Dawn continued to study him behind her menu.

She’d been sneaking glances at him since they’d first met. Had he not been a man, she would have called him beautiful, but his contradictions got in the way of such a simple description. Everything looked dwarfed around him. The chair he was sitting in looked like a toy, yet he moved with grace. He had a thin top lip as though drawn with the use of a ruler, but his bottom lip was full and sensuous. She wondered if that feature annoyed him.

His eyes were a surprise. When his gaze first fell on her face she’d taken an involuntary step back. She had expected dark brown eyes, but his were light brown. They looked the color of biscuits just pulled out of the oven. However, they didn’t reveal much. Not warmth or coldness—nothing. She couldn’t say the same for his voice. It betrayed a number of emotions in one word. That’s when she knew how to describe him. He was an opera—bold, majestic and enthralling.

DARA GIRARD’S

love of stories started with listening to the imaginative tales of her immigrant parents and grandparents. At age twelve, she sent out her first manuscript. After thirteen years of rejection, she got a contract. She started writing romance because she loves the “dance” between two people falling in love. She is the author of Table for Two, Gaining Interest, Carefree, Illusive Flame and The Sapphire Pendant. Her novels are known for their humor, interesting plot twists and witty dialogue. Dara lives in Maryland.

Visit her Web site, www.daragirard.com, or write to her, P.O. Box 10345, Silver Spring, MD 20914.

Sparks

Dara Girard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Faith—Because you were there when I needed you.

Dear Reader,

What happens when a man who’s ready for business meets a woman who’s ready for pleasure? Sparks!

I loved writing this story of two total opposites trying to reach a similar goal. Like her friend Simone, I wanted to see Dawn Ajani have a little more fun in her life. Enter Jordan Taylor, known for enjoying life and women. The tension between the two—Dawn, who wanted both Jordan’s business and his body, and Jordan, who was determined to change his playboy ways—provided ample opportunity for me as a writer. I was able to explore these two characters, showing both their strengths and weakness, and how each grew to love the other.

I hope you enjoy my first Kimani Romance release.

Happy reading,

Dara Girard

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 1

“I’m sorry about this.”

Dawn Ajani smiled at the man in front of her. She thought it was better than strangling him. Lionel Redding’s deep-set brown eyes looked apologetic. He had nice eyes and wore a great cologne. He smelled wonderful. It was the first thing she noticed about him beside his large size. Too bad the guy was a pig. A late afternoon sun sent pale strips of light into the room, highlighting his thinning black hair and glinting against the silver letter opener on her desk. Its pointy tip was a tempting weapon. Dawn pushed it out of reach.

“I regret having taken up so much of your time,” he continued. “You have impressive credentials of course.”

Dawn kept her smile, although her cheeks were beginning to ache. A patronizing, lying fathead.

“But I’m considering the Layton Group because they have the kind of manpower and resources I need to handle a company of my size.”

Trying not to gag, Dawn nodded, making a noncommittal sound that could be mistaken for understanding.

“They have a more established reputation—”

“I am well aware of Layton’s excellent reputation,” she interrupted. “I helped create it.”

He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable.

Her smile grew malicious. “But of course you know all about that.” Dawn leaned back in her chair and tapped her finger against the desk. She noticed her mauve nail polish was chipped and folded her hand into a fist. “I find it amazing that it took you four hours to come to that conclusion.”

“Yes, well I was interested in all that you had to say.”

“Really? Personally, I find it a relief that you decided not to use my services. It would likely take you half a day to decide which tax form you would like to use.”

He stiffened. “Now, Ms. Ajani—”

“Please. Do not pretend that you had any intention of using my services, Mr. Redding.” He opened his mouth; she held up her forefinger. He closed it. “I admit that when you first came in here I was flattered by your initial consideration, but I now know that it was all a ruse.” He opened his mouth again; she narrowed her eyes. He closed it and folded his arms. “And how did I know?” She didn’t allow him to answer. “Because you seemed ‘unnaturally’ interested in the location of my apartment, my latest vacation, and both my professional and private life. While I have no problem sharing trivial information such as whether I prefer the color blue or gray.” She paused. “Incidentally, I prefer neither color, you can put that down if you find it pertinent.” She gestured to the pad where he had been taking notes. “I do take offense to nosy busybodies.”

His arms fell to his sides. “I wanted to know if you had any other obligations which may have affected your attention to my needs.”

Dawn rested her chin in her hand. “Just how much attention do you need, Mr. Redding?” She raised her hand. “Never mind, I am not interested. If you need the kind of attention I think you do, I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong company. However, you can find such companies under the heading of Escort Services in the Yellow Pages.”

His lips disappeared into his fleshy round face. He drew in his prominent chin, causing the second one to quiver. “Ms.—”

“You’ve wasted enough of my time and I plan to be compensated.”

He widened his eyes. “You said that the first consultation was free.”

“But this wasn’t a consultation, was it? It was an underhanded attempt by your client to discover how well I am doing in my new business. My initial consultations take one hour, Mr. Redding. You were an exception. It wasn’t hard for me to discover that you are a private investigator. To be exact, you asked a series of such inane questions I was amazed anyone running a business could be so inept.”

“I won’t sit here and be insulted. I—”

“Don’t be. I’m complimenting you, Mr. Redding.” She shook her head and laughed without humor. “For a moment there I thought I would have better progress conversing with a tree stump.”

He lifted his briefcase onto his lap and opened it. “I knew working with a woman was a mistake.” He shoved his papers inside. “You become so emotional and—”

“How much did Brandon pay you to come here?”

He snapped the briefcase shut. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Would you like me to repeat it slowly or write it down?”

His face turned an unhealthy red. “Now—”

She wagged a finger. “There’s no need to get emotional, Mr. Redding, I merely asked a question.”

“You—”

“How much did he pay you?”

“Nothing.”

Dawn stood and came from behind the desk. “Let me frame it a different way. Will you be paid for information you didn’t gather?” She leaned against the table. “Knowing Brandon, he only paid you a third of what you agreed on and will not pay you further unless you supply him with the information he wants. Now wouldn’t you hate to have gone through all this trouble for nothing?”

Lionel glanced away.

“Let me help you out.”

He sent her a curious glance.

“I could give you some of the information you seek, for a small fee.”

“No.”

She folded her arms under her breast and sighed heavily. His gaze dipped. It was a cheap trick, but she was pleased it worked. “Very well. If you don’t want the juicy tidbit I could give you, that’s your choice.”

His face remained impassive, but his eyes lit with interest. “Juicy tidbit?”

“That is correct.”

He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Okay. It’s a deal. What do you have for me?”

“So you admit that Brandon sent you to spy on me?”

“Yes.”

Dawn held out her hand. He hesitated, then handed her a few bills. She counted them then folded them up. She grinned at him when he glanced at her cleavage. “No, I’m not going to put them there.” He colored a bit and looked away.

She put the money in her purse. “Good. You can go now.”

Lionel surged to his feet. “Wait. What about the juicy tidbit?”

Dawn opened her desk drawer and pulled out a tangerine. “It’s delicious. Enjoy.” She placed it in his palm.

He stared at the tangerine, his mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out.

She walked across the room and opened the door. “Goodbye, Mr. Redding.”

“You’re a conniving, lying…”

She bowed as though he’d offered her a compliment. “Welcome to Washington, D.C., Mr. Redding. Good day.”

After Redding left, Dawn closed the door then went over and stood by the window. She used to have a view of Wisconsin Avenue with its well-dressed people and designer cars. Not anymore. Although she did see cars: she had an unblocked view of a parking lot.

Dawn tapped a finger against the wall. She used to have everything until Brandon Layton, her then lover and business partner, had convinced the board that as vice president, she had been involved in shady deals with the company’s finances. They voted her out of office within a week.

Looking out the window, she suddenly spotted a tall lanky man acting strangely. He was wearing a gray overcoat, and his reddish-brown hair stuck up all over his head—from the wind or by design she wasn’t sure. He wandered around the parking lot, probably searching for his car. Dawn folded her arms then frowned at the tightness under her arms. This jacket used to fit—loosely. She took it off and tossed it over her chair. A lot of her clothes used to fit, but not anymore.

Wouldn’t Brandon just love to know about the extra fifteen pounds she’d picked up since their breakup? Her slim figure had actually gotten rather curvy. She looked at the box of donuts on the table and grabbed a half-eaten one: chocolate with coconut topping. She stopped with it halfway to her mouth. She shouldn’t. She should eat fruits, nuts and low-fat shakes. She should jog every morning and drink lots of water. She should really try to eat healthy.

She sighed. Dropped the donut back in the box and tossed it in the trash bin on the side of her desk. Her stomach rumbled. She could still smell the sweet scent of powdered sugar, coconut shavings and chocolate. But she would resist. She had to get into shape.

Dawn took a step back from her trash bin and turned back to the window. The man was still wandering. She opened the window. A light breeze from winter’s lasting hold struck her face. From her view on the fourth floor she could see the entire lot. Perhaps she could help. She called down to him. “What does it look like?”

The man jumped and spun around looking wildly around him.

“Up here,” she said waving.

He glanced up and shielded his eyes against the sun. “Yeah?”

“Your car. What does it look like?”

“I own a green Chevy.”

Dawn scanned the lot. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see any green Chevys. Perhaps you drove something else today.”

The man shook his head. “I didn’t drive here.” He pointed to his watch. “It’s supposed to be here waiting for me.”

Dawn glanced at her clock. He probably meant the bus. “No, you don’t catch the bus here. The stop is five blocks up the road.”

“I’m not looking for the bus. I’m waiting for the Parva.”

“Never heard of it. Is it a new tour company?”

“It’s my spaceship. I was certain the Telkain people would meet me here today. Have you seen them? Their friends have to return and I’m going with them. They’re really small, but have a laser that will shrink me so that I will be allowed to join them.”

Dawn sighed. Great. First a pig, now a nutcase. Her theory was correct. There were no more decent men left. “Sorry, I haven’t seen them.”

“Do you want to? I have them right here.” He opened his overcoat. She did not see the Telkain people, but she did see everything else.

Dawn ducked back inside, hitting her head on the window frame. She swore and shut the window.

Her assistant Simone Brackus peeked her head inside. Her greenish-brown eyes showed concern. “Are you okay?” she asked in a deep melodic voice that belied her petite size and delicate features.

Dawn rubbed the back of her head. “I’m not sure.”

“Well?” Simone asked, waving her hands impatiently.

“We didn’t get the job. Brandon hired him to snoop.”

She sighed. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

“I know.” She looked at the stack of mail—bills mostly. If she didn’t get a job soon Ajani Consulting will have to go on hiatus permanently. Brandon would love that!

“Another hard day?” Martin, the security guard, asked her as she made her way to the elevators in her apartment.

“Yes.”

“Tomorrow will be better.”

“Thanks.” Dawn stepped into the elevator and watched the doors closed. Tomorrow would be better. It had to be.

Jordan Taylor didn’t believe in ghosts until his ex-wife began to haunt him. Unfortunately, she wasn’t dead yet. Not that he ever harbored any thoughts of killing her. Killing her memory would be much more satisfying. Twisting its neck until all life was gone and throwing it in a trash heap to be forgotten. Yes, that would make his life perfect. Well, almost perfect.

He stared down at his bedroom floor, watching the red glow of his digital clock pierce the shadows amid the low lamplight. It mingled with the moonlight that splashed a pale glow on the carpet. Nobody thought he knew what he was doing as the new CEO of The Medical Institute. They were right, but they didn’t need to know that. And he wasn’t going to tell them.

The early April breeze tapped against his window. For a moment he considered inviting it in, letting the wind’s cool breath numb his body, perhaps freeze his thoughts. But he didn’t move.

He drummed his fingers against the mattress as his mind betrayed him, rehashing memories he’d wanted to banish, repeating words he wanted to forget. Do you take this woman—Within minutes the entire vow repeated in his memory as it had for years—for as long as you both shall live? He wondered if other grooms looked at their beloved and suddenly felt sick.

He had looked into his ex-wife’s eyes and saw the hope, commitment, and what he had mistaken for love, shining in her sweet, brown gaze and quickly pushed his doubts aside. He had willingly handed the preacher the key to his chains with two simple words: I do. Damn. He flexed his fingers, pushing the thought away.

A man should not be judged solely by his mistakes, and he did not plan on making any more. He was a simple, practical man and knew the best way to avoid future misjudgments was to act in a manner that prevented them.

He would never allow himself to be trampled on by a woman’s ambition.

He would never find himself in a situation he could not control.

He would never be ruled by emotion.

With that criteria he was certain Maxine would never happen again.

Maxine. Even her name had power, conjuring up memories like a genie from a bottle: elusive but no less real. A simple thing—a word, a fragrance—would transport him to the death of his marriage. To the death of his dream of home and family. He shook his head in frustration. What a fool he’d been.

“Jordan?”

He had to forget and think about the business. The Medical Institute was the best way to prove that he deserved the Taylor name. With the help of Ajani Consulting he would make it one of the most renowned in the region.

“Jordan? Jordan!”

Slowly his muscles relaxed as he felt gentle kisses on his neck. He emptied his mind and gave into the soft caress. Yes, finally a brief peace. Suddenly, teeth bit in to his flesh. He leaped up, grabbing his neck.

“Ouch! What did you do that for?” He glared at Gail. She had a satisfied smirk on her face. He had been dating her for four months and that smirk was becoming a common, if not annoying, expression.

“It was the only way to get your attention,” she said without apology.

He rubbed his neck then glanced at his hand. “Did you draw blood?”

She slowly licked her lips. “No, but I tried.”

His anger dissolved. He fell back and let out a weary sigh.

“Jordan?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. When I start to think—”

“Yes, I know. There’s no harm letting someone into your thoughts.”

“They aren’t worth sharing.”

She made an impatient gesture with her hand. “Maybe. But, honey, it’s no fun making love to a man whose mind isn’t there.” She stood up and gathered her clothes.

He watched her, his heart sinking with regret. He shouldn’t let her go, but he would. He always let them go. He should jump up and grab her in his arms, say the words she wanted to hear. Ask her not to leave. Ask her to be patient with him, give him time. All he needed was time.

Gail Walters was the type of woman men held on to. Either because they wanted to or they needed to—it didn’t matter the reason. They just did. She was attractive—her eyes a bewitching hazel, her skin an almost edible mocha. He smiled as he thought of the very satisfying meals he’d enjoyed throughout their acquaintance. She was kind, a rare trait in most ambitious women, and she didn’t have that desperate look of a woman looking for a breeder. She was also smart. Not that it was a requirement, but it was a nice bonus.

She was good for him, someone he could hold on to—trust. Unfortunately, that wouldn’t stop him from letting her go. He didn’t deserve her. She deserved someone else. Someone who would be there for her. Someone who felt like a whole person instead of half of one.

Jordan sat up on his elbows and watched her pull on her sweater. “You’re leaving?” It was a stupid question, but he had nothing else to say.

“Yes.” Her voice was soft, resigned. She sat down on the bed and pulled on her boots.

The room was too quiet. Silence pounded in his ears. When he wasn’t living in his mind, he liked to have noise around him. “Look, Gail—”

She held her hand up and looked at him, tears swimming in her eyes. His heart constricted. She spoke, her voice a whisper. “No, please don’t say anything.”

Fine. He wouldn’t speak, but he couldn’t sit there and watch her cry. He hated to see a woman cry, especially if he was the cause. He reached out and gently touched her cheek. She leaped to her feet, as though he’d burned her. She glanced around the room then looked down at him. “When’s the last time you smiled, Jordan?”

He frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

She shrugged then grabbed her jacket. “Forget it.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Gail.”

“I know,” she said quietly, looking at everything in the room but him. “That’s what hurts the most.” She went to the door.

He jumped out of bed and spun her around. “Gail—”

She briefly closed her eyes, tired. “Don’t do this. I’m not strong enough to fight you. We both know this isn’t working. I’m not the one.”

He let her arms go. “The one what?”

She looked up at him, her voice soft. “The one to give you back your heart.”

He lifted a brow, more amused than offended. “You think I’m heartless?”

“No. I think you’re afraid of loving someone again.”

His jaw twitched. “It’s only been four months. You can’t expect me to love you yet.”

She folded her arms and leaned against the door. “I’m not even sure you like me.”

“Of course I like you. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

She shook her head, her long bangs swinging back and forth. “I’m just here because you don’t want to be alone. You’re afraid of being alone.”

“No, I—”

She placed two fingers against his lips, her voice firm. “You’re afraid of being alone, but the sad thing is you already are.” She let her fingers fall. “You won’t allow anyone close.” She turned and headed for the stairs.

He followed. “That’s not true. I spend a lot of time in my head and—”

“Ignore that someone else is in the room and trying to make love to you. Do you think that’s normal?”

He narrowed his eyes and held up a hand. “Just give me a minute to come up with a good response. I’m sure I have one.”

Gail glanced skyward then grabbed her purse from the hall table. She opened the door.

“That’s not true,” he said.

She sent him a cool glance over her shoulder. “That’s your big reply? Your witty comeback?”

He scratched his head, chagrined. “A minute hasn’t passed yet.”

“It’s over, Jordan.”

Her words should have hurt him. He hoped he didn’t look relieved. He let his gaze fall, and his voice deepened with regret. “I know.”

He listened to her heels click down the concrete steps. They stopped then came up the steps again. He could feel her looking at him, feel her considering giving him another chance. Perhaps he had played the rejected suitor too well. “If you want to try—” she began.

He met her gaze determined to look defeated, but brave. “You deserve better.”

The corner of her mouth kicked up. “Right.” She folded her arms. “So now who’s dumping whom?”

He blinked. This was the danger with dating smart women. “You’re dumping me.”

She stepped closer and wrapped an arm around his neck. He could smell the peach lotion she loved to wear. “Why?”

Instinctively his arm went around her waist; perhaps they could break up tomorrow. “Because the only thing I have to offer is a fun night in bed.”

She glanced down then searched his face. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

His voice hardened. “I wasn’t.”

She sighed and stepped back. “It’s such a waste.”

“What is?”

“Your face.”

“What do you mean by that?” He rubbed his cheek. “It’s served me well.”

“Yes, I know. I analyze things for a living and your face is one of the best illusions I’ve ever seen.” She raced down the steps before he could reply. “Bye,” she called, then jumped in her car and drove off.

Jordan watched her drive away and out of his life. His relief slipped into guilt then annoyance. He was used to the sadness and sometimes the tears, but he hadn’t expected pity. She had no right to pity him. He didn’t mind being alone, he just didn’t prefer it. Why deny yourself something when you had a choice?

He stared into the dark, quiet street lined with parked cars and a newly paved sidewalk. The headlights from a car coming up the drive next door caught his attention. He watched his neighbor, Lana Patterson, climb out of her red Acura. She was an attractive woman of forty-three and had tried for weeks to start up a flirtation. He had rebuffed her efforts. Not because she was older or because her son was on the police force, but because she lived next door. Definitely not affair material. When he broke up with a woman he wanted her gone. He liked things to end clean.

He waved at her, feeling in the neighborly mood. “Evening, Lana.”

She looked at him and her mouth fell open. Suddenly, her face spread into an amused smile. “Hi, Jordan. Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine. Why?”

“You’re not cold? The wind doesn’t bother you?”

“No, the weather’s great. I can feel spring in the air.”

“Yes, I’m sure you can feel a lot of things.” She laughed and went inside.

He shook his head confused by her laughter and rested his hands on his hips. That’s when he knew why she was laughing. He’d forgotten to put his clothes on.

Chapter 2

When the phone rang early the next morning, Simone and Dawn stared at each other over Dawn’s desk. They had spent the last few hours trying to pretend they were busy. The phones had been silent for a while.

“It could be a possible client,” Simone said.

Dawn bit her lip and reached for her box of croissants then remembered she’d already had two. She knew they weren’t healthier than donuts, but at least they looked it. “Or a bill collector.”

The phone rang again.

“Let them leave a message,” Dawn said.

Simone headed for the outer office to answer it. “I think it’s a client.”

Dawn sighed and glanced around her office. She once had a closet bigger than this room.

Simone’s voice came over the speakerphone. “There’s a call for you. Jordan Taylor from The Medical Institute.”

Dawn frowned. The Medical Institute was a well-established company that trained medical personnel. Why would they call her? “You mean A Mental Interlude?”

Simone laughed. “Cute. Pick up the phone.”

“Okay.” She switched lines. This was probably another one of Brandon’s tricks. She leaned back in her chair, resting her feet on the desk. “Dawn Ajani, how may I help you?”

“Hello. My name is Jordan Taylor. I am the new CEO of The Medical Institute. I read your ad in Washington Business and would be interested in using your services.”

She rolled her eyes. Sure, and I’m a five-eleven swimsuit model. “What can I do for you, Mr. Taylor?”

“I would like to make some changes to our company’s structure and I am interested in a consultation. I’d like to schedule an appointment with you right away.” He hesitated. “The issues I need to deal with are rather delicate in nature.”

Dawn shook her head. It was a shame he sounded so sincere. His accent wasn’t that of a Washington native. It had a slow Southern quality that made her think of Indian summers and the amber color of bourbon glistening in a crystal decanter. “Of course you would. When would you like to meet?”

“Tomorrow night. You could come to my place.”

“Your place.” Right. Another pig. “Mr. Taylor, may I suggest that you continue to play this little game on your own time? There are 900 numbers available for you. I’m sure Brandon could give you plenty to choose from.”

She expected him to get angry or deny it, but a thick silence seeped through the line. Dread made her skin tingle. Had she made a mistake? “Mr. Taylor?”

Eventually, he said, “I think I have the wrong number. Excuse me.”

Dawn sat up and swung her legs to the ground. Her foot dislodged a stack of books, causing two to crash to the ground. “No, wait! Mr. Taylor?”

“I’m still here,” he said with a note of regret.

“I am terribly sorry. No, please don’t hang up. There’s been a misunderstanding. I…well, there’s no excuse really.” Except for the fact that I’m a moron. “ Let’s try this again. Okay?” She waited. Soon the dial tone buzzed in her ear. Dawn squeezed her eyes shut and groaned. “I’m an idiot.” She replaced the receiver. “Score one for Brandon.” She stared at the box of croissants, then threw them away. She had to make serious changes in her life.

Dawn stood, rested her head on the window frame and saw the man from yesterday still looking for his alien friends. She probably should call the police. She rested her forehead against the cool window. Either that or join him.

Simone peeked her head inside. “Well?”

She waved a dismissive hand and groaned. “Don’t ask.”

The phone rang.

“I’m not here,” Dawn said as Simone went to the phone. Simone answered then listened. She hit the mute button then turned to Dawn. “You’d better answer this.”

“Why?”

“It’s him. That Taylor guy.”

Dawn lunged for the phone and hit her knee against the desk. She swore and answered in a breathless rush. “Dawn Ajani speaking. How may I help you?”

“Is this a bad time?”

Her heart raced. Yes, it was definitely him, bourbon and hot southern nights. She frowned. Where had that come from? “No, not at all.”

“Hello. My name is Jordan Taylor. I saw your ad and would be interested in using your services.”

She felt heady from his voice and the relief that followed. She fell into her chair. “Oh, I’m so glad you called back. I am terribly sorry for the mix up before. I guess I’m still recuperating from a bad meeting with a man who took up four hours of my time yesterday and I took my frustration out on you.”

“Ms. Ajani—”

“When you hung up I thought, Oh great, I’ve lost a fantastic opportunity. Should I call back?”

“Ms. Ajani—”

“But that would be difficult because he probably has an unlisted number. So you can imagine how—”

“Ms. Ajani!”

She halted. “Yes?”

“I thought the point of my calling back was to pretend that the previous conversation didn’t happen.”

“Yes, of course.”

“I would like to schedule a meeting,” he said with exaggerated patience.

She looked at her empty calendar. “Okay. When would be convenient?”

“We can meet outside my house. There’s a restaurant that is within walking distance. Parking is difficult so it’s easier to walk.”

“About my fee—”

“Just send me your invoice.”

She pumped the air with her fist. Money was no object. “Okay, also—”

“I’ll see you at seven tomorrow. I’ll give your assistant the directions. Goodbye.”

“Bye.” She transferred the call to Simone. “Simone, can you please get directions from Mr. Taylor,” she said then hung up. She sagged against her chair. A possible client. Time to treat herself! She looked in the trash bin and pulled out the box of croissants.

“What are you doing?”

Dawn glanced up and saw Simone staring at her with a knowing grin. She grinned back, feeling a little guilty. “We really shouldn’t let good food go to waste.”

Simone eagerly pulled up a side chair and sat. “So what happened?”

Dawn dropped the box back in the garbage. “I think we might have a new client. Find out all you can on The Medical Institute.”

Jordan Taylor stared at the phone. Perhaps working with Ajani Consulting wasn’t such a good idea. The company was small and hungry. Something he could control. He liked being in control, but based on the phone conversation he had just had, he was having second thoughts. The owner might prove difficult. He’d find out more at the meeting. Maybe even call another company to keep his options open.

His assistant Marlene Dobson knocked on the door then entered. The bracelets on her wrists and ankles clinked as she walked. He didn’t think it professional to wear so much jewelry, but she’d been with the business from the beginning and he didn’t want to change what worked and Marlene certainly did.

She held up a package, the gold bracelets on her brown arm clanking together. “This is for you.”

“Just put it on the desk, thanks.”

He looked at the second name on the list. Franklin Enterprises, a renowned consulting firm might have more experience. The phone rang. He hit the speakerphone. “Taylor.”

A female voice came on the line. “Hey, baby. Guess what I plan to do to you tonight.”

Jordan grabbed the phone and sent Marlene a smile. She pretended not to notice as she put the packet in his in-box. She left and closed the door.

“I’m at work, Gail,” he warned in a low voice.

“So? You didn’t mind my messages before.”

“I wasn’t in this position before.”

He glanced around the large office both proud and scared of his new responsibility. Only three weeks ago he was snorkeling in Barbados until his father decided to semiretire, because of a diagnosed heart condition, and made him head of the Institute.

“What should I wear tonight?”

Jordan put a big question mark against Ajani Consulting. “What’s happening tonight?”

Her tone sharpened. “Nothing if you keep up that attitude.”

“Gail, I have a lot on my mind. What are you talking about?”

“I’ve decided that we should make up. I know you’re under a lot of pressure and need space so I think—”

“Gail. I like you. You deserve better. Honey, you know you do. Any time you want to talk, you know how to reach me.”

“Somehow this still feels like you’re dumping me.”

“No. Remember you’re dumping me, your absentminded, single-focused boyfriend.”

She hesitated. “But you’re so sincere and sweet.”

“I’m not sweet and you think I’m heartless, remember?”

She sighed. “That’s what I tell myself, but I know better. I wish I could hate you.”

“I could come up with a reason if you give me a chance.”

Gail sighed again, this time resigned. “Bye, Jordan.”

“Bye, honey.” He absently replaced the receiver and placed another question mark on the paper next to Ajani Consulting. The owner really sounded ditzy. Perhaps he should cancel.

Someone knocked on the door. Jordan glanced up. “Come in.”

His half brother Ray entered the room with a sense of entitlement Jordan was trying to achieve. Ray had been with the company since his midteens. “Have you looked at the document Revis Technologies sent?”

Jordan glanced at the package. “No, not yet.”

Ray lifted the packet Marlene had placed in the in-box. “Here it is.”

“Marlene just put it there.”

Ray tucked it under his arm and turned to the door. “I’ll take care of it.”

“No, you won’t.”

Ray spun around and laughed as though Jordan had made a joke. “Trust me. I’ll take care of it. I doubt you’d understand it.”

Jordan held out his hand. “Here’s a news flash. I know how to read.”

“But there’s nothing in here about water temperature.”

“Put it back, Ray.”

“You don’t belong here, Jordan. No matter how much you try to play the game. You’ve never belonged because—” He stopped.

“Because I’m the bastard and you’re not? Yeah. I can be a bastard in more ways than one so I suggest you put that package back and go on your lunch break.”

Ray tossed the file down, causing papers to fall to the ground, then left.

Jordan watched the door close then sighed and picked up the fallen papers. He’d make this company work. He’d show them that he didn’t take the Taylor name for granted.

His intercom buzzed and Marlene’s voice came on the line. “Uh, Mr. Taylor. There’s someone on the line who says she has to speak to you.”

“Who?”

“She says her name is Maxine.”

His gut clenched. What the hell would she want with him? “Tell her I’m not here.” He pressed the button and leaned back for a moment wishing that were true.

Chapter 3

“Jordan Taylor. That sounds like a nice name,” Simone said, looking at the information on her desk. Jordan had sent them an outline of his ideas to see if Dawn could come up with something for their meeting.

Dawn tapped her desk with impatience and sent her assistant a cool look. “That’s not why I plan to work with him.”

Simone set the paper down. “Are you sure you can do this? It’s a big job. You’ve never dealt with this kind of assignment before.”

Dawn glanced around her office at her particle board furniture and stained brown carpet. She would do anything to rebuild her life and get herself out of this place. “Am I sure that I can make The Medical Institute a viable entity? Of course. I have no doubt that I can make The Medical Institute number one in the state. I can make it a place where people in the medical profession go to first when they want to recruit medical and dental assistants and secretaries.”

“Remember it’s his institute not yours,” Simone said with caution.

“It will be our institute, eventually. A joint effort. I plan to make it very clear that it will be in his best interest to follow my suggestions.”

“How?”

Dawn smiled faintly. “As long as you make a man believe something is his idea, he will go along with it.”

“I’m not questioning your skill,” Simone said quickly, knowing how determined her boss and friend was. “I just think, perhaps…sometimes you tend to overwhelm people.”

Dawn raised her eyebrows. “Have there been complaints?”

“No, just…” She waved her hands, trying to grasp the right explanation. “People want to feel that their ideas are being acknowledged. I know that you’re good at what you do and you always get results, but you also need to let others be good at what they do.”

“They’re obviously not very good at what they do, if they have to come to me.”

“They want a consultation, not an overhaul. At times your ideas are very grandiose and that makes some people nervous. Perhaps you could start small and then build from there.”

Dawn abruptly stopped tapping the desk. “I don’t have the patience to start small. Especially when given the opportunity to do otherwise.”

Simone nodded, but Dawn knew her friend would never understand her drive. Right now she was struggling, but she knew she would eventually prosper, and when she was strong enough, she’d crush the Layton Group.

“Basing a business on revenge is not a good idea.”

Dawn’s dark eyes focused on Simone. “What do you mean?”

Simone touched the information sheet. “This is about Brandon, isn’t it? Everything you do is.”

She stood, suddenly feeling restless. “No. This is about business. Besides I’m glad he’s gone. He was a dreadful business partner. I know he has to resist lifting his leg every time he passes a fire hydrant.”

“Careful. You’re beginning to sound bitter.”

She went to the window and glanced down at the parking lot. “I might as well get it out of my system. I need the skill and patience to handle Mr. Taylor properly.”

“I doubt Mr. Taylor would like to be ‘handled.’”

Dawn turned to her and leaned against the windowsill. “I’ve learned a lot about men over the years. They usually don’t know what they want until you tell them. Well, in the case of Jordan Taylor, I’ll tell him what he wants then help him get it.”

“So who’s next?” David Watkins asked Jordan as they sat in an upscale eatery finishing a hearty breakfast. They were both large men with appetites to match. The plates between them threatened to cause an avalanche that neither noticed. David leaned over his plate as he cut his omelet, his brown dreadlocks falling forward.

Jordan glanced at his friend, wishing he could convince him to tie his hair back. He dashed hot pepper on his poached eggs instead. “Next for what?”

“In line. Since you and Gail broke up I’m sure there’s someone new.” He glanced at his watch.

“Naturally, I’m not surprised.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s April. Gail reached her four-month mark. Her sell-by date had expired.”

Jordan scowled at his accuracy. “It isn’t like that.”

“Since your divorce you haven’t been with a woman longer than four months.”

Jordan tucked into his eggs. “You’ve been keeping track?”

“Three women in the last year. Does that ring a bell?”

He sipped his coffee and shrugged.

“Based on those facts the most logical question is: Who’s next?”

“Nobody.”

“There has to be somebody. Since ninth grade you’ve always had a girlfriend.”

The waitress approached the table. Her long black hair hung in a ponytail, leaving her heart-shaped face prominent and displaying streaks of rouge from her chin to her cheek. “Are you enjoying your meal?” she asked.

Jordan nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

“Would you like me to refill your coffee?”

He covered his mug. Coffee brimmed to the rim. “No, thanks.”

She smiled and left.

David rubbed his eyes. “Either I’m suffering from déjà vu or that’s the fifth time she’s come over here.”

Jordan watched her take an order from a young couple cooing at their baby. “She’s just very attentive.”

“Yes, on catching a man.” David followed his gaze. “Careful, these women have nets.”

“I don’t plan on getting caught.”

“You were once.”

Jordan tapped the rim of his mug. “Yes, I’d managed to forget my three-year marriage. Thanks for reminding me.”

David ignored his sarcasm. “It was inevitable. You’ll get caught again too. You can’t be without a woman longer than a week.”

Jordan looked annoyed. “Of course I can. I just like their company. Women intrigue me.”

“Until you get antsy and need to get rid of them.”

“I don’t get rid of them. I give them a reason to get rid of me.”

David lifted a brow. “So you admit there’s a method to all this.”

“I don’t admit a thing.”

“What will you do when a woman doesn’t want to get rid of you?”

He smiled. “Not a problem. They always do.”

“That’s not something to brag about.”

His smile fell. “I wasn’t bragging. It’s a fact.”

They were silent then David said, “You shouldn’t be afraid.”

Jordan gripped his fork. There was that damn word again. Afraid. “Of what?”

“Marriage.”

“I’m not afraid of marriage,” he mumbled. “I just don’t like wives.”

“Is that supposed to make sense?”

Jordan leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Women are very clever. They don’t let us know about this transformation period they go through when you put a ring on their finger. It starts out slowly during the engagement. She becomes this pre-wedding banshee from hell, crying over lace tablecloths and napkins and screaming over whether you should have an ice sculpture of a swan or a rose.”

Jordan held a hand over his heart. “But you ignore this change because you know the wedding day is a special time for her and she’s under a lot of stress. Then you get married. The day when the engagement ring and the wedding ring meet. In the distance you can hear the door of your prison closing, but still you don’t know what lies ahead. You’ve bought into the fantasy that surrounds you, the lies you’ve been told. You look into her eyes and she still looks the same. She still looks like the woman you’ve been dating for over a year. Your girlfriend. Your sweet, sexy, loving girlfriend.” His hand fell to the table, rattling the dishes. “But the truth is your girlfriend is dead. Gone forever. You now have a wife.”

David shrugged. “So? Isn’t that the point of a wedding?”

“One day you’ll wake up, preferably after the honeymoon, it will be awkward otherwise, and you’ll see her looking at you. You won’t recognize the look at first because she’s never worn it before. However, you’ll know it’s not good.”

“How?”

“The hair on the back of your neck will itch. Suddenly, you’ll recognize it as the look your mother gave you when you did something wrong, but you weren’t sure what.”

David shivered. “I hated that look.”

“Exactly, and that’s when you’ll know.”

“Know what?”

“That she’s going to try and change you. She’s going to tell you how to wash dishes, clothes, take out the trash, what to wear, what to eat, how to shop. If you even glance at another woman she’ll think you’re on the verge of an affair. Once she has you suitably castrated—I mean domesticated—she’ll deliver the next blow.”

David scooped up his eggs, but they promptly dropped back to his plate. “Blow?”

Jordan sipped his coffee then set it down. “Yes, blow.” He hesitated. “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“Just say it.”

“If you even hint at wanting to start a family, she’ll accuse you of trying to stop her career, wanting to make her barefoot and pregnant and keeping her tied to the house. Don’t even try to explain that you can afford for her to be a stay-at-home mom. She’s an independent woman. She doesn’t need to be kept and offered an allowance from some chauvinistic, egotistic…”

David set his fork down, suppressing a grin. “You’re digressing.”

“Right. Anyway, if you do find a woman who won’t mind being a stay-at-home mother, you’re still in the danger zone.”

“What zone is that?”

“Resentment. You don’t even know you’ve stepped into it until it blows up in your face. One moment she’s a happy wife and mother. The next moment she blames you for all the ill in the world and hates you for looking down on her. For denying her a career of her own. She’s bored, she feels stifled and unappreciated for all the sacrifices she has made.” He cut his pancakes. “With those two choices in front of me, I’ve decided to stay single.”

David shook his head. “All women are not like that.”

“I agree. There are exceptions.”

“See?”

“They’re called lesbians.”

David shook his head again.

“You show me a happily married man and I’ll show you a woman with brass balls in her handbag.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You’ve never been married.” Jordan pointed his fork at him. “You still have time to dream. Go ahead and take the plunge. I already have and I don’t plan to again. I’d rather have a girlfriend than a wife. You get everything without the crap.”

“You’re paranoid.”

“Think of it as healthy skepticism. I’ve made a study of this and I have an over-fifty-percent divorce rate to back up my claim. Think about it.”

“I don’t want to think about it. There are women who make great wives.”

Jordan paused then nodded. “I can think of two women. One is of course your mother.”

David inclined his head. “Thank you.”

“The second is beautiful, sweet, loving and generous. I’d take her in an instant.”

“Why don’t you?”

“She’s married to my brother. Makes the situation a bit awkward.”

“There are other women out there. Your sister-in-law isn’t the only one.”

Jordan ignored him. “Unfortunately, Emma has one little flaw which would be the only reason I wouldn’t take her.”

“You just said you would marry her.”

“No, I said I would take her. I didn’t say I’d marry her.”

David sighed. “What’s her flaw? Besides the fact that she’s in love with your brother?”

“She takes too much crap. At times I wish she’d tell my brother to take a pole and put it somewhere uncomfortable.”

David laughed at the image. “She wouldn’t dare.”

“I know. I couldn’t marry a woman I’d take advantage of.”

“You’d take advantage of her?”

“I wouldn’t mean to, but come on. When a woman does everything you want her to, wouldn’t you?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

David paused then nodded. “Yeah, I’m lying.” He waved his fork. “So let me get this straight. You want a woman with her own business, who wants to start a family and who doesn’t take your crap, but who you can control?”

“Yep.”

“You’re right. She doesn’t exist.”

“That’s why I keep looking.”

“Which takes me right back to my point. You can’t commit to a woman. No one says you have to marry her, but dumping her—”

Jordan waved his fork.

“Having her dump you,” David corrected. “Is not natural. You need to know why you do it.”

“I don’t care why.”

“Your relationships with women are like an addiction.”

“No, they’re not.”

David sat back and studied him for a moment. “I bet you couldn’t go one month without a woman.”

“Why would I want to? Life is full of choices.”

David began to smile. “Four weeks.”

“I like my life.”

“One entire month. No sex and no new relationships.”

Jordan began to rest his elbows on the table then recognized there was no room. He folded his arms. “Are you offering a challenge?”

David’s smile grew. “You couldn’t do it.”

Jordan thought about Gail’s tears. Perhaps he should take a break. He held out his hand ready for the challenge. “You’re on. Just name your price.”

Twenty-four hours later he met the woman who could cost him three thousand dollars.

Chapter 4

“What time is it?” Simone asked, stretching in her chair.

Dawn yawned. “I don’t know.” She glanced at the plastic dishes and utensils on her desk. Outside a street light flickered over the two lone cars in the parking lot. She didn’t care how late it was. She planned to put together the perfect presentation package.

Simone hit a key on her laptop. “I still think the PowerPoint presentation is overdoing it a bit.”

“Just check the slides. I don’t want them too crowded. Mr. Taylor needs to know how competent we are.”

“It’s three o’clock in the morning.” Simone stood. “When is your appointment?”

“Around seven.”

Simone spun Dawn around in her swivel chair. “You need to sleep. You don’t want to go to the meeting with bags under your eyes.”

“Don’t worry.” Dawn turned back to her desk. “Lately, I haven’t needed much sleep.”

“Dawn, you’re a great consultant. You built one business, you’ll build another. Now it’s time to go home.”

“But I need to assess the other schools….”

“No.”

Dawn stared at her computer monitor. “We need this job.”

“But he can’t know that. You’ll need to be cool and calm.”

How could she be cool and calm? Dawn thought on the way home. This was her big chance, perhaps her only chance. A client like The Medical Institute could put her back on track. Soon she’d be able to afford a one-bedroom with a balcony, she’d be able to pay membership to a gym, and get her old life back. Taylor had no idea what this meant to her. He was probably at home sleeping without a care in the world.

The rich rarely had worries. She wondered what he was like. Was he handsome? He really didn’t have to be; he had a great voice. She didn’t know much about Jordan or the Taylors, but she did know that Charles Taylor had started the company. She had heard of a son named Ray, but never of Jordan. Why the change of successor?

She brushed the thought aside. Their family drama wasn’t her concern. Her number one goal was to impress Jordan Taylor and get the job.

At home Dawn opened her closet. She didn’t want to wear anything too severe or too casual. She had to project the right image. The more Taylor left to her the easier it would be. And the more credit she could claim. Her first goal was to get him to say “Yes.”

A high shrill pierced through Jordan’s peaceful slumber. He groaned and turned onto his side and pulled the covers over his head, but the ringing didn’t stop.

He grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

“Hello, Jordan,” a feminine voice said.

He liked the voice. Perhaps he was still dreaming. “Who is this?” He rubbed his eyes.

“It’s Maxine.”

His stomach twisted into knots; he became wide awake. He glanced at the clock: It read 4:30 a.m. “Do you know what time it is?”

“I knew I couldn’t get you otherwise.”

“This is not a good time.”

“When is a good time?”

“A day after never,” he grumbled then yawned.

“That’s not fair,” she said without anger. She kept her voice low. “Jordan, I need to see you.”

He sat up and rested his head back. “Why?”

“I have to discuss something that I can’t say over the phone. This is important to me and to you.”

He turned on the light and squinted at the glare. “To me?”

“Yes.”

His tone grew concerned. “Is someone ill?”

“I’ll tell you when we meet.”

He shut his eyes. “Maxine, you know I don’t like games.”

“Please, Jordan.”

He didn’t want to see her again. He still didn’t trust himself. “I don’t know.”

“Please.”

He held his head. “I shouldn’t.”

“But you will.”

Damn, she knew him too well. “It will have to be quick. I have an appointment at seven tomorrow or rather today for dinner. You could come before then…say, around five.”

“Fitting me in around appointments? Seems the tables have turned. Maybe you’ll understand my position now.”

“It won’t change anything. We’ll still be divorced.”

She paused then said, “I hear you’re the new head of the Institute. I wonder why Charles chose you.”

“He wanted to make everybody laugh.”

“If you need any business advice—”

“Right,” he cut in ready to get back to sleep.

“I’ll see you around five.”

“Maxine,” he said sinking under the covers. “This had better be good.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Jordan stared at Maxine in disbelief. He surged to his feet. “No way!”

Maxine sat on the couch and tucked her feet under her. She kept her classically beautiful face composed and maintained a level tone as though dealing with a child throwing a tantrum. “Jordan, just listen.”

He gestured to his ears. “I was listening. I can’t believe what I just heard. Actually, I hope I didn’t.”

“You’re being emotional.”

“As opposed to psychotic?” He threw up his hands. “I don’t believe this.”

Maxine swung her feet to the ground. “It’s a little favor.”

“I’d rather extract my own kidney.”

“I’m not asking for a kidney. I’m asking for a baby.”

“That’s nice. I hope you get one.”

“I want to have it with you. Where are you going?” she demanded when Jordan abruptly left the room.

“To get something to eat.”

She followed him to the kitchen. “I thought you said you had a dinner date.”

“It’s not a date. It’s an appointment.”

“I just saw you eat a sandwich.”

“I’ll still be able to eat dinner.” He grabbed an apple.

Maxine stared at him amazed. “I always swore you had a second stomach. How could a man eat so much and still look like you?”

“Good genes.” He waved his apple. “Which I’m not planning to share.”

“You wanted to once,” she said quietly.

“Then we should have had this conversation at that time.”

“I wasn’t ready then.”

“And I’m not ready now. Go to a sperm bank.”

Maxine hugged herself, her brown eyes pleading. “I want to know the father of my baby.”

He stared at her for a moment then turned away. “No.”

“Just think about it.”

“No.” He leaned against the fridge and kept his gaze on the ground. “The only way I’m going to have a baby is if I’m married to its mother, and since I don’t plan to marry again, that won’t happen.” He raised his gaze, his tone unyielding. “Understand?”

Maxine shivered. “Don’t look at me like that. That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Well, it is me.”

“It didn’t used to be. We both know how much you want kids. You can’t deny it. I know you better than anyone. I know how much you wanted a family.”

He smiled cruelly. “Yes, and we know how much you cared.”

She blinked back tears. “I said I wasn’t ready.”

Jordan pushed himself from the fridge. “No, you married the wrong son,” he said in an ugly tone. “You should have married the one that was legitimate. That would have given you better business connections. The one that would have put you in the right circles.”

Maxine widened her eyes, astonished by the accusation. “I didn’t marry you because of who your father was.”

He shrugged. “It didn’t hurt being Mrs. Jordan Taylor. It got doors opened and helped with the popularity of your boutique. But running a successful boutique wasn’t enough. You had to run me too.”

“I wanted you to improve yourself. You had to do something with your life.”

“I was doing something. I was living it.”

“You were traveling and volunteering your time at that swim center.”

“Why not? I liked it. I liked the hours and I liked the kids. I liked doing exactly what I wanted.”

“Do you think being a CEO will give you time to do what you used to?”

“I’ll make it suit me, not the other way around.”

“Life isn’t like that. You have to fit in.”

“Why try? I’m worth more than your three boutiques combined.”

“And you didn’t earn a cent of it,” she spat out.

He nodded, then said in a soft voice, “Yes, and you still resent that.”

“I resent a man who could live for nothing else but pleasure when other people struggle.”

“You resent me, yet you still want to have a child with me?”

“Yes. Because I know you’ll make a great father.”

Jordan winced as though she’d struck him then an unreadable look crossed his face. “No.”

“You don’t want to get married,” she pressed. “But I know you want to be a father. It could work out for both of us.”

“My parents weren’t married. It might have suited them but it made my life hell. I won’t subject my kid to that. I can’t believe you’re asking me to do that. Me of all people. I know what it’s like to be part of a bargain. To be a piece in a game. My mother made my father pay for my existence. You’re right, I didn’t earn a cent of my money. I got a nice sum and made wise investments and I don’t deserve any of it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“There are a lot of things you don’t have to say.”

“If you do this for me, I won’t ask you for anything more.”

Jordan tossed the apple away and grabbed a banana. “No.”

Maxine sighed. “Stop fooling yourself. You’ll marry again. You can’t stand being alone.” She placed the brochure on the table. “Think about it.” She touched his cheek. He moved away. “Think about what you’re saying no to. It may be your only chance.”

Jordan rested his forehead against the door after she left. A baby. Damn, why now when she knew how much he’d wanted it then? How he’d wanted a wife and child and home life he’d never had. He shook his head. It was too late now. He didn’t want anything to do with her or any woman. Not in that way. He wouldn’t be that vulnerable again. He moved away from the door. The conversation never happened. The issue was over. No more women. Just business.

Over an hour later Jordan looked at his crooked tie in the mirror and scowled at his reflection. Why couldn’t he get this right? It was such a simple task; men around the county, heck around the world, did it every day. Why was it so difficult for him? He undid it and tried again; then the doorbell rang.

He glanced at his watch and scowled. One thing he disliked more than ties were appointments that arrived twenty minutes early. He grabbed the two ends of his tie and answered the door.

“Hi, I’m Dawn Ajani.”

Jordan stared as though he’d been punched in the gut. She was all wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be that attractive. She had the proud dominant cheekbones of a West African heritage that made him think of desert winds, the heat of a blazing summer storm and the cooling rain that soon followed. She looked like a woman who could start a fire in a man and easily put it out. This was not good. He shook his head, feeling a little dizzy. Business. He had to think business.

And she looked ready for business dressed in a full gray pinstripe suit with a tie. Strangely, it made her figure appear more feminine.

“Nice tie,” he said, then mentally kicked himself.

She smiled, he swallowed. She was even prettier when she smiled—bright, real, genuine. He shifted and coughed knowing he was staring.

“Thank you. I know it’s not the trend, but I think the look suits me. Is it safe to assume you’re Jordan Taylor?”

“Yes.”

She held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He quickly shook her hand then took a step back. He had to keep his distance. “Come in. Please take your shoes off.” Along the foyer hallway, he had his shoes neatly placed in a row.

She slipped out of her shoes, left her briefcase by the door and headed to the living room. “I’m sorry I’m so early. I’d set my watch fast and forgot. However, I’d rather be early than tardy. Don’t you agree?”

Jordan opened his mouth to reply, but she continued. “It’s much better not to keep someone waiting. It shows good manners.” She abruptly stopped and turned, Jordan crashed into her. They fell against the wall. He jumped back before he began to enjoy her softness beneath him.

“Sorry,” she said.

He grunted.

“I just wanted to say that I see you’re not completely ready so I’ll just sit here until you are. Rushing people because you’re early is equally as bad manners as being late. Don’t let me keep you. I know how to entertain myself. And you don’t have to worry, I won’t snoop. I know how upsetting it is to have people who snoop.”

Jordan stared at her.

She frowned. “Is something wrong?”

He flashed a look of mock surprise. “Oh, you mean I’m allowed to speak?”

Embarrassed, she cupped her face with both hands, looking up at him with a wide-eyed look. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to go on like that. It’s just sometimes I get on a topic and my mouth moves until the topic is finished.”

“So—”

“Fortunately, I’m learning to listen more. I’m an excellent listener. In my field, it helps to make sure that my clients feel that their concerns are being addressed. I can assure you, Mr. Taylor, that you can feel confident that all your ideas, suggestions, concerns or whatever else will be heard.”

“Ms.—”

“I can’t tell you how excited I am by your proposal. I was able to flesh out many of your ideas. I think it’s great that the Institute has selected a new president to give it a new direction. I believe that this endeavor is adventurous, though extremely ambitious, but…” She paused and drew her brows together concerned. “Mr. Taylor, if you’re not careful you’ll strangle yourself with that tie.”

Jordan loosened his grip. “For a brief moment that had been my intention,” he said gravely.

“Why?”

“I was hoping that if I passed out you would stop talking.”

She covered her mouth then let her hand fall. “Again, I apologize. I—” He shot her a glance; she bit her lip. “I’ll stop.” She made a motion of zipping her lips closed.

“Good. May we get down to business?”

She nodded.

“Let me get my jacket.” He disappeared before she could reply. He went into the bathroom and shut the door. He stared at his reflection and began to arrange his tie.

“She’s not my type,” he told himself. “I don’t like women who talk too much and I don’t like pushy women. She’s both. That means I’m not attracted to her. I’m just excited about her ideas. I don’t care that she’s good-looking. That I’m thinking what she’s like not suited up. I am not interested.” He took a deep breath then left the bathroom. He saw Dawn on the ground putting things in a plastic bag.

“What are you doing?”

She glanced up. “Sorry, I knocked it over.” She gestured to the hall table. “I wasn’t snooping.” She picked up a box of hair dye. “You have gray hair already?” she asked, surprised.

“No.” He took the box from her and the plastic bag with other items he had purchased from the drugstore, the night before.

She stood. “Then why dye your hair? What color is it?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I’m curious.”

He shrugged.

She gave him a flirtatious look. “There are ways of finding out.”

“Well, that’s one way you won’t find out.”

She lowered her gaze, embarrassed; Jordan fought a smile. “Right of course,” she said.

He opened the closet and grabbed a coat. “The restaurant is a few blocks from here.”

“Okay. I’ll give you more time to get ready.”

He closed the closet. “I am ready.”

“Um, your tie is crooked. Would you like me to fix it?”

No. He didn’t want her touching him. He yanked off his tie, tossed it on the hall table and opened the door. With that eloquent answer she followed him outside.

Chapter 5

He was a riddle set to music, Dawn thought as she sat in front of Taylor at the Little Tavern Greek restaurant. Jazz? No. There was no unrestraint or animation to him. Classical wouldn’t suit either. There was too much soul burning beneath the surface. Country? He was certainly a transplant to the Washington Metropolitan area. He had a slow, thoughtful manner, a definite contrast to the fast pace of the city, and a hint of a carefully tempered southern drawl. But he wasn’t that nor rock or R&B.

She couldn’t pinpoint him. Dawn continued to study him behind her menu; she’d been sneaking glances at him since they’d first met. Had he not been a man, she would have called him beautiful, but his contradictions got in the way of such a simple description. Everything looked dwarfed around him. The chair he was sitting in looked like a toy, yet he moved with grace. He had a thin top lip as though drawn by a ruler, but his bottom lip was full and sensuous. She wondered if that feature annoyed him.

His eyes were a surprise. When his gaze first fell on her face she’d taken an involuntary step back. She had expected dark-brown eyes, but his were light-brown. They looked the color of biscuits just pulled out of the oven. However, they didn’t reveal much. Not warmth or coldness—nothing. She couldn’t say the same for his voice. It betrayed a number of emotions in one word. That’s when she knew how to describe him. He was an opera, bold, majestic, and enthralling.

She moved her gaze from his face to admire her surroundings. Large mirrors in gilded gold frames, hung on blue brocade wallpaper, reminiscent of an old Victorian mansion. Miniature votive candles were strategically placed next to the white china, and gold leaf cutlery was set on white linen tablecloths. In the middle of the table, fresh pink roses added a delightful fragrance. He had great taste in restaurants. Unfortunately, all she could think of at that moment was that the dinner was going to be a huge payment on her credit card.

“Are you ready to order?” Jordan asked.

Dawn returned her gaze to the menu. “I’m still looking.”

“Take your time. Do you mind if I order?”

“No. Go right ahead.”

He turned to the waiter and placed his order. Dawn listened with interest then disbelief as he ordered two appetizers, an entrée with three side dishes and dessert. “Bring it all at once,” he said, closing the menu with a snap. He looked at Dawn and frowned. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes.” She hastily glanced down at her menu. She didn’t know what she was looking at. The only words that looked familiar were gyro and moussaka. She ran her hand down the selection of choices, pretending to know what she was doing. She didn’t want to spend money on something she couldn’t eat.

“Should I come back?” the waiter asked.

Dawn turned a page. “Umm…”

“I think you should get the pastitsio,” Jordan said. “Do you like pasta?”

She looked at him relieved. “Yes, that’s right. I’ll have the pas…that.” She handed the waiter the menu and watched him leave. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Dawn wrung the napkin in her lap. Now that they had placed their orders she didn’t know what to say. She wanted to tease him about his large request, but he didn’t look the type that took teasing well. Instead she looked at the tablecloth until she could see the fine stitching.

She had to concentrate. He was a potential client. She wouldn’t think of him as a man. She looked up from the table and saw him glancing at a couple smiling at their baby.

“Do you know them?” she asked surprised by his intense look.

He shifted his gaze to her, and Dawn gripped her hands in her lap wondering when she’d get used to his piercing stare. “No. Why?”

She shrugged. “Just curious.”

He glanced at the couple again. Dawn watched amazed as a cool red color washed over his face.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

“You look a little flushed. If you need them to turn down the temperature I’m sure they would—”

His gaze stopped her. “I’m fine.” He glanced at the couple again.

She swallowed her tea. “They have a cute baby.”

His eyes met hers. “Yes,” he said in a neutral tone. “Do you like children?”

She clumsily set her teacup down. “Yes.”

“Planning on having any?”

“Not any time soon.”

“You can’t wait forever,” he said with an ironic twist to his words. “You wouldn’t want to suddenly get desperate.”

“No.”

He leaned back and watched her. “I’m sure that right now your career comes first. A husband and baby would get in the way.”

Dawn frowned, unnerved by the bitterness she detected in his voice. “I assure you, that if the right man comes along he wouldn’t be in my way and we’d raise the child together. Many couples do that.”

“Yes, but nowadays most women don’t need a husband, right? You can make your own money and rear your own kids. You just need the sperm and then you’re on your way. Men are disposable.”

She sipped her tea.

He stared at her for a moment until she squirmed in her seat. “No reply?” he said. “Aren’t you going to defend your sex?”

“Why reply to someone who has already made up his mind?”

He looked at her, surprised, then embarrassed. “You’re right. I apologize.” He folded his arms. “So, who else have you worked with?”

“David Schelling.”

“Who?”

“My dentist. His practice was failing until I helped him.”

“I see.”

“I also worked with the Tantland Pet Hotel. You can trust me to help you.”

“I want to bring The Medical Institute up to current standards. Introduce the latest technologies, and set it apart. I want it to be known for excellence.”

Dawn readied herself. This was the moment she had been waiting for. She was prepared. She moved her bread dish aside, and set her portfolio on the table and opened it. She handed Jordan a color brochure and business card. “With my help I can make that dream a reality. As a consultant, what I do first is to meet with you to discuss what you want done. During this initial meeting, I will evaluate and assess what you have currently, and what changes, and or modifications will need to be done, in order to achieve your intended goal.

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