
Her instincts told her this room was used for meetings much more sensitive than who would be the next R & B star, which gave her even more reason to want to tap it. What solidified her resolve was the camera that she’d spotted hidden between the panels on the wall. It was no bigger than a quarter and to those who were none the wiser it looked like an imperfection in the wall. A hidden camera would certainly limit what she could get away with in this room. The ideal situation would be to find Avante’s control room.
Mia glanced toward the door. Brenda and Michael were coming in. Mia couldn’t miss the adoring look that Brenda gave Michael as he held the door open for her. Mia took off her glasses and returned them to her purse.
Ashley stole a look in Mia’s direction as the doors swung open.
“Mia.” Michael came right to her, braced her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Had to bring backup, huh,” he teased, whispering in her ear. He stepped back and looked her in the eye, as if she was the only person in the room.
Mia swallowed over the tightness in her throat. The intoxicating scent of him momentarily clouded her thoughts. “Michael, my executive assistant, Ashley Temple.”
“My pleasure, Ms. Temple,” he said, finally focusing on something other than Mia. He shook Ashley’s hand, then turned back to Mia. “Would you prefer to talk here or over lunch?”
“Here is fine. Ashley has prepared a PowerPoint presentation for our proposal. Then we can have lunch. If that works for you.” She smiled sweetly.
“Not a problem.”
Ashley took the printed copies out of the leather folder she carried, along with the CD of the presentation. She handed out the literature.
Mia’s heart pounded. She hoped that Michael would allow them to use the computer to run the program and not just the projector.
“All this technology is not my thing,” Michael admitted. “That’s Brenda’s area of expertise.” He tossed his hands up in the air in a gesture of exasperation.
“Is your computer linked to the video screen?” Mia asked.
“Of course. I’ll get you set up.” Brenda went to one of the computers and turned it on. She lowered the lights then depressed a button on the wall panel and the screen descended. “You can load your CD.”
Ashley went to the computer and inserted the CD.
Mia’s heart was pounding. If there was one glitch in the program that she’d embedded on the CD, they were toast. After Ashley had completed the PowerPoint proposal, Mia had volunteered to put it on the CD. Later that evening, Mia wrote a code—with the help of Jasmine at Cartel headquarters—that would track the activities of the computer and was activated when the PowerPoint was shown.
What it gave Mia the opportunity to do was look inside the computer files in addition to mirroring every keystroke.
The screen filled with MT Management’s logo and its tagline, “Your dream event is our reality.”
For about ten seconds the screen froze then flickered. Mia held her breath. Jasmine had warned her about this and advised her not to panic. She’d been meticulous about entering the code. She’d gone over it three times to be sure she’d typed in the correct HTML string.
The first screen finally opened and Mia exhaled as Ashley’s voice gave the text and images verbal support.
While everyone was engrossed in the presentation, Mia felt around inside her tote bag, which she held on her lap beneath the table, and unzipped her “go bag”—her little carryall that held some of her tools of the trade. It looked like a makeup pouch. She felt around for the recording disk that looked like an eye-shadow pot. She had to unscrew the cap and lift the disk out. It was no bigger than a dime and nearly slipped from her fingers. One side was sticky and would adhere to any surface, virtually inconspicuous. She pressed the sticky side underneath the table, felt it to be sure it was secure then dropped the circular pot back into her go bag.
Ashley had about three more minutes. Mia began to breathe a little easier.
“I’m impressed,” Michael said when the screen went blank.
Brenda turned on the lights.
“How soon can you get started?”
“Michael—” Brenda cut in.
He held up his hand.
Mia and Ashley glanced at each other.
“As soon as you’re ready,” Mia answered.
“That’s what I like to hear.” He stood. “Let’s seal the deal over lunch.”
Mia tossed a triumphant grin in Brenda’s direction. Triumphant in more ways than one.
As they walked out, Mia hesitated. “I need to use the restroom.”
“I’ll take you,” Brenda offered.
“That’s fine. Just tell me where it is. I’m sure I can find it myself.”
“I’d love to see the rest of your space,” Ashley chimed in, hearing her cue.
“Sure,” Michael agreed. “Mia, we’ll meet you up front.”
“Down the hall, make two lefts,” Brenda reluctantly instructed Mia.
“Thanks. I won’t be a minute.” She walked in the general direction of the restroom. She decided it would be pointless to try to get in the control room, but Michael’s office was a different story.
She hurried down the hall, passing a few employees along the way, who didn’t pay much attention to her. She glanced at the nameplates on the doors. The offices were set up like a maze: short hallways that led to different departments, quick turns and dead ends. She felt as if she should have left bread crumbs so she could find her way back.
Finally, she found Michael’s office after following a sign for administration. She hoped that it wasn’t locked. She tried the knob and the door opened. Taking a quick look left then right, she stepped inside and shut the door behind her.
Mia was pretty certain that if Michael were involved in anything, the last place he would have microphones and cameras would be in his office.
The rectangular office screamed masculine. Brown leather furnishings, vertical floor-to-ceiling blinds in a bronze color that gave the room a warm glow. An antique oval rug covered the center of the wood floor. His desk was pure Michael—rich and dark. His mantra screen saver crawled across the monitor: “I’m dreaming of great things and doing them.”
She went directly to his desk. The first thing she did was insert a recording device into his phone, then she took a CD out of her bag and put it in the computer. After it loaded, she hit the Enter key and the disk whirred then exited.
Mia checked her watch. She’d been gone a little more than five minutes. Hopefully, Ashley was running her mouth and asking a zillion questions. She took one last look around, went to the door and cracked it open. The hallway was empty. She stepped out and shut the door behind her.
Briskly she walked down the hallway, turned right and ran smack into Brenda.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Mia sputtered. She pressed her hand to her chest.
Brenda stared at her. “This isn’t the way to the ladies’ room.”
Mia smiled and shook her head. “I got totally turned around. I should have taken you up on your offer.”
“It’s this way,” she said with quiet deliberation. She extended her hand in the opposite direction.
Mia clutched her purse tighter in her hand and secured her tote on her shoulder. “Thanks.” She followed Brenda to the door with the image of a woman emblazoned on the front. Mia pushed the door open.
“I’ll wait for you so you don’t get lost again.”
“’Preciate that.” Mia stepped inside and nearly collapsed against the door. Another minute and Brenda would have seen her coming out of Michael’s office.
She walked to the sink, turned on the cold water and looked at her reflection. “This is only the beginning,” she said to the reflection, “so get it together.”
Mia ran her wrists under the cold tap water to slow down her racing heart and lower the heat in her body that was making her light-headed. She dried her hands then took her lipstick from her purse and touched up her mouth.
* * *
Brenda was leaning against the wall when Mia stepped out.
“All done!” she said with a cheery smile.
Brenda stepped up to her, so close that Mia noticed she was wearing individual false eyelashes and a couple of them had come out.
“I don’t know what your deal is,” Brenda said with chilly calm. “But stay away from Michael.” With that she spun away on her two-inch heels before Mia could digest the veiled threat and deliver a comeback.
Stirred but not shaken, Mia followed the scent of Brenda’s perfume and joined the trio at the receptionist’s desk.
Brenda Forde was going to be a problem.
Chapter 9
“You’ve been pretty quiet today,” Blake Fields said to Steven as they reviewed the blueprints for a co-op they were helping to develop. “Everything cool?”
In Steven’s circle of friends, Blake was at the center. They’d been tight since college. Steven was Blake’s best man when he married Savannah and was godfather to their daughter Mikayla. They’d shared a great deal through the years, the good and the bad, and they never lied to each other, no matter how much the truth might sting. That was the cornerstone of their friendship. If there was anyone that he could talk to about what may be going on with Mia, it was Blake. It helped, too, that Blake’s wife was Mia’s best friend.
Steven put down his drafting pencil and looked across the table to Blake, who was rerolling the blueprints that needed to be stored.
Blake turned from the pigeonhole where the blueprints were kept and focused on Steven. His brows drew together in concern. “I’m listening.”
Steven linked his fingers together while his tumbling thoughts settled down. “It’s about Mia.”
The frown line deepened. “Is she okay? She’s not ill...pregnant?”
Steven released a short chuckle. “Naw, none of the above.”
“Oh, cool. So what is it?”
“Man, I don’t even know where to start or if I’m making something out of nothing.”
“Start at the spot that’s buggin’ you the most.”
He ran his tongue across his lips and blew out a breath, leaning slightly forward. “Me and Mia have this bangin’ sex life, no pun intended. Anyway, lately she hasn’t been there, ya know what I mean?”
Blake nodded.
“I know my woman. I know her body and I know when she’s faking.”
Blake’s eyes widened.
“She acts like she’s into it but I can tell she’s not. And last night...” His voice drifted off. He wasn’t sure that he was ready to tell his buddy that he couldn’t satisfy his woman.
“Have you talked to her?”
“I’d feel like an idiot. It’s probably just in my head.”
“If it’s in your head, it got there for a reason.”
Steven was silent for a moment, trying to pinpoint the date and source of his unease. “I guess it started about two weeks ago. She’s been distracted and kinda secretive. I mean, I’ve walked in on her a couple of times and she shuts the computer off or abruptly ends a call. And she’s been evasive when I ask what she was working on. Then the whole sex thing.” He looked away.
Blake was quiet for a moment. He’d been in Steven’s shoes, or at least his wife, Savannah, had been in Steven’s shoes. Tristan Montgomery—a client—had decided that she wanted Blake as an addendum to their business contract, and she made life very difficult for him, to a point that he seriously considered ending the contract, returning the money and moving on. The tension played havoc with his marriage and Tristan’s tireless come-ons could wear down the best of men. But he couldn’t imagine that someone was hovering in the background of Steven and Mia’s relationship. Unfortunately, however, anything was possible even in the best relationship.
“Look, man,” Blake said, straddling a chair and bracing his forearms along the top. “You know the mess I went through with Tristan. The only thing that saved me and Savannah was talking. Once I let Savannah know what was really going on, it removed her doubts, it gave me strength and then as a team we dealt with it together.”
“I guess the thing that shakes me the most is that it’s always been me who was holding all the cards, the one who raised the questions, the one who got to walk away.”
“Hey, hold on. That’s taking it to the extreme, don’t you think?”
“I know, I know, I’m just saying...I feel out of my element. I’ve never let a woman get this close to me. And move in with a woman!” He snorted. “I took a big chance with Mia. If she messes over me...” He shook his head.
“We all thought we were playas until the right woman came along. Even you couldn’t outplay me until Savannah came along,” he teased.
That drew an appreciative chuckle from Steven. “So whatcha sayin’? I’m your wingman?”
“And a damn good one, too,” Blake said, laughter rumbling over his words. “Bottom line, my brother, you have to admit that your playa card had been pulled. And the sooner you accept that and give in to what you feel for her, all that other macho BS about being in control and in charge won’t mean jack. But you gotta talk to her. Tell her how you feel, what’s been on your mind.”
The waning afternoon light played on Steven’s eyes, turning them a darker shade of grayish green.
“Yeah, guess I’m gonna have to. This just isn’t my thing, spilling my guts.”
Blake gave a crooked smile. “You’ll get used to it.”
“Do me a favor.”
“Sure.”
“See if you can pick Savannah’s brain. Maybe Mia might have said something to her.”
“I’ll try. But haven’t you heard of the girlfriend oath?”
Steven frowned. “The girlfriend oath?”
“Yeah, no boys allowed.”
* * *
When Steven arrived home, he had every intention of talking with Mia, as Blake had suggested. But the truth was, talking about insecurities and being vulnerable to a woman didn’t sit well with him.
He lived by the example set by his father. A man was a man. Men didn’t cry, show fear or give in to their emotions. You never let a woman get beyond those defenses, no matter how much you loved them. If a woman could get to you in that way, then your enemies could get to you through her.
His father, Frank Long, had been a street hustler since his early teens and carried the mantra of the street deep in his soul. Although Steven knew that his father loved his mother, there were never open displays of affection or words of love tossed freely around. Frank showed his love through things. They had a stunning home on Sugar Hill in Harlem. His mother had more jewelry than she would ever wear, and he and his brother and sister never wanted for anything.
It was his mother, Grace, who provided the affection, some softness in their lives, but his father’s lessons and the way he lived his life were heavily ingrained in Steven.
He knew he felt deeply for Mia, more than any woman he’d been with. She anchored him and he didn’t want to be with anyone else—this was a first for him. Having more than one woman at a time had been a way of life for him. It kept him from becoming too involved, caring too much. Steven Long was a playa to his heart, but as Blake had clearly pointed out, Mia had pulled his card.
Did that mean he was in love? Or in deep like? It must be something, he thought as he tugged off his tie en route to the bedroom. He’d given up his bachelor pad and moved in with Mia. That had to mean something, which made how Mia had been acting all the more unnerving for him.
He flicked on the bedroom light, took off his jacket and tossed it on the lounge chair near the window. He pulled the curtain back and gazed out at the street below.
Twilight was settling over the city. That in-between time of day and night when your eyes played tricks on you and things weren’t quite as they seemed.
Just as he was about to turn away, he saw Mia’s Lexus pull up in front of the building. He waited for her to exit. He loved to see her walk. When she didn’t get out, he grew curious. He peered a bit closer and the outline of her body was defined by the streetlights. She had her head down on the steering wheel. And several times she hit the wheel with her palm.
Finally, she sat up, flipped down the mirror and checked her appearance. Then sat for a couple of minutes more before she gathered her things and got out. He watched her approach the building; the usual bounce and sway in her step was missing. Mia usually walked as if she was ready to take over the world—head held high, long smooth strides, determination etched on her face. But tonight her body language shouted defeat.
He turned away from the window once he saw her enter the building. Something must have happened at the office or with a client or with one of her friends. Mia never got rattled, so it had to be something major. Whatever it was, they’d deal with it. He heard her key in the door and went up front to meet her.
She came in and when she glanced up and saw him standing there, a smile to light up Broadway bloomed across her mouth.
“Hey,” she greeted him. She pranced over to him and kissed him softly and briefly on the lips. “How was your day?”
“Fine,” he murmured, totally confused by the woman he’d seen outside only moments ago who was obviously upset and the woman standing in front of him who acted as if the world was hers for the taking.
She brushed his cheek with her fingertip and moved past him. “Hungry?” she called out over her shoulder.
“No. I’m good. Late lunch.” He followed her into the bedroom. “So how was your day? Anything exciting happen?”
“Not really.” She gave him the benefit of a quick look before sitting on the side of the bed to take off her shoes.
Whatever was on her mind, she apparently didn’t want to share it with him. He turned abruptly and headed back to the living room.
* * *
Moments later Mia heard the sound of the evening news coming from the living-room television.
Briefly she let down her guard and the weight of her day consumed her. The tension she dealt with at Michael’s office while she planted the devices, followed by a two-hour lunch with him, Brenda and Ashley, all came closing in on her at once. They’d been seated in a booth for four and Michael took the liberty of sitting next to Mia.
Although lunch was very businesslike and aboveboard, she couldn’t mistake the intermittent bump of thighs beneath the table or the brush of fingertips as they reached for the same item.
She could barely concentrate on the conversation going on around her and then as they left Michael was right behind her and whispered, “I want to make love to you, and I will.”
The words were as much a promise as a threat. Michael Burke never said he would do anything without fully intending to do it.
When she and Ashley returned to their office, Mia was unusually subdued, but that didn’t stop Ashley from voicing her opinion.
“I can see why you and a hundred other women would be attracted to Michael Burke,” she said, taking a seat opposite Mia’s desk without being asked. “And I also see that he still cares about you. But the only thing that really concerns me is that I see the same thing in you for him.”
Mia’s eyes flashed in Ashley’s direction. She started to debate the point, but it was useless. She did have feelings for Michael. What they were she wasn’t sure, but they were there just beneath the surface. She covered her face then finally found the courage to look at Ashley.
“I don’t know what to do,” she finally said.
“Look, I can take over this account so you won’t have to deal with him.”
“If I could have you do that, I would in a heartbeat.”
“This is the part you can’t talk about.” It was more of a statement than a question.
Mia nodded.
“Then I’m fresh out of suggestions.” She pushed up from the seat. “But whatever I can do to help, let me know.”
“Thanks.”
* * *
“Is something bothering you?”
Mia’s head snapped up. She turned toward the doorway. Steven was standing there.
“Just a little tired, I guess. Kinda busy day at work. Nothing that a hot bath and a good night’s sleep won’t cure.”
“You sure that’s it?”
“Yes. Why?”
He rocked his jaw a minute. He started to tell her that he’d seen her in the car and had been standing in the doorway while she sat motionless and totally unaware of him. But he didn’t want to hear her lie to him anymore.
“Nothing. Just asking. Look, I’m going to run out for a while.”
“Oh.” Mia focused on him as if seeing him for the first time. “Out?”
“Yes. Out. I’ll see you later.” Without further explanation he turned and walked away.
Mia sat there for a moment, too drained to react. It was probably best that Steven did go out for a while, she reasoned. She needed some time to push away Michael’s words, wash away the heat of his breath on the back of her neck, the touch of his hand at the small of her back and the look in his eyes that said, I’m coming for you.
Her cell phone chirped. She dug it out of her tote and immediately recognized the number.
“Hello, Jean.”
“I’m calling to remind you that I’m going to need an update from you by the end of the week.”
“Of course.”
“How much progress have you made?”
“I’ve made contact and I’ve established an opportunity to get inside the company.”
“Excellent. I knew you would be the perfect one for this assignment. I’ll expect a complete update.” She clicked off without so much as a goodbye.
However, as much as Mia didn’t want to admit it, Jean’s call was just the kick start that she needed. With Steven out of the house, it was the perfect time to check and sync all the devices. If she got really lucky, she might hear something worthwhile.
Chapter 10
Steven got in his BMW and headed off with no particular destination in mind. Driving usually cleared his head, especially when he was working on a difficult design problem. He usually didn’t take evening drives to get his head right regarding relationships. If he drove somewhere, it was either home or away for good.
This was different. But everything about his and Mia’s relationship was different. He was treading in brand-new territory and he had no idea where the land mines were.
He took the exit to the West Side Highway and headed south toward the Chelsea Piers.
The area had been totally revitalized over the past few years with bike and roller-skating lanes, benches and trees. The set for Law & Order was inside the pier as well, just off 23rd Street.
He slowed, pulled into one of the parking areas and got out. If there was one thing that could always be counted on in New York, it was that there was guaranteed to be people out doing something no matter the time, day or the weather. Truly, the city that never sleeps.
Steven set the alarm on his car and began to stroll along the docks. Anchored crafts bobbed in the water and the masts of the massive, once-military vessels, jutted toward the darkened skies.
A young couple Rollerblading streaked past him, followed by several joggers. A stiff fall breeze blew in from the water. He drew up the collar of his jacket around his neck. Lights ahead drew his attention and he walked toward them.
On one of the commercial strips was a small restaurant and bar located next to a bowling alley that was also still open for business. He decided to go into the restaurant.
“Good evening,” said a young woman dressed in black. “Will you be having dinner or would you prefer to sit at the bar?”
“The bar is fine. Thanks.”
“Up the stairs to the left. Enjoy your evening.”
Steven walked toward the bar and found an empty seat in the middle of the horseshoe-shape counter.
“What can I get for you this evening?”
Steven glanced up.
“Steven? Steven Long?”
He focused on the attractive face and tried to place her. “I’m sorry...” he said helplessly.
“Michelle Dennis. You used to date my friend, Renee McDonald.”
Recognition popped in his eyes. “Wow.” He shook his head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. Spaced out for a minute. How are you?”
“I’m great. Doing a little moonlighting,” she said with a smile, giving an expansive look around.
“You were modeling, if I remember correctly.”
She laughed a sweet sound. “That, too. In my real life I work at the post office. So how have you been? I think the last time I saw you was about two years ago.”
“I’ve been doing well. Business is booming. Can’t complain.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“How’s Renee?”
“Renee is married and working on her second baby.”
Steven let out a burst of surprised laughter. “You’re kidding. Renee?”
“Yep.” She bobbed her head.
“’Scuse me, can I get a little service down here?” a man called out from the other end of the bar.
Michelle made a face. “Sorry. Be right back.”
Steven took a brief look around. For the middle of the week, the place was fairly crowded with a combination of the straggling after-work patrons and the locals stopping in.
It had been a while since he’d been out alone at a bar. Since he and Mia had gotten together, he’d shut down that part of his life. Funny how a bar was the first place he’d ventured to. He supposed old habits die hard.
Michelle returned. “So what brings you out?” she continued as if they’d never been interrupted.
He shrugged slightly. “Needed some air.”
She leaned forward, exposing ample cleavage that Steven could hardly ignore.
She lowered her voice. “Unfortunately, if you’re going to sit here, you have to order something. If you don’t, my boss will kill me.”
“Sure. No problem. I’ll take a Coors.”
“Coming right up.” She turned and bent into the fridge to retrieve the bottle, giving Steven a good solid look from the back. She turned and set the bottle down in front of him, along with a glass and a napkin. “Out for some air, huh?”
He looked at her. When he and Renee had been together he’d seen Michelle several times. She’d always been with a guy, so he hadn’t paid much attention to her. Now he did. She was a good-looking woman. Not necessarily a showstopper, but there was something appealing and sexy in her open expression, engaging smile and inviting eyes.
She wore her hair natural in short spirals that took years off her age—middle to late thirties—and her skin looked soft and supple to the touch, with a body that you wouldn’t toss out of bed.
“Something like that,” he finally said, responding to her question. He took a swallow of the icy-cold beer. “How many nights do you work here?”
“Just two and every other weekend. Helps keep the bills at bay.” Her gaze drifted over him. “I get off at ten.” She turned and walked a few paces away to serve a customer. She tossed Steven a last look.
Steven looked up the overhead clock above the bar. Ten. He could keep himself occupied until then. Maybe a diversion was just the thing he needed to get his head right. He sipped his beer and relaxed to the music.
* * *
Mia had her laptop open on the bed. She’d connected it to her PDA and logged in using the TLC access codes. Within minutes a string of programs opened. She keyed in the necessary information and soon she was inside Michael’s office computer.
She did a cursory search of his files and didn’t find anything that struck her as out of place, which could mean that there was nothing for her to find or that she would have to open each and every file.
However, after considering her options she thought that if Michael was involved in the escort business, he would minimize any trail from his office. More than likely anything incriminating would be on his home computer or gathered from her phone taps. But if he was using company funds to pay people, there might be something in these files.
She took a second look at a folder labeled Accounts and opened it. At least one hundred files filled the screen. She groaned and began looking at them. The majority of them were businesses, many of which she was familiar with, at least by name. Others were for individuals. As she took one last look, a file marked Log caught her attention. She clicked on the file and a message opened requesting a password. Her heart thumped.
Password. During her training, Jasmine, the head IT person at TLC, had been very clear about passwords. If you weren’t certain that you knew it like your own name, do not try to access the information. If the file is somehow encrypted, then whoever did it would know if attempts had been made to hack into the file. In cases like that, Jasmine was to be contacted.
Maybe it was nothing, Mia tried to convince herself as she stared at the flashing request for a password. She was probably jumping the gun. Most likely this file was no more than an employee list, or his personal banking information.
What if it wasn’t? Was she trying to blow it off because she really believed it was nothing or because she wanted to believe it was nothing?
Reluctantly, she picked up her cell phone and dialed TLC headquarters. An automated service answered.
“Welcome to Tender Loving Care beauty products for today’s woman. Please enter your ID number now.”
Mia pressed in her ID.
“Thank you. If you know your party’s extension, please dial it now. To order supplies, press 1; to schedule training, press 2; technical support, press 3. If this is an emergency, please enter your emergency code.”
Mia pressed “3.”
“Jasmine speaking.”
“Hey, Jazz. I have something that I need you to look at. It’s encrypted and needs a password.”
Jasmine laughed. “Piece of cake. Send me the file.”
“Actually I can’t. I’m in the subject’s computer remotely.”
“Go head, girl! Okay. I’m going to take over your computer. Give me your IP address.”
Mia did as instructed and seconds later she watched her cursor move around the screen, open and close files and type in strings of code. For an instant the screen went black. When it came back on, Mia was looking at some sort of client list with payment schedules and amounts. All the names were women.
Mia began to feel ill.
“I’m going to take a screenshot of this and e-mail it to you, close the file and then I’ll release your computer back to you,” Jasmine was saying through the cell phone’s speaker. “Got everything you need?”
“Yes, thanks,” she said absently.
“Well, good night.”
“Night.” Mia disconnected the call.
Moments later her computer beeped, indicating a new arrival. She clicked on her in-box and saw the e-mail from Jasmine. She forwarded the e-mail to her office account. She’d print it out there.
Little by little she shut everything down, trying to put a positive spin on what she’d seen.
After putting everything away, she realized how late it had gotten. It was nearing midnight and Steven had yet to return. The fact that he wasn’t home was bad enough, but what was more damning was that she hadn’t noticed until now.
* * *
Steven waited for Michelle to finish her shift. Good sense dictated that he should simply get up and leave. But old habits kicked in and he hung around. He needed some positive reinforcement and his gut instinct told him that Michelle would be more than willing to do just that.
“Finally,” she breathed, coming up to the table where he’d been relaxing for the past hour.
Steven glanced up from his drink. He pushed up from the seat. “I know it’s late, but have you eaten?”
“I’m starved.”
“Come on. There’s a great place about three blocks from here. If we hurry we can catch the kitchen before it closes.”
“Lead the way.”
They walked out into the brisk evening air.
“Getting cold,” Michelle said, pulling her short jacket tighter around her. She slipped her arm through the crook of Steven’s and moved closer to him.
“We can take my car if you want.”
“No. The air will do me good. I’ve been cooped up in there for four hours.” She walked next to him quietly for about a block. “So tell me what’s been going on with you.”
A half smile moved across his mouth. “Business has been great. We’ve expanded some of our developments out to D.C.—”
“That’s not what I mean,” she said, cutting him off.
He glanced at her.
“I could run an Internet search on you if I wanted to know about your business life.”
He chuckled.
“Men don’t usually come into a bar alone unless they’re looking to meet someone or they have something heavy on their minds. What’s your story?”
“Is this the counseling bartender talking?” he teased, avoiding the question.
“No. Just someone who’s interested in knowing why a brother like you is out alone at a bar in the middle of the week.”
“Maybe I needed a change of scenery.”
Michelle stopped walking. Steven stopped short and faced her.
“What?”
Michelle glanced downward then looked him in the eyes. “I want to be honest with you and I hope you’ll be honest with me. I like you. I always did, from back when you were dating Renee. But I would never move on my friend’s man.” She drew in a long breath. “But Renee is married. I’m not seeing anyone and you’re out alone.”
When he looked at her and took in what she was saying, what she was offering, he had a sudden, sick sensation of guilt. What the hell was he doing? He wasn’t that guy anymore. He wasn’t on the prowl. He didn’t want to retreat to the days when he called all women “sweetheart” because he didn’t care or couldn’t remember their name.
Had this been a year ago, he probably would have taken Michelle up on her offer.
“Look. It’s only dinner with an old acquaintance. Nothing more. If I gave you that impression then I’m sorry.”
She pressed her lips together and smiled. “Now that we’re on the same page, let’s go before the kitchen closes.”
Chapter 11
Mia wasn’t sure if she should pretend to be asleep when she heard the key in the door or if she should let him know that she was up and was concerned about where he’d been. She peeked at the digital clock. It was nearly 2:00 a.m.
The bedroom door opened. Steven moved quietly around the room, taking off his clothes before going into the master bathroom.
Moments later, Mia heard the shower water running. She stared up at the ceiling. She tried to regulate her breathing and slow down the beating of her heart. This was a new place that she and Steven had entered. Since they’d been together, they’d never been out for most of the night separately. They’d never walked out on each other with friction hovering between them.
She knew part of it was her fault—the secret she was carrying around with her about her conflicting feelings about Michael, and her TLC assignment. She had to get a handle on it before things got worse between them.
The bathroom door opened. For a moment, Steven stood in the lighted doorway before turning off the light.
Mia felt the side of the bed sink from his weight and the covers shift as he got in beside her.
Steven turned on his side and draped his arm across her waist. He kissed her ear. “I know you’re not sleeping,” he said softly. “Can we talk?”
“Okay,” she said softly, while trying to keep her own guilty thoughts from giving her away.
“Something almost happened tonight.”
Her heart slammed in her chest. Then Steven was silent for so long she began to believe that her punishment for her own indiscretions was to never know what Steven had “almost” done.
“Look,” he finally said. “This whole baring my soul thing is not me. It never has been. But what happened tonight—that can’t go on between us.”
She was too afraid to move, to breathe.
“I walked out of here tonight because I didn’t want you to lie to me anymore.”
Oh, God, she was going to faint.
“Are you seeing someone else?”
Her relief burst from her lips. “No! Of course not.” She turned on her side to face him. “I wouldn’t do that. Never.”
From the dim light of the moon sliding in between the blinds, she saw the worry in those incredible eyes, felt it in the rapid beat of his heart and heard it in between the words he did not say; he loved her and was afraid he was losing her. What could she say to prove him wrong when she felt deep in her soul that he might be right—losing her to memories, possibility and unanswered questions.
What she wanted from Steven, she suddenly realized, was more than great sex, nice things and a guaranteed date on Saturday night. She wanted a man who was willing to give every ounce of himself to her, who wanted her so much that he was willing to build a house for her even if they weren’t together. She wanted someone to say the words I love you, Mia without the prompts, without it only coming as an echo of her own words.
“When things get so that they’re not working for you, you need to tell me,” Steven was saying, drawing her back and away from her cascading thoughts.
“I can’t imagine that happening.” But fear and doubt knotted her stomach. She cuddled closer. He tenderly kissed the top of her head. “You want to tell me what almost happened?” she tentatively asked.
“It didn’t. That’s what’s important. Didn’t come close, only the suggestion—if I’d been willing.”
Mia listened intently for words between the lines and beneath the surface. She found none. Only the simple truth.
Mia gently draped her leg over his. Their toes touched and played. She smiled inside.
Steven pressed his lips against the sensitive spot between the space of her neck and her collarbone. She trembled. He ran his hand down and along the curve of her body’s right side, covering each inch like the brush of a master painter.
Mia spontaneously arched her body into his. The pulse of his growing erection pressed between the juncture of her thighs. She moaned softly as he brushed his thumb across her nipple before cupping her breast in his palm and caressing it. Her body became infused with heat.
Steven eased her onto her back. He stared down into her eyes. He looked as if he was on the verge of saying something. Instead he kissed her long, deep and slow. And she gave in to the kiss, the feel of his hands on her body, the weight of him pinning her beneath him.
Mia closed her eyes, wrapped her arms and legs around Steven and let the sensations take over her mind, body and soul.
* * *
The following morning after Steven left for work, Mia set up the tools of her trade and spent the next hour watching the computer screen for activity and listening to the phone taps for something worthwhile.
Just as she was about to pack up and head to the office, Michael received a call on his Sag Harbor phone.
She sat up straighter.
“Hi, it’s Michelle. I need some extra hours. Slot me in for any upcoming openings. Thanks.”
Mia frowned. What did that mean? Was Michelle one of the alleged women in the service or nothing more sinister than an employee who needed some O/T or the cleaning lady?
She looked at the incoming call for the number. It read like a cell phone. She made a note to give it to Jasmine to see if she could get a last name and maybe an address.
Mia checked the time. It was nearly ten. She needed to stop by the cleaners on her way to work and drop off a few things. She had a conference call at noon.
She put everything away, shut off the computer and stashed her PDA and cell in her tote, along with her go bag. She collected the clothes that she’d tossed on the side chair in the bedroom. She added the two pairs of slacks and a dress shirt that Steven had hung on the back of the bathroom door.
One last look around to ensure that she hadn’t left any telltale signs of her clandestine activity and she hurried out.
* * *
“Good morning, Ms. Carol,” Mia greeted her.
Carol Bennett was the matriarch of the Bennett Dry Cleaning family. Mia had been bringing her clothes to them for years. And although there was a more modern cleaner closer to her condo, she preferred the personal touch, and it gave her a sense of pride to support a black-owned business.
“Mia, how are you, sweetheart?” Carol slipped on the glasses held around her neck by a beaded chain.
“I’m fine, Ms. Carol. How is the family?”
“The children—” she shrugged “—they wish they had a different business to inherit. But it’s like I tell them all the time—baby doctors, morticians and cleaners will always have business.”
Mia chuckled. “You are so right.”
Carol held up each garment and jotted them down on the slip. “Okay, one ladies’ suit, two blouses, two dress shirts and two slacks. When do you need them back?” She peered at Mia from above the top of her glasses.
“Hmm. Tomorrow? Can I pick them up around six?”
“Sure.”
“Great. Thanks. I gotta run. Have a good day.” She picked up her purse from the counter.
“You, too, dear.” She gathered the clothes up into a bundle with the intention of putting them in the basket when some change fell out of one of the pockets.
Mia stopped. “I’m sorry. I should have checked the pockets.”
Carol picked up the change from the floor. “A whole sixty-two cents,” she said with a smile. “Not enough to retire on, so you keep it.”
Mia grinned. “Thanks.”
Carol went through each item to check the pockets. “This is yours, too.” She gave her a business card.
Mia took it and stuck it into her tote.
“That’s it,” Carol concluded.
“Good. If anything else turns up, just leave it with the clothes. Bye!” She hurried out. Hopefully, she wouldn’t get caught in traffic. She probably should have left home sooner, but she’d let her quest for answers—or vindication—consume her morning.
Once behind the wheel of her car, she dug her cell phone out of her tote and gave the voice command to call Ashley.
“Hey, Ashley,” she said through the speakerphone. “I’m running behind schedule. Hopefully, I should be there in about forty minutes.”
“No problem. I have everything covered.”
“Any calls?”
“Just one.” Ashley paused. “Michael Burke. He plans to stop by later.”
Mia’s brakes squealed as she nearly rear-ended the driver in front of her. She had about ten seconds to pull herself together before the cars behind her demanded her head on a platter for holding them up.
“Thanks,” she managed, easing her foot off the brake and onto the gas. “Did he say what time?”
“I told him we had an early-afternoon appointment. He said it would be around 2:30. He had some information on the event that he wanted to deliver personally.”
Mia’s heart skipped a beat. “Okay. I’ll see you soon.” She pressed the speakerphone button and disconnected the call.
What could he have to bring that he hadn’t turned over already? Ideally, she wanted to limit her face time with Michael to the bare minimum. Obviously, he had other ideas.
Chapter 12
Michael strolled into his suite of offices, feeling better than he’d felt in months. Since connecting with Mia again, his life seemed to take on a new purpose. He wanted more than the next big contract, a fatter bank account, more houses and more cars than he could live in or drive.
When Mia had left him, he had fallen apart, piece by piece, with the final straw being his divorce. He’d fallen into an abyss of not caring, of only wanting women in his life whom he could control. He drew a macabre pleasure out of getting them to do what he wanted when he wanted. But after five years, he’d grown even more restless. Nothing satisfied him. Not women, clients or money. And then the opportunity to get back in Mia’s life presented itself and the dark world into which he’d descended suddenly grew brighter. He walked down the hallway toward his office.
“Good morning, Michael,” Brenda greeted him, as she stepped out of her office into the corridor.
“Morning.”
She quickly looked right then left. “I thought you were going to call me last night,” she said in a hard whisper.
“Not now, Brenda.”
She flashed him a tight look, her mouth turning into a single line. “Then when?”

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