“So a spouse is included in your future plans?” Reo asked her. Letter to Reader Title Page Dedication About the Author Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Epilogue Copyright

“So a spouse is included in your future plans?” Reo asked her.

“Of course.” Rusty frowned. “Isn’t one included in yours?”

“Actually, no.”

“Are you serious?”

“I don’t have time for that kind of commitment. I’ve got a business to run.”

“Oh.” She appeared stunned. “But don’t you want children?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

Rusty stared at him as though he were some kind of alien. “I love kids myself. I’m going to marry a wonderful man and have at least four.”

“Four!” Reo nearly choked. “You’re talking years of childbearing, Rusty. I assume you’ve already scheduled your Mr. Right for an imminent walk down the aisle. Otherwise you are going to run out of time.”

“Thanks for the reality check,” Rusty said snappishly, indicating that there was no Mr. Right in sight. But her attitude made one thing clear: she would be a challenge to any man.

And Reo liked challenges....

Dear Reader,

Silhouette Romance is celebrating the month of valentines with six very special love stones—and three brand-new miniseries you don’t want to miss. On Baby Patrol, our BUNDLE OF JOY selection, by bestselling author Sharon De Vita, is book one of her wonderful series, LULLABIES AND LOVE, about a legendary cradle that brings love to three brothers who are officers of the law.

In Granted: Big Sky Groom, Carol Grace begins her sparkling new series, BEST-KEPT WISHES, in which three high school friends’ prom-night wishes are finally about to be granted. Author Julianna Morris tells the delightful story of a handsome doctor whose life is turned topsy-turvy when he becomes the guardian of his orphaned niece in Dr. Dad. And in Cathleen Galitz’s spirited tole, 100% Pure Cowboy, a woman returns home from a mother-daughter bonding trip with the husband of her dreams.

Next is Corporate Groom, which starts Linda Varna’s terrific new miniseries, THREE WEDDINGS AND A FAMILY, about long-lost relatives who find a family. And finally, in With This Child..., Sally Carleen tells the compelling story of a woman whose baby was switched at birth—and the single father who will do anything to keep his child.

I hope you enjoy all six of Silhouette Romance’s love stories this month. And next month, in March, be sure to look for The Princess Bride by bestselling author Diana Palmer, which launches Silhouette Romance’s new monthly promotional ministries, VIRGIN BRIDES.

Regards, Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

Corporate Groom
Linda Varner

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to Jean Price,

the best of agents and a treasured friend.

LINDA VARNER confesses she is a hopeless romantic. Nothing is more thrilling, she believes, than the battle of wits between a man and a woman who are meant for each other but just don’t know it yet! Linda enjoys writing romance fiction and considers herself very lucky to have been both a RITA finalist and a third-place winner in the National Readers’ Choice Awards in 1993.

A full-time federal employee, Linda lives in Arkansas with her husband and their two children. She loves to hear from readers. Write to her at 813 Oak St., Suite 10A-277, Conway, AR 72032.

Chapter One

“Hold that elevator!”

Reo Sampson registered with shock the gossamer attire of the red-haired woman scurrying around the corner, calling out to him. He quickly stuffed into his pocket the ID badge he’d just found on the parking deck of his building, then threw out a hand and caught the doors that had been about to close.

So what if he was running a bit late today? No man could resist an elevator ride with an angel—assuming, of course, that’s what this woman was supposed to be. The white ankle-length gown that swirled about her with every movement could just as easily costume a fairy, now that he thought about it.

The angel-fairy rewarded Reo’s quick action with a smile of thanks so dazzling he wished for his sunglasses. He noted that the color of her long, curly hair exactly matched the coat of an Irish setter who’d once owned him, and for one brief second he was a lonely tenyear-old again with only a dog for a best friend.

“Thanks... a... million,” she said, panting even as she stopped and turned her back on him, beckoning to someone still out of sight. “Hurry, kids. Quick as bunnies.”

Kids? Reo watched in horror as two...four...six...oh, God, ten preschoolers dressed for Mardi Gras immediately filed around the corner and into view. The woman, who looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties, herded them into the elevator, while Reo instinctively flattened himself against one wall of the too-tiny enclosure.

Suddenly they were everywhere, those kids—giggling, whispering, staring as if he were the one in a costume. Reo dragged his gaze from the motley group to the angel-fairy who led them. She met his look unblinking, her emerald eyes glowing with what could only be amusement. So she thought this was funny, huh? Well, Reo didn’t and coolly redirected his gaze to the doors, which slid shut with an ominous thump. At once the elevator began to ascend. Since the woman didn’t punch a destination button, he could only assume hers was the same as his: the twenty-third and topmost floor.

Interesting. There was nothing on that floor but Reo’s own suite of offices and a large conference room.

“Miz Rusty?” A miniature soldier, who sported camouflage war paint and gear, tugged at the angel-fairy’s exotic attire.

The appropriately named Rusty looked down to give the young warrior her full attention. “Yes, Preston?”

“Can we stop on the way and visit my dad?”

- “I’m afraid not.” Her hair swung when she shook her head. “He’s working, you know.”

“How about my mommy?” chimed a pint-size princess with big blue eyes and a glitter-encrusted tiara.

“Oh, she is, too, Amy,” Rusty assured her. “All your moms and dads are. Sampson Enterprises is a very busy place. We’re lucky that the man who owns it is going to let us borrow his conference room for a little while for your Mardi Gras party.”

So that’s it, Reo thought. Miz Rusty was no angel or fairy, but one of the workers in the new day care located in the basement of his building. Reo had heard nothing but good about the place since it opened four months ago. According to Angie, his personal assistant and mother of a precocious three-year-old, the children who spent their days there enjoyed a wide range of special celebrations, one of which must be this Mardi Gras party.

Instantly regretting the whim that had prompted him to give in to Angie’s pleading and loan out the conference room, Reo imagined how it would look once these rug rats finished with it. The plush beige carpet would never be the same, not to mention the walls and drapes. He closed his eyes and pictured cherry punch spills and chocolate handprints.... It would cost a fortune to have the room cleaned and fumigated.

“It was kind of you to let us share your ride. The elevators have been a nightmare today. I think this one is the only one working.”

With a start, Reo realized she talked to him. He felt his face heat. “Er, some kind of electrical glitch, I expect.” One definitely deserving of a quick chat with Maintenance...if he could squeeze it in between retrieving the new tuxedo he’d purchased yesterday, then forgotten to take home, and this afternoon’s golf game, which he hoped would lead to another sound financial investment.

The redhead nodded and Reo found himself wondering if Miz meant Miss, Ms. or Mrs. The sapphire on her third finger, left hand did not solve the mystery since it was mounted on a wide gold band.

“Miz Rusty?” This time it was a sibling of Casper the Friendly Ghost who clamored for the woman’s attention. Clearly these children adored their teacher, who appeared to be patience personified, wrapped in a package sexy as hell.

“Yes, Holly?” She straightened the child’s costume so that the eyeholes helped instead of hindered her pint-size view.

“Are we almost there? This tickles my tummy.”

Miz Rusty laughed. “Mine, too, and, yes, we’re almost there.” She glanced at the indicator light. “Only seventeen more floors to go.”

Thank God, Reo thought, though he had to admit that as children went, this group seemed fairly well behaved. He suspected that Miz Rusty could be thanked for that.

“Only twelve more floors....”

Her voice was easy on the ears—surprisingly deep, a little husky. Seductive with a capital S. Reo marveled that such could belong to a woman with freckles dusting her nose. Sexy getup or no, she had a definite tomboy look about her that said she would probably be more at home on a softball field than in his bed.

In his bed?

Reo nearly choked when he realized the inappropriate direction his thoughts had taken. Highly disconcerted, he made a show of pushing his wire-rimmed glasses back up on his nose and straightening the collar of his tasteful paisley golf shirt.

“Just seven more now....”

Her voice also had a pleasant lilt that suggested laughter, Reo realized. He discovered that he actually liked that hint of mischief, that promise of “never a dull moment.” How odd. As a rule he preferred predictability in a woman—predictability, independence and intelligence.

“Four, and we’re there,” Miz Rusty announced just as the elevator slammed to a sudden halt and total darkness engulfed them.

The jolt threw Reo forward, but luckily not off his feet. He suspected that some of the children weren’t so fortunate. The air instantly resounded with cries and screams of terror, and the elevator rocked in response to frantic scrambling. Reo guessed that Miz Rusty must be surrounded by her panicked charges. Her next words proved it.

“Don’t be frightened,” she as good as yelled. “Everything’s going to be OK.”

As if by magic, the auxiliary power kicked in, bathing the enclosure in a dim, reddish glow that did little to soothe Reo’s own ruffled composure. Quickly he assessed the damage and saw exactly what he expected: Miz Rusty surrounded by ten clinging youngsters. He reached out and punched the Alarm button, rewarded for his efforts by the sound of a bell ringing loudly somewhere in the bowels of his building.

“See there?” Miz Rusty murmured as she alternately patted, hugged and cajoled each one of them into giving her breathing space. “Everyone knows we’re stuck now. I’ll bet that this ol’ elevator will be moving again in just a second, don’t you?” When not one child agreed, she glanced over to Reo, who watched her in silence. “Tell them that this happens all the time,” she ordered, words that took a second to soak in.

“Oh, uh, sure. All the time,” he then blurted, silently adding, somewhere in Shreveport. To his knowledge, today was the first day there had ever been problems with the elevators in his building. He wondered fleetingly if their nonstop flight from the fourth floor had been a clue that all was not well with them today, since that was a first, too. Obviously everyone else in this busy building knew there was an elevator problem today and had utilized the stairs.

“And we’ll be moving again in no time, won’t we?”

“No time at all,” Reo agreed, though he wasn’t so sure.

“See?” Miz Rusty studied the sea of upturned faces that surrounded her and frowned. “Goodness, you’re a gloomy bunch. May I see some smiles?” She waited a second, then tried again. “Preston...gimmee a big grin. Come on now, you can do it...there! Now don’t you feel better? Lauren, you’re next. Big smile...yes!”

One by one she talked them into smiling until Reo suddenly found himself addressed.

“Now it’s your turn.”

“Me?”

“You. I want a great big smile on your face, too, just like this one.” She demonstrated, revealing dimples that were a sweet surprise.

Reo could only stare, speechless.

With a huff of impatience, Miz Rusty reached out and, placing the tips of her forefingers at the corners of his mouth, attempted to help him smile.

Reo, his knees downright wobbly, grudgingly cooperated.

“Thanks,” Miz Rusty said, for the first time looking as if she might be a bit ruffled by their situation, too. But there was only a second’s awkward silence before she turned to her charges and spoke again. “Why don’t we play a game while we wait to get moving? Would you like that?”

Most of her mesmerized companions nodded. Reo noted that a smile or two seemed genuine now.

“How about I Spy? Do you like that game?”

More nods. More real smiles.

“OK. I’ll go first.” Miz Rusty, who was surely an angel, after all, made a production out of looking all around the elevator. Then she said, “I spy something blue, purple and green, all swirled together.”

In spite of himself, Reo could not resist searching the costumes of the children for those three colors “swirled.” He didn’t find them, but did realize that aside from the soldier, the princess and the ghost, he hadn’t a clue as to what these children were dressed up to be. The brunette named Lauren looked as if she’d just stepped out of a harem—an odd choice of costume for a preschooler in his opinion—while one helmeted boy resembled some sort of spaceman or something.

Clearly, Reo was out of touch with the younger set, but he knew that already—from spending most of yesterday on the telephone trying to talk a top clothing designer and her manufacturer husband into joining Sampson Enterprises. There was money to be made in children’s wear. He wanted a very large piece of that lucrative pie.

“Daruelle’s skirt?” guessed a curly headed moppet with sequins on her dress and rhinestones on her earlobes.

Miz Rusty shook her head and smiled. “No, there’s no green in it.”

“Chris’s helmet?”

“No purple or blue in that.”

“Katy’s skirt?”

Miz Rusty laughed and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “No blue or green in that. Look again. You can’t miss it.”

Reo winced in response to a sudden shrill squeal of discovery. At once the harem girl rushed forward and grabbed a handful of his designer shirt. “I found it! I found it!” she exclaimed as she yanked.

In a heartbeat, Miz Rusty stood so close that Reo could smell her perfume. A wave of intense wanting washed over him as she gently disentangled chubby fingers from the fabric.

“You’re right, Lauren. You win!” Smiling an apology, Miz Rusty smoothed his shirt by patting it flat against his chest from collar to belt. “Sorry,” she mumbled, before turning her back on him and hustling Lauren back to the others, a matter of three steps.

Reo thanked his lucky stars that she hadn’t felt the pounding of his heart through the material. As it was, she could certainly see the pulse dancing in his neck if she so much as glanced his way again. Fortunately, she didn’t.

He looked at his watch. How long had they been suspended in time? Ten minutes? Fifteen? It felt like forever, and not because of these harmless kids. No, it was the strain of resisting their sexy keeper, a woman Reo knew instinctively could bring him to his quaking knees.

“Who wants to be next?”

“Let him,” replied the child named Danielle, pointing to Reo.

“Yeah,” agreed Preston, the soldier.

At once all eyes were on Reo. He felt sweat pop out on his forehead and wished for a cigarette, an amazing development considering he didn’t smoke. But on second thought, maybe it was natural. He did feel a lot like a prisoner facing a very observant firing squad. He could only pray the pleats in his khaki pants would hide his current state of semiarousal for that firing squad’s captivating captain.

“Would you like to play, Mr. um—” Miz Rusty reached out and grasped the clip of the lost-and-found ID badge, protruding from the pocket into which Reo had thoughtlessly tucked it earlier “—Brad Turner of the mail room?” She clipped the badge to his collar with a take-no-piisoners smile.

As disconcerted by Miz Rusty’s proximity as he was insulted by the mistake, Reo didn’t bother to correct her. Instead, he just shook his head. He’d never played I Spy as a child. Why should he risk it now when his wits had apparently failed him?

“Please?”

The whispered entreaty gave him goose bumps. Well hell. “OK. All right.”

Disgruntled, Reo took his sweet time picking out what he spied. Finally he came to a decision.

“I spy something...red.”

Immediately he was bombarded by guesses—someone’s shirt, someone else’s vest, shoes or hat. Each time, Reo shook his head in the negative and instructed them to “guess again.” He took great comfort in the fact that none of his peers or employees were around to see him acting the fool for this woman. They respected him. He didn’t want that to change.

“I know! I know!” It was Princess Amy, hopping from one foot to the other in the glee of discovery. “Miz Rusty’s hair!”

“Right!” Unable to resist, Reo stepped forward and reached over the children’s heads to tug on a long lock of Miz Rusty’s hair, which was as silky soft as he’d imagined. She blushed—a response that flattered her and sent his pulse to triple digits—then slapped his hand away. “Good for you. Now who wants to be next...?”

Instead of the chorus of me’s Reo expected, there was silence that loudly proclaimed impatience to be free.

“No one? Does that mean you want to play a different game?”

How did she manage her enthusiasm? Reo wondered, noting her ever-bright smile. He glanced at his watch.

Fifteen minutes they’d been trapped. Fifteen minutes that must seem like fifteen hours to the children and felt like fifteen days to him.

What the hell is wrong with the electricity?

On that very thought the elevator lurched into motion... for maybe half a second. Then it stopped again, so abruptly that one of the costumed children was tossed to the floor. Reo and Miz Rusty moved to rescue him at the same time, soundly bumping heads in the process.

“Ow!”

“Oops!”

Screams of fright became a chorus of laughter that lightened the mood more than I Spy or any other kid’s game ever could. Ruefully Reo set the downed child, who wore a goalie mask of all things, back on his feet and assessed him for damages. The boy, who Miz Rusty called Matt, seemed OK.

Obviously taking advantage of the moment, Miz Rusty clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Looks like it’s going to be another few minutes before we get out of here, so why don’t we sing for Brad? Do you know any funny songs?”

They certainly did, and in seconds Reo was treated to a seemingly endless ditty about great green gobs of greasy, grimy gopher guts. The children sang with the enthusiasm and volume of youth. And though Reo’s ears soon begged for mercy, he pretended to enjoy the serenade—more uncharacteristic generosity that amazed him. Clearly Miz Rusty’s magic was as potent for thirty-five-year-old businessmen as it was for the under-six set, if in a slightly different way.

When that song finally ended, they sang another. And when it ended, others, until a solid hour had passed. Covertly Reo assessed their situation. Plenty of air. Plenty of light—though it flickered threateningly now and then. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that a maintenance crew labored to put the elevator in motion again. He just hoped it didn’t take much longer. The mood aboard would surely take a turn for the worst—

“Miz Rusty...Miz Rusty...?”

“What is it, Chad?”

Chad, dressed up like some kind of animal, maybe a bear, tugged her down to his level and then whispered loudly in her ear.

“Can’t you hold it?” Miz Rusty whispered back, words that elicited a mental groan from Reo. Here it was...the beginning of the end.

“Maybe,” came the not-so-reassuring reply.

“I’m hungry,” piped up Chris, the spaceman.

“And I’m thirsty,” added Sarah of the sequins and rhinestones.

Miz Rusty’s gaze met Reo’s across the crowded elevator. She gave him a half smile that could mean anything and then sighed rather lustily. “When we get to the party, there’ll be plenty to eat and drink. Meanwhile, did anyone bring any of the candy we gave you earlier?”

If anyone did, they weren’t telling.

“I have gum,” Reo heard himself blurt, words that resulted in ten new friends...maybe eleven, judging by the relief on Miz Rusty’s face.

With great ceremony, Reo withdrew the gum and opened the package. He took out five of the seven pieces and tore each in half. After distributing them to the children, he collected the wrappers and stashed them in a pocket, then shared a sixth piece with Miz Rusty. The other piece he put back in his pocket for an emergency... as if things could get worse.

Miz Rusty accepted the sweet with a smile of gratitude and for several minutes the only sound was melodious smacking. The smell of mint filled the air.

“How about a ghost story?” Reo next heard himself say, an idea that surprised him as much as it did Miz Rusty, who gave him a decidedly doubtful look.

“Don’t you think we’re, um, stimulated enough?”

“Trust me,” Reo said, an entreaty she honored with a shrug. He then made everyone, including Miz Rusty, sit in a semicircle and began to recite a time-old story about a less-than-genius grave robber, stolen bones in a box and the ridiculous skeleton who wanted them back. Drawing on memories from one of the few times he was allowed to sleep over with friends as a child, Reo acted out the drama, which ended in a surprise “Boo!” that resulted in squeals and then giggles.

Before the revelry had ceased, the elevator jerked into motion, this time reaching the twenty-second floor before it ground to a halt again. Miz Rusty and Reo reached for the Open Door button at the same time and inadvertently tangled again, resulting in more hilarity.

So it was a joyful group that spilled out of the elevator to be greeted by a maintenance man and two women Reo guessed to be more day-care workers.

“Oh, thank goodness,” one of the women exclaimed, reaching out to hug three children at once.

“Are we in time for the party?” Miz Rusty asked, clearly trying to change the subject. Her hint to downplay the event was apparently well taken.

“Of course you are!” the woman exclaimed.

In seconds the children were herded toward the stairs. The wide-eyed maintenance man, who obviously recognized Reo, darted down the hall as if the hounds of hell nipped at his heels—no doubt to report the incident to his boss. That left only Miz Rusty and Reo standing at the foot of the stairs. For a second they just looked at each other without speaking. Reo tried to see past her irresistible girl-next-door charm to the young woman inside. Was she really what she appeared to be—warm and caring with a dash of mischievousness thrown in?

Apparently...and what a contrast to Colleen, a divorce lawyer he’d originally hired to clear up a family mystery and then wound up dating on and off for the past two months. Cold, unless she thought hot would better serve her purpose, Colleen had at first seemed to be the woman of Reo’s dreams. Then she’d begun to cling and tried to take charge of him.

In retrospect he doubted she’d ever really cared about him as a person, seeing him instead as an asset to her image, a goal to be obtained. As for .that mischievous streak so appealing in Miz Rusty...Reo couldn’t remember the last time Colleen really smiled. Certainly not this morning, when he refused her demand that they attend tonight’s charity ball together.

Reo winced, recalling that ugly, very public scene in the reception area of her law office. Damn, but he was glad he’d finally ditched Counselor Colleen. It felt good to be free again, and he intended to retain that precious freedom for a long time to come.

“You were great,” Miz Rusty said, breaking into his memories. Reaching into a pocket hidden by the folds of her gown, she withdrew a tissue that she attempted to dab the sweat still beading on his forehead.

Reo instinctively ducked her touch. “I, um, just followed your lead.”

She looked surprised by his action—surprised and a little confused.

“Obviously you’re a natural with kids,” he added somewhat lamely, unwilling to hurt her, even though he’d just remembered how much he cherished the single life. It wasn’t Miz Rusty’s fault that she was so sexy. In fact, he doubted that she even knew... which was, of course, part of her appeal.

“Why, thank you.”

She studied his expression for a moment as if trying to do some mental probing of her own. Then her lips slowly stretched into what could only be called a hopeful smile, which made Reo wonder if she saw right through his grown-up cool to the lost boy inside.

“What time do you finish up today?” she asked. “I have a meeting right after this party, but after that I’d really like to buy you a beer for being such a good sport on the elevator.”

Reo tensed. More times than not when a woman he’d just met got friendly it was a matter of the pocketbook, not the heart. Had she picked up on his attraction to her? Was she now ready to make use of it?

“Brad...?”

Who? Oh, yeah. The alias. Miz Rusty thought he was Brad Turner, a peer, which meant she wasn’t after his money at all. How refreshing. So refreshing, in fact, that Reo was very tempted to accept her invitation... vulnerability or no.

Then he remembered he couldn’t.

“I have another obligation.”

“Oh.”

Her smile remained, but he sensed her disappointment.

Reo felt a stab of remorse and, yes, disappointment of his own. At this moment, he realized, there was nothing he’d rather do than spend time with Miz Rusty, who thought he worked in the mail room. They’d find a tavern somewhere where they could drink, dance and get to know each other intimately.

Intimately? He was a hormonal wreck! And, it seemed, an idiot, too. What else would one call a man so obviously eager to jump out of that proverbial frying pan into that proverbial fire? Rattled by his apparent dim wits, Reo quickly changed the subject. “Are you, um,, supposed to be Tinkerbell?”

She shook her head. “Guess again.”

“An angel?”

Miz Rusty bubbled with incredulous laughter. “Not by a long shot.”

At that softly drawled promise, Reo’s brain shut down for good, leaving him a babbling victim of desire. “I—I give up then. What are you?”

“A witch,” she whispered, her mouth quite close to his ear as if she feared someone else might overhear, even though they were now too, too alone.

Reo put his hands in his pockets to keep from touching her hair, her cheek, her—“But witches wear black.”

“Only the bad ones. I’m good.”

I’ll bet you are. Shivering as if someone’s fingertips had traced a path up his spine, he could not resist asking, “What, exactly, do good witches do?”

“Why, good things, of course.”

Her eyes twinkled with mischief. Her smile had returned full force. He could tell she enjoyed this foolish exchange as much as he—God help him. “Can you please be more specific?”

“More specific... Hmmm. Well, good witches cast good spells.”

“Yeah? What else?”

“They break bad ones.”

“And?...”

“They mix love potions.”

Something she’d never need, Reo realized, since that wicked smile of hers was all it took to turn one of the city’s most savvy businessmen—namely him—into a libidinous lunatic.

Time to get the hell out of the Sampson Building.

“Rusty? Are you coming?” The words wafted down the stairs from somewhere above, startling them both.

“Be right there,” Miz Rusty called back, much to Reo’s relief. “Now I want you to repeat after me—”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it, OK?”

Reo nodded cautiously.

“Five, five, five...”

“Five, five, five...” he muttered, so dazed that he hadn’t a clue as to where she was headed.

“Six, three, seven, seven.”

“Six, three, seven, sev—” Her phone number! She was giving him her phone number! Damn. “Six, three, seven, seven.”

“Good. Now say it again so I can be sure you have it right.”

“Five, five, five, six, three, seven, seven.” He’d always been a whiz with numbers—a blessing until now.

“Perfect,” Miz Rusty said, adding, “And remember... my offer to buy you a beer has no expiration date.” With a wave she moved quickly away from him, her skirt billowing out behind.

It took Reo several seconds to recover from the rain check, and by then she’d reached the midpoint landing and disappeared from view. She took with her the sunshine, leaving him in the shadow that was his life these days. Disgusted, disoriented and apparently as weak in the head as the knees, Reo stood looking after her for a moment. Then he slowly turned and trailed the maintenance man down the hall.

Chapter Two

“Chin up. Shoulders back. Stomach in. Chest out.”

“Chest out!” Beatrice Hanson, dubbed “Rusty” at birth by her older sister, snorted her opinion of that ridiculous order and tugged up the strapless bodice of the evening dress her housemate, Jade Martinelli, had rented for her to wear to tonight’s charity ball. Tight, black and sequined, it boasted a neck cut halfway to her belly button. Rusty felt naked. “I’ll have you know that if my chest sticks out any farther than it already does, I’m going to be arrested for indecent exposure.”

“Not tonight,” her friend replied, eyeing Rusty’s shiny finery in the full-length mirror before which the two of them stood. “Tonight you’ll fit right in and turn the head of every rich bachelor in the place—exactly what I’m hoping to do. And to think you’re only going to this shindig to make some business contacts.” She sighed as if Rusty were crazy or, at the least, a lost cause.

For a second they stared at their reflections in silence—two young women so opposite in looks, personality and motives, yet both dressed to knock ’em dead. Rusty suddenly wished she hadn’t let Jade talk her into tonight’s glitzy affair, even though it would be an excellent opportunity to rub elbows with some well-to-do moms more than willing to let someone like Rusty plan their children’s elaborate parties.

“Thanks for agreeing to go with me on such short notice,” Jade said, as if picking up on Rusty’s regrets.

“How could I refuse when you bribed me with a free ticket, free dress and free manicure.” Rusty held out her hands and inspected the bright crimson polish applied at a nail boutique barely an hour ago. “What do you think of the color?”

“Snazzy. Hides the red punch stain under your fingernails.”

Rusty grimaced at the truth of that. Such stains were an occupational hazard when one hosted children’s parties for a living. Lemon juice worked beautifully to remove the unwanted tint... when she found time to use it. She’d been busy until four o’clock today with a Mardi Gras celebration at the Sampson Enterprises day care, then had a very productive meeting with Angie Mallett, mother of one of the kids and a personal assistant to the CEO of the company.

“Are you ready to go? I’m dying to make an entrance.” Jade tucked a stray strand of her luxurious dark hair into the curls pinned up tonight to reveal faux diamond earrings. She wore scarlet, and if Rusty’s dress could be called indecent, Jade’s should be called illegal. Rusty knew that when bachelor heads turned, it would not be to look at a five-foot-five, freckle-faced redhead playing dress up. No, Jade, six feet tall and dark, would catch the eye of every man in the room, just as she always did. And who knew... maybe this time one of them would actually meet her mercenary standards.

“I’m ready,” answered Rusty, who held no malice toward Jade for her misguided goals. Tonight Rusty’s could only be considered fiscal, too. She’d been trying for ages to extend her client base to the influential side of town. This glitzy fund-raiser was just the social opportunity she needed. Rusty had high hopes for the evening, knowing things could only get better.

“We’ll take my car,” Jade said, breaking into Rusty’s thoughts.

“You mean you didn’t hire a golden carriage, oh Fairy Godmother?”

Jade hooted with laughter. “Cinderella, you ain’t.”

“And neither are you,” Rusty said, a gentle reminder that sobered the effervescent Jade for maybe half a second.

“Look... just because a rich guy dumped on your sister is no reason to assume they’re all jerks. In fact, I’m more than willing to give one a whirl.” She shrugged and led the way to the door. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll even get lucky tonight. Heck, honey, maybe you will, too.” She stopped short, a faraway look in her eye. “I can see it all now. You walk into the ballroom, nothing on your mind but business. You make a beeline for the first mommy-type you see, only to stop short when a strange man catches your eye. He’s tall, he’s dark, he’s handsome, he’s rich. Most important, he’s instantly in love with you.”

“Good grief, Jade. Would you quit talking nonsense and come on?”

“You’re drawn to him like metal to a magnet.”

“We’re going to be late.”

“Time stands still as the two of you come together, embrace and...kiss.” The last word was little more than a sigh.

“Are you coming or not?” Rusty tapped her toe on the floor in impatience.

“Suddenly it’s hearts, flowers and forever after.”

“Jade, I’m warning you...”

“And you never have to worry about anything again.” Jade’s eyes glazed.

“Snap out of it!”

It took several seconds, but Jade’s stare finally focused, and with a heavy sigh, she shrugged her acceptance of cold reality and once again headed for the door. “Can I help it if I’m a hopeful romantic and you’re a hopeless stick-in-the-mud?”

“Stick-in-the-mud!” Rusty stopped short. “I’ll have you know I’m the hostess with the mostest.”

“To the under-five set, maybe,” Jade answered, stopping to look back at her.

Rusty’s jaw dropped. “Are you saying I don’t know how to act around adults?”

“Yes, and male adults in particular.”

“I’ll have you know that I offered to buy a beer for a very handsome guy this very afternoon. I even gave him my phone number.”

“You’re kidding! Who?”

“His name is Brad Turner. He works in the mail room at Sampson.”

“You tried to pick up a teenager?”

“He was much older than that. Probably in his midto late-thirties.”

“God, Rusty. Only you would hit on a thirty-year-old mail clerk. That’s an entry position in any company. He’s got to be a real dud to still be in that sort of job at thirty.”

“So maybe he’s a supervisor or something,” murmured Rusty, somewhat defensively. Trust Jade to find something wrong with a man who would’ve knocked Rusty’s socks off earlier that day... had she been wearing any. As it was, he’d made her poor ol’ heart thump like a tom-tom.

She closed her eyes, remembering just how he looked: shaggy dark hair, gorgeous baby blues, chiseled jawline shadowed by whiskers no amount of shaving could completely erase. The man’s body was nothing to scoff at, either, as she recalled. Muscular...obviously fit. So what if he was a bit slow to warm up? He’d become quite human before their elevator time came to an end. And if she’d just had another half hour with him, he might even have loosened up enough to accept her offer of a beer.

“I’ll bet you a dollar to a doughnut he’s not a supervisor,” said Jade, bursting into Rusty’s Technicolor memories. “Want to know how I know?”

“Not really, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me, anyway.”

“I know because you have no taste in men. I mean, give you a lineup of nine blue-ribbon bachelors and one nerd, and you’ll pick the nerd every time.”

“Brad was not a nerd, Jade. He was a nice man. Nice is important—more important, in fact, than a hefty bank balance.” Rusty shook her head, searching for words to describe the incredible feelings Brad had evoked. “What can I say? He just knocked me out.”

“Heaven help me,” Jade murmured, throwing up her hands in exasperation and stepping out her front door.

Hesitating for a heartbeat, then following on Jade’s heels, Rusty silently echoed that sentiment. It would take all the angels in heaven plus a few here on earth to get her through this night’s gathering of high society without making a fool of herself.

Just half an hour later the two women stood outside the shiny brass doors of an elite country club. Following her friend’s lead, Rusty handed a uniformed doorman her gold-embossed ticket and stepped into fairyland. At least, that’s what it felt like, thanks to half a dozen enormous crystal chandeliers that illuminated the vast hall.

Pausing just inside the door with Jade at her side, Rusty scanned the crowded room for a familiar face and immediately saw several—the mayor of the city, standing next to the governor of the state, a U.S. senator, a local television talk-show host and a well-known brain surgeon. Not the crowd she usually ran with, Rusty realized, instantly abandoning all plans to peddle her paltry parties. Judging from the diamonds and furs in this room, any one of these mothers could simply rent Disneyland if they wanted to throw an extra-special birthday bash.

Thank goodness that afternoon’s appointment with Angie Mallett had gone so well. If their business arrangement worked out as discussed, Rusty would soon have one heck of a reference for her résumé, and a lack of contacts tonight really wouldn’t be the end of the world.

“I think we’re out of our league, here,” Rusty murmured to Jade, more than a little curious how her lower-middle-class housemate had wrangled invitations to this upper-upper-class event.

When Jade did not reply, Rusty looked around to discover that she now stood alone.

“Great,” she muttered in dismay, searching the crowd for her flashy friend, who was not to be found.

Though half-tempted to turn tail and run, Rusty squared her shoulders instead and began to wind her way through the crush of people, destination unknown. She said nothing to anyone, barely risking a timid smile, and that only when someone else smiled first.

It would be easy to turn into a wallflower tonight instead of working the room, she decided, now near hyperventilation point. How nice to stand safely to one side of the room, watching the posturing of the filthy rich.

“Well, if it isn’t Miz Rusty...”

Astonished to hear someone—especially a male someone—speaking her name, Rusty whirled around.

“Mail room Brad! Gosh, it’s good to see you.” It was all she could do not to hug the man—a virtual stranger, who at this moment was as welcome as a long-lost friend.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” Brad murmured, stepping so close that she had to tip her head back to meet his gaze. Rusty noted that he looked as astonished to see her as she was to see him.

“Neither did I,” she answered, laughing, oh so thrilled to see someone in her price range...especially this someone. “Is this—” she swept her arms to encompass the room “—the ‘obligation’ you mentioned earlier today?”

Brad nodded in reply, his gaze frisking Rusty from head to toe.

“Do this sort of thing often?” Rusty next asked, intrigued. Clearly Jade wasn’t the only peasant with impressive social connections.

“Only when I have to,” he said.

Rusty smiled at that and made an appraisal of her own, beginning at Brad’s satin bow tie and gradually encompassing his cummerbund, snow-white shirt, and perfectly tailored black jacket and pants. And to think she’d thought him gorgeous in khaki. He seemed so relaxed, too. As if he wore this kind of getup all the time.

The strangest feeling of uneasiness sneaked up on Rusty, who didn’t understand, so ignored it. What was surely going to be the worst night of her life had just turned into the best. Brad was here, and for all his cool demeanor hadn’t once looked away from her shiny black dress.

Warming up in response to his heated stare, Rusty asked, “Is there a punch bowl close by?”

“I believe there is, yes.” He stood tall enough to look over most heads, so did. “I see it. Are you thirsty?”

“Dry as the Sahara.”

“Then allow me to get you a drink.” He stepped away, only to stop short when Rusty reached out and grabbed his arm.

“I’m coming, too,” she announced, slipping a hand into his. If the familiarity surprised Brad, he covered it well and led the way to a buffet table heaped with artfully presented hors d’oeuvres, fruits, desserts and, best of all, drinks.

Brad moved to the punch bowl, supervised the filling of a crystal cup, then handed it to Rusty, who gratefully swallowed the entire contents. Alcoholic? she wondered, savoring the tangy flavor. Perhaps one of those drinks that hit hard later, scrambling the wits of unsuspecting young women when they least expected it? Why, by midnight she might find herself at Brad’s mercy—inhibitions gone with the wind.

Rusty choked back a laugh that threatened to spew what was probably only ginger ale and fruit juice. Instinct told her that Brad wasn’t the sort of guy who’d take advantage of a woman, even if attracted to her. And as far as Rusty could tell, he wasn’t all that attracted beyond a typical male interest in her female anatomy, a good bit of which showed at the moment.

In fact, he seemed really uneasy, and just then his gaze was everywhere but on her dress. Did he, perhaps, have a date waiting for him somewhere in this huge room? A date who now tapped her foot in impatience and wondered where in the heck he’d gone?

“Am I keeping you from someone?”

That got his attention again. “What? Oh, um, no. Why?”

“You seem so...restless.”

“Sorry. It’s just that I’m never really comfortable at functions such as this.”

“Then why’d you come?”

“I’d promised,” Brad replied with a shrug. “Besides, it’s for a good cause. Don’t you agree?”

“Oh, sure.” Rusty, who didn’t even know what cause that was, felt her face heat. At that moment Brad’s gaze found her gown again. He looked at it so long she felt her face get even hotter and had to wonder if he had X-ray vision. Suddenly she felt smothered. “What’s beyond those doors?”

“A veranda.”

“Perfect,” Rusty muttered, handing her empty glass to a waiter with a tray and then heading straight for some nearby French doors, half-hidden behind diaphanous white curtains.

With a twist of the knob, they swung open. She stepped outside onto what turned out to be a wide balcony. The air, unusually warm for late February, felt heavenly and smelled that way, too, thanks to the winter rose garden just beyond. Colorful and fragrant, it lured Rusty, and without hesitation she negotiated a stairway descent and entered it.

“Now this is more like it,” she murmured to herself as she sniffed a perfect red rose.

“So you hate crowds, too?”

Rusty spun around to find that Brad had followed and now stood right behind her. She really hadn’t expected that. “Some crowds. Certainly this one.”

“What’s wrong with this one?”

His tone hinted he might be offended. Rusty arched an eyebrow in surprise. “Why, it’s too ritzy, of course.”

“You expected something else?” Now he sounded bemused.

“As a matter of fact I did, probably because my housemate Jade Martinelli, who provided my ticket, is so normal.”

“Jade Martinelli?” He said the name slowly and softly as if vaguely familiar with it. Rusty hoped he hadn’t read it on a bathroom wall somewhere.

“That’s right. Um...do you know her?”

“I’m not sure.” He hesitated a millisecond longer, then gave it up with a shake of his head. “So you think that the people in that room aren’t as normal as you and your friend, Jade?”

“If normal is based on most citizens of this country, then I’d have to say no. Based on my experience, people who have this much money are ridiculously preoccupied with making more and don’t realize what’s really important in life.” Belatedly, she noted Brad’s frown. “Not that some of the people in there aren’t nice,” she quickly added. “I mean they’re here supporting this charity, aren’t they?”

He nodded. “Yes, and at considerable cost to them.”

Considerable cost? Just how much was that? Rusty wondered, trying in vain to ignore a second stab of uneasiness. What on earth had Jade hocked to get the money for their tickets? Her soul? Rusty gulped. Surely not her body. “I’m thinking we should talk about something else.”

“Not until we sit down,” Brad answered, looking a bit relieved. “Then we can talk about whatever you want.”

He looked around, spotted an ornate wrought-iron bench several yards farther into the garden, and led the way as they maneuvered through the flowers to get to it. Rusty seated herself beside him...or tried to. Her shoes slipped on the dew-kissed grass, resulting in an abrupt descent that put her half on and half off the bench. Luckily Brad had quick reflexes and saved her from landing on her butt on the ground. Not so luckily, his hand bumped her right breast, which nearly popped completely out of the dress.

“Sorry,” he murmured, face crimson even in the dim glow of the countless twinkle lights illuminating the garden.

“That’s OK,” Rusty replied, turning her back on him, tugging the dress back up. “Mind if I slip off these shoes? They’re lethal on this wet grass.”

“Go right ahead.”

An awkward silence settled on them as she stepped out of the strappy black shoes and set them to one side. The dew felt great on her tortured soles, and Rusty couldri’t help but wiggle her cramped toes as she slid back onto the bench and gave Brad a self-conscious smile. Belatedly she noticed that his arm lay on the back of the bench and now kept her bare skin from touching the cool metal.

Disconcerted, Rusty cleared her throat rather noisily. “So, um, how long have you worked at Sampson, Brad?”

“Nineteen years.”

Rusty’s jaw dropped. “They hire toddlers?”

“I started in the mail room at sixteen,” Brad told her with a grin.

So he was thirty-nve—older than she’d expected, but only seven years more than her own twenty-eight.

“How long have you been working with kids?” he then asked.

“Six years. I was a secretary before that. Hated putting on panty hose every day, so knew I had to find another line of work.” She heard the echo of her candid admission and tensed. “Guess you didn’t need to know that last bit of trivia.”

“Actually,” Brad answered with a laugh so sexy it made her palms sweat, “it gives me a whole new view of you...not that there’s anything wrong with the current one.” His gaze swept her from head to toe, just as it had earlier that night. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look?”

“Why, no.” She couldn’t prevent her smile of pleasure. “Did I tell you how handsome you look?”

“No.” He smiled back.

Rusty felt magic in the air—sheer magic that was three parts romance and one part sex. She desperately wanted him to kiss her, and, when he didn’t right away, swayed ever so slightly in his direction to encourage him.

Brad took the hint. Swiftly eliminating the space between them, he covered her lips with his in a kiss so all-consuming that her head actually spun, and time, place, everything else but him receded into black.

His mouth moved seductively over hers; his fingers brushed over her bare shoulders, then slid down her arms. Rusty shivered in anticipation of where he might touch next, all the while doing a little digital exploration of her own—his rugged jawline, his broad shoulders, the crisp cotton barrier of the shirt covering his chest.

She wished time could stand still. That she and Brad could spend forever—or at least another hour—all alone in this aromatic garden with beautiful music playing softly inside the building.

“Rusty? Are you out here?”

It was Jade...damn the luck. And even as Rusty considered ignoring the hissed words, Brad abruptly ended the kiss.

“I think I heard someone call your name.”

“My friend, Jade.” Reluctantly Rusty stood. “I’ll just go see what she wants. Shouldn’t take but a second.”

“Then I’ll wait right here.”

Good...no, excellent, she decided as she left him and slipped, shoeless, back through the flowers to the veranda. There stood Jade, clearly agitated.

“What are you doing out here all alone?” she instantly demanded, her voice breathless and low. “I’ve been looking for you for at least thirty minutes.”

Rusty grinned. “Actually, I’m not alone.”

“Oh, my God,” Jade exclaimed, grabbing Rusty’s arm in a painful clench. “Are you with him?”

“Him who?”

“The guy I saw you with at the buffet table. The one who gave you a cup of punch.”

“That’s exactly who I’m with, and you’ll never, ever guess who he is.”

“I don’t have to guess,” Jade said. “I know. He’s Reo Sampson, CEO of Sampson Enterprises.”

Rusty hooted with laughter at that ridiculous statement. “He is not, silly. His name is Brad Turner...the very same Brad I offered to buy a beer for this afternoon. Remember my telling you about the mail room guy?”

Jade shook her head and began to drag Rusty toward the door. “I don’t know any Brad. I do know that the man I saw you with a while ago is Reo Sampson, former boyfriend of Colleen O’Shaunessy, my boss.”

Rusty dug her stockinged heels into the veranda, bringing them both to an abrupt halt. “You’re confused.”

“No, darling, you are,” Jade retorted, once again tugging on Rusty’s arm. “And that means we’ve got to get out of here and quick.” They were at the French doors now. Jade glanced back toward the garden, gasped as if she’d seen a ghost, then lunged through the doorway, pulling Rusty along behind. Spinning, she shut and locked the door.

“What on earth are y—” Rusty tripped on her dress, too long now that she’d abandoned the high heels. Torn between retrieving her shoes and following Jade, Rusty stood frozen in indecision. Jade, however, never looked back as she rapidly circumvented the crowd of guests by keeping to the walls. With a huff of exasperation, Rusty came to an abrupt decision and scurried after her.

In seconds they reached an exit, both breathless. Jade yanked open the door and slipped outside, once again hauling Rusty after her. Only when the heavy door clicked shut behind them did the brunette pause for breath, stepping past Rusty to sag against the brick building, squashing her bare toe in the process.

“Ow!” Rusty raised the hem of her skirt and peered down at her foot, fully expecting to find the toe smashed to smithereens.

“Where are your shoes?”

“Back in the garden with Brad.”

“His name is not Brad. It’s Reo. Reo Sampson.”

Rusty studied Jade, noting that she seemed as sincere as she was out of breath. “You’re really sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. I saw the man just this morning in O’Shaunessy’s reception room. They were fighting because he wouldn’t go with her to the fund-raiser.”

“What fund-raiser?”

“This fund-raiser.”

“And was the fight just a silly fuss or were they really angry with each other?”

“They ended their professional and personal relationships before my eyes, Rusty. What do you think?” Jade sounded a little put out at Rusty for her curiosity.

Rusty didn’t care. She had to be sure she hadn’t just kissed some other woman’s man. “So why would Brad, er, Reo lie to me about his identity?”

“I’m afraid it might have something to do with me.”

“that?”

“Look, Rusty. We really need to go.”

“But—”

“I can see the car from here. If we cut through that flower bed—”

“I’m barefoot!”

“And climb that fence—”

“In this gown?”

. “We’ll be outta here in no time!” That said, the everathletic Jade hiked up her skirt past her knees and loped across the grass to a flower bed, through which she plunged without hesitation and without consideration for the poor landscaper who’d surely labored for days to make it look so pretty.

Rusty stared after her in disbelief for maybe a heartbeat before she, too, lifted the hem of her skirt and dashed across the lawn.

Jade owed her answers. Rusty intended to get them.

Panting by the time they reached the car, Jade jabbed her key in the lock, swung open the door and slipped behind the wheel. With a click of a switch, she unlocked the passenger door.

“Hurry!” she ordered even as Rusty dropped into the seat.

Seconds later, tires squealed as Jade drove out of the lot.

“Talk,” Rusty demanded as soon as they lost sight of the country club.

“I can’t talk and drive.”

“Since when?”

“Since tonight,” Jade snapped, shaking her head, then adding, “Oh, God, what a mess. Why did this have to happen?”

“What, exactly, has happened?”

Jade shifted her eyes from the road and gave Rusty a long, appraising look. “If I tell you the truth, will you still be my friend?”

Rusty, who hadn’t heard those words since the two of them were grade school buddies, winced. “Oh, Jade, is it that bad?” Jade had always had a knack for getting into mischief.

Jade nodded.

Rusty sighed and responded with her part of the litany. “You’ll be my friend forever.” Even if you did sell your body to buy tonight’s tickets.

“I think Reo Sampson knows I fished our fund-raiser tickets out of Colleen O’Shaunessy’s trash.”

“Excuse me?”

It was Jade’s turn to sigh. “When Reo Sampson and my boss had their fight this morning, she threw the two tickets she’d bought for this party into her wastebasket. As soon as they cleared out of the room, I rescued the tickets.”

“Oh, Jade, you didn’t.”

“This is the social event of the year, Rusty. I’ve always wanted to attend. She obviously didn’t. Why waste the tickets?”

“How much did she pay for them?”

“A thousand dollars each.”

“Ach!”

“Yeah, but she can afford it. Heck, she pays that much for her hair barrettes.”

“That’s not the point. You stole those tickets. We went to that fund-raiser under false pretenses.” “And Reo Sampson is aware of it. I’m going to lose my job. I just know it, and you can certainly forget the man ever calling you for a date.”

Just my luck, Rusty thought. Then logic waved a red flag before her eyes. “Wait...how could he possibly suspect you took the tickets?”

“He’s no idiot, Rusty. He watched me watch her throw the tickets in the waste can. He’s well aware I could never afford to pay for even one of them and probably even saw the greedy gleam in my eye. Two trashed tickets. Me and you appearing at his party—”

“His party?”

“Well, not literally, but he does donate big bucks to this charity and attends this fund-raiser every year. I’m certain he has a say in who’s invited. He surely knows you and I were not on the list.”

“How could you have thought for one second that you’d get away with this, Jade Martinelli? I mean, you knew the man was going to be here. Didn’t it occur to you that he might see you, recognize you, wonder how in the hell you got in the door?”

“You don’t understand. I heard him tell O’Shaunessy that he had other plans tonight. How was I supposed to know he just meant he preferred going to this thing stag instead of with her?”

“Use your head, Jade. Your boss was undoubtedly trying to impress Reo by buying tickets to an event he always attends. When he refused to accompany her, she knew they were through—the reason for the fight.”

“Oh.” Jade began to chew on her bottom lip, a little-girl expression of angst that had survived her childhood. “I’m sorry, OK? I never thought...”

And that, of course, was the problem. Jade never did think. Probably never would. Rusty held up a hand, halting what was surely going to be a nonstop flow of apologies that would not even be heard by the man who needed to hear it. Meanwhile, he undoubtedly thought she was partner to Jade’s crime.

So much for romance with a good-looking mail clerk. And so much for romance with a good-looking rich man. If he ever dialed the phone number she’d given him it would be a miracle.

Not that she even wanted him to now. Rusty knew first- and secondhand about rich businessmen who, when they weren’t having affairs with close friends’ wives, spent way too much time at the office getting richer. Hadn’t she just witnessed the heartbreak of her very own sister, once married to a man who’d risen from clerk to company president? “Damn!”

Jade nearly ran off the road at the sound of Rusty’s blurted curse. Successfully startled into silence, she glanced hesitantly over at her passenger, who now floundered in the wave of yet another ramification to tonight’s folly.

Come Monday, Rusty was scheduled to meet with Angie Mallett’s boss at Sampson Enterprises to finalize the business arrangements for the most exciting—and lucrative—assignment of her life.

And just who was Angie’s boss?

Why, the CEO of that company...none other than Reo Sampson himself!

Chapter Three

Alone in his study, Reo Sampson sat at the massive desk that once belonged to his maternal grandfather and frowned at the pair of women’s shoes he held, one in each hand. They were high heels—strappy, black numbers with 7 1/2 M imprinted on the inside.

Foolish shoes worn by a mystery woman he’d met mere hours ago on an elevator and could not seem to forget.

She called herself Rusty. Her eyes were green. Her figure could keep a man up all night—Reo grinned at his pun—wondering what it would be like to love her.

Love her? Oh no, not that. Never that.

Make love to her? Much more like it, since his crazy, undeniable attraction to Rusty was fleeting and physical—nothing more. How could it be when she was so flighty, a trait he abhorred in anyone? There were other traits that made her unsuitable for romantic pursuit, Reo assured himself, well aware that if unpredictability were her only fault, his body might yet win over his common sense, and he might dial the phone number he’d unwittingly put to memory.

Knowing he thought best on paper, he reached for a piece of stationery embossed with the company logo and an ink pen, the kind that used real ink from a bottle and produced bold, black strokes. Laying the paper on the desk, he drew a line from the top of the page to the bottom. The left column he labeled “Know”; the right, he labeled “Don’t Know.”

Reo then began to list exactly what he could or couldn’t say for certain about Miz Rusty, so that he could discourage what he believed could become a full-blown obsession with her. Under “Know” he wrote “hair color, eye color, shoe size, profession, phone number, name....” Here Reo paused. Unless Miz were her first name and Rusty her last, he didn’t know her name at all. Besides that, “Rusty” had to be a nickname based on hair color. Reo shook his head, wondering exactly how he and this unnamed woman wound up together in the garden at Ten Oaks Country Club, sharing one hot kiss.

Things had moved much too fast since the moment they met yesterday. And he had a funny feeling that the two of them might have shared more than just a kiss last night if her friend Jade hadn’t suddenly appeared and dragged her away.

Jade. Frowning, Reo wrote something else under “Know”: “Shares house with woman named Jade.”

Now why did that name—and the statuesque brunette to whom it belonged—seem so familiar? he wondered, even as he visualized a nameplate on a desk in an office in which he’d been more than once.

“Well, hell!” Reo suddenly exclaimed, slapping his palm to his forehead. Obviously Witch Rusty had put a spell on him. Why else would he not realize at once that Jade—a woman who dressed like an expensive but classy hooker, flirted shamelessly with all male clients and typed faster than humanly possible—worked for Colleen O’Shaunessy.

Jade had also not only witnessed his uncivilized split with Colleen, but knew his real name. At once Reo felt foolish for not having told Rusty the truth the first time she’d called him Brad. He had his reasons, of course, not the least of which was the novelty of being appreciated for something besides his money.

Was his real identity, then, the reason Miz Rusty had run last night? Reo hoped not. The idea that she’d run from instead of to when she learned who he was thoroughly intrigued him. He could feel his curiosity piquing, and he ruthlessly squashed it by reminding himself that the reason she’d fled was undoubtedly because Jade had told her about Colleen.

But no...Jade, who’d watched the fight, knew Reo and the lawyer were no longer a pair, knew he was free to kiss any woman he wanted.

Reo sighed his frustration. Second-guessing a female was pretty darned tricky—not a skill at which he excelled. He honestly couldn’t think of a single good reason why Jade would warn Rusty away...unless ... unless Colleen O’Shaunessy had shared confidential information about his grandfather’s possible indiscretion.

Such a scandal might put Rusty off, Reo realized. And God only knew Colleen desperately wanted to keep her skillful receptionist in her employ. Why, that forktongued lawyer had probably gone right back out in the reception area after Reo’s departure and lambasted the Sampson name. As a result, Jade had simply tried to save Rusty, a friend, from a fate worse than death.

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