The Highest Bidder (Books 1-6)
Gilded Secrets
Maureen Child
Exquisite Acquisitions
Charlene Sands
A Silken Seduction
Yvonne Lindsay
A Precious Inheritance
Paula Roe
The Rogue’s Fortune
Cat Schield
A Golden Betrayal
Barbara Dunlop

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Gilded Secrets

“So, what are you doing here?”

“I work here,” Vance said, one corner of his mouth lifting.

Brilliant, Charlie. Just brilliant. “Yes, but you usually don’t come to the auctions.”

He shrugged. “I wanted to see you.”

“You see me every day.” Nerves plucked at her insides and Charlie fought to keep from showing them.

“Yeah, but this way’s different,” he said. “We’re not in the office. We’re more like … friends.”

She laughed and took a sip of her water. “Friends?”

“Something wrong with that?”

Oh, if he only knew. They weren’t friends. Friends didn’t make friends feel all hot and flustered and nervous. Friends didn’t inspire dreams that had her waking up in the middle of the night reaching out for him. And friends most certainly didn’t spy on each other—or have the power to fire each other, for that matter.

“I guess not,” she said, because she could hardly repeat everything that had just raced through her mind.

“Good. Because I’d like to take my ‘friend’ out to dinner tonight.”

“What?”

About the Author

MAUREEN CHILD is a California native who loves to travel. Every chance they get, she and her husband take off on another research trip. An author of more than sixty books, Maureen loves a happy ending and still swears that she has the best job in the world. She lives in Southern California with her husband, two children and a Golden Retriever with delusions of grandeur. Visit Maureen’s website: www.maureenchild.com

To the five talented, amazing women I was lucky enough to work with on this continuity. Thanks to you all for making the work so much fun!

One

Vance Waverly stood outside the auction house that bore his name and stared up at the impressive facade. The old building had had a face-lift or two over the past 150 years, but the heart of it remained. A structure dedicated to showcasing the beautiful, the historical, the unique.

He smiled to himself, letting his gaze slide across the “lucky” seven stories. At street level, twin cypress trees, trained into spirals, stood silent sentinel at the doorway. Windowpanes glittered in the early-summer light. Black, wrought-iron railings framed a second-story balcony. Gray stone gave the building its aura of dignity and the wide, arched window above the double front doors was etched with a single word—Waverly.

A glimmer of pride rose up inside Vance as he stared at the world his great-great uncle, Windham Waverly, had created. The long-dead man had ensured his own version of immortality by leaving behind the auction house that carried an illustrious reputation around the world.

And Vance was one of the last remaining Waverlys. So he had a proprietary interest in seeing that the auction house remained at the top of its game. As a senior board member, he made certain that he was involved in everything from the layout of the catalog to hunting down pieces worthy of being auctioned at Waverly’s. This place was more his home than his luxury condo overlooking the Hudson River. The condo was where he slept.

Waverly’s was where he lived.

“Yo, buddy!” a voice shouted from behind him. “You gonna be there all day or what?”

Vance turned to see a FedEx driver, packages stacked on the dolly he was balancing, waiting impatiently behind him. Vance stepped out of the way and let the man pass.

Before slipping into Waverly’s, the driver muttered, “People think they own the damn sidewalks.”

“Gotta love New York,” Vance muttered.

“Morning.”

Vance glanced to his right and watched as his half brother walked up to meet him. Rarely in New York, Roark had flown in for a meeting with some of his contacts. He was as tall as Vance, over six feet, with brown hair and green eyes. Not much of a family resemblance, but then, the brothers only shared a father. And until five years ago, when their father, Edward Waverly, died, Vance hadn’t even known Roark existed.

In those five years, they had built up a solid friendship, and Vance was grateful—even though Roark insisted on keeping their family ties a secret. Roark still wasn’t convinced that Edward Waverly had actually been his father. But the connection was enough to keep him at Waverly’s. There was no proof beyond the letter Edward had left with his will. It was enough for Vance, but he could respect his brother’s wishes.

“Thanks for meeting me,” Vance said with a nod.

“Better be important,” Roark said, falling into step beside Vance as they walked past Waverly’s toward a small café on the corner. “Late night and I’m not officially awake yet.”

He was wearing dark glasses against the sunlight, a worn brown leather jacket, T-shirt, jeans and boots. For a second, Vance envied his brother. He’d rather be in jeans himself, but his suit and tie were what was expected at Waverly’s. And Vance always did the right thing.

“Yeah,” he said as they claimed an outside table beneath a cheerfully striped umbrella. “It’s important. Or it could be.”

“Intriguing.” Roark turned his coffee cup over at the same time Vance did and they both waited for the waitress to fill the cups and take their orders before speaking again. “So tell me.”

Vance cupped the heavy porcelain mug between his palms and studied the black surface of his coffee for a long minute while he gathered his thoughts. He wasn’t a man who usually paid attention to gossip or rumor. He had no patience for those who did, either. But when it concerned Waverly’s, he couldn’t take a chance.

“Have you heard any talk about Ann?”

“Ann Richardson?” Roark asked. “Our CEO?”

“Yes, that Ann,” Vance muttered. Seriously, how many Anns did they know?

Roark pulled his sunglasses off and set them onto the table. He took a quick look around, at the people passing on the tree-lined sidewalk, at the other customers sitting at tables. “What kind of talk?”

“Specifically? About her and Dalton Rothschild. You know, the head of Rothschild auction house? Our main competitor?”

Roark just stared at him for a beat or two, then shook his head. “No way.”

“I don’t want to believe it, either,” Vance admitted.

The CEO of Waverly’s, Ann Richardson was brilliant at her job. Smart, capable, she had worked her way up to the top position in the firm, becoming the youngest person ever—male or female—to head an auction house of its size and scope.

Roark sat back in his chair and shook his head firmly. “What have you heard?”

“Tracy called me last night to give me a heads-up about a column that’s appearing in today’s Post.”

“Tracy.” Roark frowned, then nodded. “Tracy Bennett. The reporter you dated last year.”

“Yeah. She says the ‘story’ breaks today.”

“What story?”

“That Ann had an affair with Dalton.”

“Ann’s too smart to fall for Dalton’s line of BS.” Roark dismissed the idea out of hand.

Vance would like to. But in his experience, people made stupid decisions all the time. They usually blamed “love” for those bad choices, but the truth was, love was just the excuse to do whatever the hell they wanted to do. Love was a fable sold by greeting card companies and bridal fairs.

“I agree,” he said. “But if there is something between them—”

Roark whistled. “What can we do about any of it?”

“Not much. I’ll talk to Ann to let her know about this article that’s coming out.”

“And?”

“And,” Vance said, gaze fixed on his brother, “I want you to keep your eyes and ears open. I trust Ann, but I damn sure don’t trust Dalton. Dalton’s always wanted Waverly’s out of the way. If he can’t buy us out, he’ll try a takeover—or try to bury us.” Vance took a sip of his coffee and narrowed his gaze on Roark. “We’re not going to let that happen.”

“Good morning, Mr. Waverly. I’ve got your coffee and the week’s agenda ready for you. Oh! And the invitation to Senator Crane’s garden party arrived by messenger late yesterday after you’d left.”

Vance stopped in the doorway to his office and stared at his new assistant. Charlotte Potter was petite and curvy, with long, wavy blond hair restrained by a ponytail at the base of her neck. She had vivid blue eyes, full lips on a mouth that was rarely quiet and she seemed to be in constant motion.

He’d hired her as a favor to a retiring board member who had developed a fondness for her when she’d been his assistant. But Charlotte had only been with Vance a week now and he knew it wasn’t going to work out.

She was too young, too pretty and too … She turned away to bend down and open the bottom drawer of the wood-grain file cabinet and he shook his head. Vance’s gaze locked on the curve of her behind in the sleek black slacks she wore. Charlotte was too everything.

When she stood up, producing a thick, linen envelope for him, he told himself that he should simply pawn her services off on someone else in the company. He couldn’t exactly fire her for being a distraction, but he sure as hell resented it.

Politically incorrect or not, Vance preferred his assistants to be either matronly or male.

His former assistant, Claire, had retired at sixty-five. She was cool, unflappable and notoriously anal about her workspace. There had never been so much as a pen out of place on her desk. Vance had felt confident that Claire was on top of everything.

Charlotte, on the other hand … He scowled at the ficus tree in the corner, the ferns on the shelf closest to the window and the deep-purple African violets on the corner of her desk. There were framed photos taking up space on her desk as well, though he hadn’t looked at them too closely; he hadn’t taken the time to do much more than notice the clutter.

Her pens were kept in a mug shaped like a New York Jets football helmet and there was a dish of M&M’s beside her phone. Clearly, he never should have done that favor. No good deed goes unpunished, his father had often said. Turned out, the old man was right.

Vance didn’t want distractions in the office under the best of circumstances. And now, with possible trouble looming with Rothschild, he wanted it even less—and if that made him a damn chauvinist, so be it.

As one of the last Waverlys associated with the auction house, Vance liked keeping his business hours devoted to business. And a pretty woman was not conducive to concentration.

“Thanks, Charlotte,” he said, heading for his office. “Hold my calls until after the board meeting.”

“I will. Oh, and call me Charlie,” she said brightly.

Vance stopped, looked back over his shoulder at her and was nearly blinded by her brilliant smile. She went back to her desk and began flipping through the stack of mail. The long sweep of her hair fell over one shoulder and lay across her breast. Something inside him fisted uncomfortably. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but the woman was impossible to ignore.

Scowling to himself, he leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb and sipped at the coffee she’d given him. Watching her, he realized she was humming again as she had all last week. Off-key humming. Tone-deaf off-key.

He shook his head wearily. He had calls to make to Waverly’s London office, to check on upcoming auctions there. A corner of his mind was still working over the rumors about Ann and what that could mean to the auction house. And he was in no mood for the board meeting scheduled for that afternoon.

Charlotte straightened up, turned around and gasped, slapping one hand to her chest as if to hold her heart in place. Then she laughed shortly and shook her head. “You scared me for a second. I thought you had gone to your office.”

He should have. Instead, he’d been “distracted.” Not good. Frowning at his own wayward thoughts, he asked, “Did you have a chance to type up the agenda for today’s meeting? I want to make some new notes before I meet with the board.”

“Of course.” She walked to her desk and plucked a file folder from a stack of similar ones. She handed it to him. “Along with the meeting agenda, I printed out the list you made of the private collections coming up for bid in the next few weeks.”

He opened the folder, noting the neatly presented agenda with his handwritten notes now added in bold typeface. There were a few pages behind the first and he idly flipped through them, stopping at the last one. “What’s this?”

“Oh.” She smiled. “The next catalog layout looked a little crowded, so I adjusted a couple of the pictures and …”

He glanced at the work she’d done and had to admit it looked much better than it had before. The Ming Dynasty vases were each spotlighted now against a softly lit background, rather than lumped into a section that buried their distinctive beauty.

“I know I shouldn’t have, but—”

“You did a good job,” he said, closing the folder and looking up into her soft blue eyes.

“Really?” She gave him a bright smile. “Thank you. That’s great. I was a little nervous about taking that on myself, I can tell you. It’s just that this job is very important to me and I want to do it well.”

An unfamiliar twinge of guilt poked at Vance as he read the eagerness in her gaze. She fairly vibrated with the thrill of her new job. Which only made him feel worse for regretting taking her on in the first place.

So maybe he’d give this a shot. All he had to do was stop noticing Charlotte as a woman.

But one quick look up and down her petite, curvy figure shut down that idea.

The phone rang and she reached for it. “Vance Waverly’s office.”

Her voice was low, seductive. Or maybe that was just his impression, he chided himself.

“Please hold,” she said and hit the button on her phone. When she turned to him, Charlotte said, “It’s Derek Stone, calling from the London office.”

“Oh, good.” Grateful for the excuse to leave Charlotte and get back to work, Vance took the folder and stepped into his office. “Put him through, please, Charlotte. And after this call, hold all the others.”

“Absolutely, Mr. Waverly,” she said.

Vance closed the door then strode across the room to his desk, barely noticing the thud of his footsteps against the gleaming wooden floor. Paintings by undiscovered artists hung alongside a couple of old masters on the ivory walls. A long couch hugged one wall, with a low-slung table and two chairs opposite it. A wall of windows stood behind his desk, offering a view of Madison Avenue and the always-busy city of Manhattan.

Reaching for his phone, he turned his back on the view, dropped into his chair and said, “Derek. Good to talk to you.”

Completely drained, Charlie blew out a relieved breath and practically crawled back to her desk. The bright, cheerful smile on her face felt brittle enough to crack and she hoped to heaven that Vance Waverly hadn’t sensed just how nervous she was around him.

“Does he really have to smell so good?” she muttered as she fell into her chair and propped her elbows on the desk. Cupping her face in her palms, she told herself to get a grip.

Her hormones didn’t listen, sadly, and continued their happy little dance of excitement. This happened every time she got close to Vance Waverly and it was damn humiliating. How could she be so attracted to a boss who terrified half the people in this building?

But there it was. He was tall and broad-shouldered with dark brown hair that always looked a little tousled. His brown eyes had flecks of gold in them and his mouth almost never curved in a smile. He was all business and she had the distinct feeling that he was watching her closely, looking for any excuse he could find to fire her.

Which she was not going to allow to happen.

This job was the most important thing she had going for her. Well, she thought, sliding a glance at the photo of the smiling toddler on her desk, the second most important thing. But professionally, it was no contest. Working for Vance Waverly, a senior board member, was the chance of a lifetime and she wasn’t going to lose it.

Taking a breath, Charlie nodded and sat up straight. She glanced at the photo of her son, Jake, again, and reminded herself that she might have been hired as a favor to an old friend, but she had the qualifications to do this job brilliantly. She was going to stay positive and upbeat and cheerful if it killed her.

When her phone rang, she grabbed it quickly. “Vance Waverly’s office.”

“How’s it going?” a familiar, feminine voice asked in a rush.

Charlie shot a quick look at the closed door to her boss’s office as if to make sure he was locked away and oblivious to this phone call. “So far so good,” she said.

“What did he think of your ideas for the catalog layout?”

“You were right, Katie,” she said, imagining her friend down in Accounting grinning in response. Charlie had worked on the new layout for the catalog in secret, indulging herself with how she would have done things. Katie was the one who suggested she actually show her ideas to Vance. “He said I did a good job.”

“See? Told you.” Katie was typing as she talked; Charlie heard her fingers tapping wildly against the keys. “I knew he’d like what you did. He’s a smart guy. He’s bound to notice that you’re doing a terrific job.”

“In the last week, mostly he’s just been watching me, as if he’s waiting for me to screw up,” Charlie told her, with another glance at her baby son’s smiling face.

“Maybe he’s just watching you because you’re gorgeous.”

“I don’t think so.” Though that thought sent a skittering of something delicious whipping through her. Instantly, though, she poured metaphorical ice water on those feelings. She wasn’t here for a date. She was here to build a better life for her and her son. And this new job with the lovely raise was a big part of her grand plan. All she had to do was convince her new boss that she was indispensable.

“Have you looked in the mirror lately?” Katie countered. “Trust me, if I was playing for the other team, even I would hit on you.”

Charlie laughed at the very idea. Katie was juggling so many men she hardly had a moment to herself. But the truth was, Katie had a point. Most people looked at Charlie—blond hair, big blue eyes and boobs any Barbie doll would be proud of, and immediately came to the conclusion that she didn’t have a brain in her head. She’d spent most of her life proving people wrong.

The one time she had gone with her heart instead of her head …

“He’s not like that,” Charlie said with another look at his closed door.

“Honey, all men are ‘like that.’”

Charlie ignored that and lowered her voice. “I know he only hired me as a favor to Quentin.”

“So what? Who cares why he hired you, Charlie?” The sounds of typing stopped abruptly and Katie’s voice came across the phone loud and clear. “It doesn’t matter how you got there. The point is, the job is yours now. And you’re already proving that you’re perfect for it.”

“Thanks,” Charlie said. “Now, I’m going to do some perfect filing. Talk to you later.”

When she hung up, Charlie was still smiling.

Two

Two hours later, Vance crumpled the newspaper and tossed it aside. Fury rose up inside him but he quickly reined it in. Just as Tracy had promised, the story about a possible affair between Ann Richardson and Dalton Rothschild was on page twenty-six. For a second, Vance told himself that since the so-called story was buried in a small column on a page filled with ads, it might get ignored.

But the chances of that were actually slim to none. There was nothing people liked better than the makings of a good scandal and this one would be talked about for weeks. It wasn’t just the rumors of an affair, but the possibility of collusion that had him worried. He hoped to hell there was nothing to it, because if there was, they were looking at official investigations, charges—possibly even the destruction of Waverly’s.

He snatched up his phone, punched in a number and waited for it to be answered. When it was, he snapped, “Dammit, Tracy.”

“Vance, not my fault,” the woman on the other end said matter-of-factly. “My editor got a tip and we acted on it. At least I gave you a heads-up.”

“Yeah, for all the good that does me.” Tracy had called him late last night. Not much of a warning system, and he had a feeling she had only done it because she wanted to give him a little extra time to stew over it.

He stood up and turned to stare out at the city streets. Manhattan was sweltering under a vicious summer sun. Tourists strolled along Madison Avenue, getting buffeted by the quicker-moving locals who had places to go and didn’t want to linger in the heat.

“Is there any proof of this story?”

“You know I can’t answer that.”

“Fine. But if you have any other ‘tips’ let me know before you go to print, will you?”

“No promises,” she snapped. Then she asked, “Sound familiar?” just before she hung up.

Vance winced, knowing full well she shouldn’t be telling him a damn thing. A year ago, Tracy had been in his bed for a couple of months and when he’d told her it was over, he had reminded her that he’d gone into the affair warning her of “no promises.”

It was the same warning he gave every woman who entered his life. He wasn’t looking for long-term. He’d seen what his mother’s and older sister’s deaths had done to his father. Hell, it had crippled the man, leaving him a broken, empty shell. If love was that powerful, then Vance wanted nothing to do with it. As for having a family of his own? He’d never even been tempted. So, since he had zero interest in finding a wife, for God’s sake, why bother pretending anything different? Wasn’t it better to be honest with a woman up front?

He shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts, since they really had nothing to do with the current situation anyway.

Setting the phone back in its cradle, Vance stuffed his hands into his pockets and shook his head. Waverly’s was all he had and damn if he’d lose it. His family had built this place and, as one of the last Waverlys still standing, he would do whatever was necessary to save it.

Turning, he buzzed the intercom. “Charlie, would you come in here, please?”

A second or two later, his door opened and she was standing in the doorway. Her long blond hair hung over one shoulder and her wide blue eyes were fixed on him. Once again, Vance felt that punch of something hot hit his system and he was forced to deliberately quash it.

“Is there a problem?”

“You could say that,” Vance muttered and waved her inside. He pointed at the couch on the far wall and said, “Have a seat.”

She did and he noticed the wary expression on her face.

“Relax,” he said, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. “I’m not firing you.”

She let out a breath and gave him a smile. “Good to know. What can I do for you, then?”

Bracing his forearms on his knees, Vance looked into her eyes and said, “You can tell me everything you’ve heard lately about Ann Richardson.”

“Excuse me?”

“If there’s been talk, I want to know about it,” he told her flatly. “You must have heard about the article in the paper.”

Her eyes shifted away from him for a second before returning to meet his stare. “The phone’s been ringing for the last half hour with people wanting to talk to you.”

“Perfect,” he muttered. “Who?”

“I’ve got a stack of messages on my desk, but mainly, it’s the other board members and then there were a couple of reporters. Also, a cable business network wants an interview.”

He fell back against the sofa cushion and shook his head again. “This is going to get much worse before it’s over.” He had to talk to Ann. Figure out what was going on and the best way to mount a defense. His gaze speared into Charlie’s.

“I know people are talking about this here in the company. What have you heard?”

She frowned at him. “I don’t listen to gossip.”

“Ordinarily, a good thing. Right now, I need to know what people in the building are saying.”

She took a long, slow breath and looked as if she were having an internal argument with herself on whether or not to answer him. Briefly, Vance considered making that request an order, but discounted that notion. He didn’t want to make her defensive and careful about what she said. He needed as much information as he could get.

She bit into her bottom lip and finally blurted out, “People are worried. They’re afraid Waverly’s will be shut down, that they’re going to lose their jobs. Frankly, I’m a little worried, too. The article mentioned possible collusion—”

“Yeah, I know it did,” he muttered.

“What does Ms. Richardson say?”

Vance scowled. “I haven’t spoken to her about it yet. I got a tip about the article coming out today, but not in time to do anything about it. I expect it will be a topic of conversation during the board meeting, though.”

“What do you think is going on?” she asked and he realized that by asking her opinion on what was happening in Waverly’s, he’d opened a door between them.

A week ago, she would have been too skittish, too nervous to ask him that. Now, though, things had apparently changed. Oddly, he didn’t mind. She was a good listener and it was nice to be able to talk this out with someone who knew what was going on, yet didn’t have a major stake in the outcome.

“I don’t know,” he admitted and that cost him. Vance didn’t like not having the answers. He wasn’t accustomed to being in the dark. He preferred being on top of any given situation. Knowing the answers before the questions were asked. In this case, though, all he had to go on were his gut instincts. “I like Ann. She’s always struck me as a sensible, honest woman. She’s been good for Waverly’s …”

“But?”

One corner of his mouth lifted. Not just a good listener, but insightful, too, hearing the hesitation in his voice.

“But the truth is, I don’t know her very well.” He leaned back against the couch. “No one here does. She does her job, but keeps to herself.”

“There’s a lot of that going around,” she murmured.

Cocking his head, he asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She stiffened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—I only meant that you—Well, you’re pretty much a loner, too, and … Oh, just fire me and get it over with.”

For the first time in longer than he cared to admit, Vance laughed. He saw the surprise on her face and knew it was echoed on his own features. For a week, he’d been regretting hiring Charlotte Potter. Right at that moment, he couldn’t remember why. She was smart, competent and she made him laugh.

If only she didn’t smell so good.

“As I said,” he told her, “I’m not going to fire you.”

Still, irritated by his own thoughts, by the flicker of something hot bristling inside him, Vance shut it all down. He pushed up from the couch and purposely made his voice brisk and businesslike. Back on firm footing, boss to assistant. “If you do hear anything, I want you to tell me immediately.”

Charlie slowly rose to her feet and lifted her chin in a defiant tilt. “I won’t spy on my friends.”

She went up another notch in his estimation. One thing Vance could admire was loyalty. “I’m not asking you to spy,” he pointed out. “Just to listen.”

“I can do that.”

“Good.” He opened the closet door, pulled out his suit coat and slipped it on. “I’m leaving for the board meeting now.” He checked the gold watch on his left wrist. He’d be late if he didn’t leave right away, and Vance Waverly was never late for anything.

“I should be back by four—have those condition reports on the Ming vases ready for me when I get back.”

“Yes, sir.”

He heard her sharp reply, and for a second, regretted the fact that she was doing much as he was—shifting back into business mode. Then the regret dropped away. Better this way. Easier. And far more logical. He didn’t look back as he stalked from his office, headed for the boardroom and the meeting that would no doubt shake up a few things at Waverly’s.

Charlie let out a breath she hadn’t even been aware she was holding. For a few brief moments, she and Vance had actually been talking like … friends. She’d had a chance at a tiny peek at the man behind the cool facade that usually shrouded him.

And that one peek had completely intrigued her and made her want more. So not a good thing, Charlie told herself firmly. Wanting more with Vance Waverly made as much sense as wanting to spend the afternoon in Paris. And had as much chance of happening.

Nope. He was boss. She was assistant. And never the twain would meet or mingle or anything else for that matter. Frowning to herself, Charlie walked back to her desk. She had been completely off men for more than two years. Hadn’t been attracted to one. Hadn’t been so much as tempted by the thought of romance. Ever since she had made the giant mistake of trusting the wrong man.

But now, for the first time in way too long, she had felt that little tingle of … appreciation? Interest?

“And just like before,” she muttered in disgust, “you picked exactly the wrong man.” Wrong for different reasons, of course, but still …

No, she wouldn’t jeopardize her job, her newfound security, for a passing flirtation. No good could come of that. So Charlie reined in her hormones and then tied them down nice and tight. She didn’t need to be indulging in any fantasies about her boss, for heaven’s sake. What she needed to be doing was impressing the hell out of him—as she’d spent the past week doing—so she could keep this job.

Every step up the ladder was a good one. Charlie had plans. She wouldn’t always be an assistant. She was going to keep learning the business, eventually get her master’s in art history and then get a job as curator or an art specialist there at the house. Just as Ann Richardson, their CEO, had done when she was starting out. The higher Charlie climbed the proverbial ladder, the better the life she could provide for herself and her son.

Jake was what mattered, she reminded herself sternly. Her baby boy was counting on her and she wasn’t going to let him down.

With that thought firmly in mind, Charlie dismissed all her earlier notions about Vance Waverly and got back to work. Picking up a file folder from the edge of her desk, she headed for the jewelry salesroom on the second floor. She had the provenances for several pieces to deliver.

Plush carpet muffled her steps as she walked down the long halls toward the elevator. Throughout the floor, she heard typing and quiet phone conversations. It was a rarified atmosphere up on the seventh floor. Here was where the officers of Waverly’s worked, made the decisions that kept the auction house one of the top of its kind in the world. And here she would make her mark, she told herself as she stepped into the elevator and punched the button for the second floor.

The doors slid shut on a whisper and the subtle strains of classical music sighed out around her. She caught her reflection in the polished brass doors and smiled. When the doors opened again, she walked along gleaming wood floors, listening idly to the click of her own heels tapping out a fast beat.

The first two floors of the venerable old building were devoted to the salesrooms. Each of them was different. Each of them beautiful in its own way.

Polished oak floorboards stretched for what seemed like miles. Paintings and sculptures lined the walls and huge vases filled with fresh flowers created a subtle scent that permeated the air.

The hush of this floor was almost churchlike, and why not? Here was where the treasures of the world came to be admired, and then sold to live again with someone new. Charlie walked to the far room and stepped through the wide, double doorway.

“Charlie!” A male voice called her name and she turned.

Justin Dawes was walking toward her. Justin was the head of the precious-gem department at Waverly’s. About forty, he was balding, far too thin and his kind blue eyes were always narrowed in a squint. He had told her once it was the curse of his profession. Too many hours looking through jeweler’s loupes at the stones he loved so much.

Today Justin looked a little harried and less than his urbane self. His tie was loosened and the sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up to the elbow. His suit coat had been abandoned and thin wisps of brown hair stood straight up at the crown of his head.

“You have the provenances?”

“Right here,” she said and handed over the file.

“Good. That’s great.” He flipped through them, then shot her a look. “They’ve been verified?”

“Over and over again,” she said, smiling. “Justin, you checked all the stones yourself, remember? Even before the provenances came through. Don’t worry. Everything’s good.”

“It’s an important collection,” he told her, glancing back into the room where an auction would be held in two days. “Want to take a look?”

“I really do.”

He took her arm and guided her into the center of the room.

Lighting was everything in an auction house, and Waverly’s spared no expense in seeing things done right. Around the circumference of the huge, oak-paneled room, glass cases stood beneath spotlights that shone down on the fabulous items inside those cases. Those lights made the precious gems glitter and shine like fallen stars—or pieces of a rainbow.

Charlie couldn’t stop the sigh of appreciation. They turned in a slow circle, admiring the whole setup before Justin said, “Come look at this one piece. It’s amazing.”

“Oh, my,” she whispered as she followed Justin toward a single display case. Beneath the glass lay a swell of black velvet and on that velvet was a necklace unlike anything she’d ever seen before.

Gold wire, as thin and fragile as a single strand of hair, dripped with rubies and diamonds. The stones themselves were wrapped in the gold thread, then left to dangle like dreams from the slender chain that made up the base of the piece. The rubies shone like fresh blood and the diamonds were …

“It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?” Justin stared at the stones like a man in love. “Worn by the queen of Cadria more than a hundred years ago. It was crafted especially for her—some say, by Fabergé himself.” He sighed a little. “Of course, we can’t prove that, because even Cadria’s royal family today doesn’t know for sure. A shame, really. Wouldn’t that have looked impressive in the provenance? But still, stunning.”

Charlie shook her head as she looked at the necklace. She wanted to touch it but was terrified to breathe too close to it. “It’s amazing, Justin. But why is the king of Cadria auctioning off so many of the royal jewels?”

“Ah,” he said with a wink, “the current king is honoring his grandmother by establishing a charity in her name, and the proceeds from this sale are going directly to that. Plus, he thinks the publicity from this sale will spur more donors to support his grandmother’s charity.”

“Still seems a shame to get rid of something that belongs to your whole family.”

“Oh, don’t worry about royals, sweetie,” Justin told her. “They have more jewelry and shiny stuff than they know what to do with. These pieces probably won’t even be missed.”

“I would miss a necklace like that,” she said softly. “I’d be too scared of breaking or losing the darn thing to actually wear it, but I would miss it.”

“You’ve got a soft heart, Charlie,” Justin told her with a grin. “Which means you’ll love the legend of the necklace.”

“A legend?”

“Oh, yes. All the best stones come with a legend. Apparently, the then-king had this crafted especially for his bride as a wedding present. It’s said the rubies are charmed somehow and hold the secret to a long and happy marriage.”

Charlie looked over at him and smiled as her heart twisted in her chest. What would that be like, she wondered, to be loved so much? She thought of the queen who had worn it and the king who had clearly adored her and thought that sometimes, real life was even better than fairy tales. “That’s lovely.”

Justin winked at her. “Yeah. And it should really push up the price on the necklace, too. Nothing a bidder likes more than a little history added to a piece.”

She laughed. Couldn’t help it. “You’re shameless.”

“Guilty as charged,” he admitted with a grin.

Charlie reached out one hand toward the glass enclosure, then stopped before touching it. Her fingers curled into her palm.

“It’s okay. Alarms are turned off for the moment. Here, let me show you.” Justin lifted the glass case off the tall wooden base and allowed the necklace the freedom to shine.

“Even prettier,” she said on a sigh. Though it was so far out of her range of possibilities it might as well have been on Mars, Charlie couldn’t help the tickle of avarice that made her want to snatch it up.

“You want to pet it?” he asked, laughing.

“Pet it, try it on, wear it home and sing it to sleep,” Charlie admitted, deliberately putting her hands behind her back to keep herself from giving in to the urge to touch those glittering stones that shone so warmly under the lights.

“Can’t blame you,” Justin said. “And with your coloring, it would look gorgeous on you.”

She thought so, too. In fact, Charlie could almost feel the cool glide of the gold against her skin and the icy feel of each stone settling into place around her neck. Oh, it would be wonderful as well as terrifying to own something that looked so … magical. Then she imagined the expression on Vance Waverly’s handsome face as he draped that priceless necklace around her throat and—Okay. Stop it!

Clearing her mind of thoughts that had no business being there she said, “Yes, well. When I marry a rich prince, I’ll be sure to tell him what kind of necklace to have made for me.”

Justin laughed. “There you go. I like a woman with a plan.”

He set the glass cover back into place and Charlie let her gaze slide around the room. Tomorrow, this room would be filled with rows of straight-backed, velvet-tufted chairs. A podium would be centered at the end of the room and the sound system would be hooked up. The day after that, this room would be bustling with bidders from all over the world, each of them hoping to take home a small piece of the long-dead queen’s collection.

Charlie had already signed on to work the auction in whatever capacity she was needed, but she wouldn’t be envying the buyers. Justin was right, she thought. Charlie did have a plan. But it didn’t include diamonds and rubies. It entailed working her way to the very top of the auction world and being able to buy a house with a yard for her son to play in. Before he was too old to be interested in playing.

Charlie Potter wasn’t the kind of woman men draped in diamonds, and that was okay with her. These pieces were lovely to look at, but the truth was, she’d be too afraid of losing them to ever enjoy owning them.

She had nothing in common with the kind of people who could come in here and walk out with a queen’s jewelry. Which meant, she reminded her hormones, that she had nothing in common with Vance Waverly. That a few minutes of relaxed conversation wasn’t the go-ahead for her to get all dreamy-eyed over him. Besides, she told herself, it was important to pause and remember what had happened the last time she had let her heart take control of her mind.

Three

She took a deep breath, forced a bright smile and said, “You’ve done an amazing job, Justin.”

“Thanks.” He swept the room with an experienced eye. “I think so, too. Should be a hell of an auction. You’ll be working it, right?”

“Oh, I’ll be here.”

“Thought you would.” He gave her a knowing wink.

In the two years she’d been at Waverly’s, she had spent as much time working the actual sales as possible. Her love of auctions had started in college when her roommate had dragged her to a small auction of movie memorabilia. That was all it had taken.

The fast-paced bidding, the treasures from the past and the excited atmosphere sparked by the people attending had all come together to energize Charlie in a way she’d never experienced before. She had loved the whole thing. Every moment. She had watched the bidders, studied the auctioneer and thrilled to the quick pace of items bought and sold. She’d felt a stirring of excitement she had never known and that was enough to set her on the path that had eventually led her to Manhattan and her entry-level job at Waverly’s.

She’d learned everything she could about the auction world and studied both this house and the other stately auction houses. She had wanted to be part of something amazing and every time she walked into this wonderful old building, she felt as if she’d accomplished her dream. At least, the first part of it.

Charlie made a point of working the auctions here, to support Waverly’s, to help where she could and to continue to learn the ins and outs of a business that seemed to change daily. From the first moment she had stepped inside Waverly’s, she had known that she’d found where she belonged. And the feeling had only intensified since that day.

“You know me,” she said quietly, her gaze sliding across the familiar, the exciting. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Excellent. We’ll need as many hands as possible behind the scenes.”

“Sure.” Thankfully, the day-care facility at Waverly’s was open during all the auctions so that employees could leave their children somewhere safe while they worked. Jake did love being with all of his little friends and … She checked her watch. “I’ve gotta go, Justin. Thanks for the grand tour.”

“No problem,” he said, already opening the file she’d brought him to study the provenances. “See you Saturday.”

“Right.” She turned and walked out of the luscious display of jewels that were the stuff of dreams. Taking the elevator up two floors, she eagerly left behind dreams for a chance to see her reality.

“I’m not going to dignify these unfounded rumors with a response,” Ann Richardson said softly, her gaze sweeping the board members gathered around the long, cherrywood conference table. “And I hope I can count on all of you for your support.”

People shifted uncomfortably in their seats, but Vance held perfectly still, his gaze fixed on the woman facing them down with the air of a young queen. Tall and willowy, Ann had her ice-blond hair styled into a perfect, curled-under style that ended at her jawline. Her blue eyes were sharp as she met the stares of the other board members. She wore one of her elegantly tailored business suits—this one black with gray pinstripes—and her chin was lifted at a defiant angle. She looked proud and strong as she silently dared anyone to contradict her.

Vance had always admired Ann Richardson, but never more so than right now. With the article in the newspaper, the entire city would be whispering about her, speculating about her. But it seemed that she had chosen a path to take—steely indifference—and he had to applaud it. If she fought the charges with a vehement argument, it would only spur on the talk. She couldn’t admit they were true—even if they were. The only road she could take was the “no comment” route. By doing it here first, with the board, she would be able to gauge how well it would go over elsewhere.

The board members looked shaken and worried and he knew they were all thinking about the possible ramifications of this situation. If it wasn’t cleared up soon, rumor would become suspicion and suspicion would become fact. Whether or not she was guilty of anything, Ann’s career and reputation could very well be destroyed—along with Waverly’s.

Seconds ticked past and the quiet in the room was deafening. Here on the seventh floor, the boardroom was a study in understated elegance. The walls were a pale beige, the crown molding a stark white. Old masters hung on the walls and a twisted brass sculpture of Atlas balancing the world on his shoulders stood in one corner.

Vance held his peace, since he wanted to hear everyone else’s reactions before he spoke. He knew he wouldn’t have to wait long. It took about ten seconds.

“It’s outrageous is what it is,” George Cromwell sputtered first.

“These innuendoes are baseless,” Ann insisted, her voice calm. “I would never put Waverly’s at risk, and I hope you all know that.”

“Yes, Ann,” George Cromwell said from his seat at the end of the table. “I’m sure we all appreciate your devotion to the company, but this article clearly states that we have a problem.”

Vance saw the flinch Ann couldn’t quite disguise. But since he was the youngest member of the board, he was betting no one else noticed.

“The article is nothing more than rumor and supposition.”

“But it’s smoke,” George insisted. “And people will assume that where there is smoke, there is fire.”

Vance rolled his eyes and shook his head. If there was a cliché, George would find it. At seventy-five, he was long past the age of retiring, but the old fox had no intention of giving up his seat on the board. He liked the power. Liked being able to have a say in things. And right now, it looked as though he was enjoying putting Ann through the wringer.

“How can we take your word for this, when there was clearly enough evidence for this reporter to write his story?”

“Since when does a reporter need to back up a story?” she asked haughtily. “There’s more fiction in the daily papers than you’ll find at the nearest bookstore and you all know it.”

Good point, Vance thought, still regarding their CEO warily. He wished he knew Ann better, but he didn’t. She seemed like a warm, congenial enough person, but she’d made a point of keeping people at a distance, refusing to make friends—and now that strategy just might bite her in the ass.

“People believe what they read,” George intoned darkly.

“George, do hush up.” Edwina Burrows spoke up from the end of the table.

“You know I’m right about this,” the man countered hotly.

As the two older people shot verbal darts at each other, Vance watched Ann. Her mouth worked as if she were grinding her teeth and Vance couldn’t really blame her. It had to be hard, standing in front of this bunch, defending yourself against what was at this point merely rumor.

Finally, she turned to him and asked, “Vance? What about you? As the last remaining Waverly on the board, I value your opinion. Do you believe me?”

He studied her for a long minute. Vance knew that now the others were waiting to hear what he had to say. And he knew that whatever he said would swing sentiment either for or against Ann. His first responsibility was to the company and the thousands of people both here and abroad who depended on Waverly’s for their very livelihoods.

But he also owed Ann his support. She’d stepped into the role of CEO and done a hell of a job. She was smart and capable and had never given him any reason to doubt her motives or her loyalties to the house.

He wasn’t convinced that she was telling the complete truth, though. Like it or not, George had a point. That reporter had picked up on some tidbit of gossip as the basis for the story. But even if there was something between Ann and Dalton, Vance still didn’t believe she would sell out Waverly’s.

He’d like to have all the information before he took a stand one way or the other, but that wasn’t going to happen. What it came down to for Vance was this: Did he trust his gut instincts or not? Bottom line? He always went with his instincts. So he took a chance.

“I believe you,” he said loudly enough that no one could miss it.

He saw her shoulders relax just a bit in silent relief and he knew he’d done the right thing to support her publicly. But he wasn’t finished.

“That said,” Vance continued, looking directly into Ann’s blue eyes, “if this reporter continues to throw mud at Waverly’s, we’ll all need to be prepared.”

His silent message to her was, If I’m wrong about you, you had better have a good backup plan—because if it means saving Waverly’s, you’re gone.

She gave him a small, tight nod and Vance was pretty sure she understood.

“You’re right,” Ann said aloud. Shifting her gaze back to the rest of the board, she continued by saying, “Dalton Rothschild is not to be trusted. If he thinks there’s a chink in our armor, he will make a move.”

“Such as?” Edwina asked.

Ann gritted her teeth. “A hostile takeover wouldn’t be out of the question.”

Vance listened to the outraged shouts and furious whispers that rolled through the room and wondered why none of them had considered that possibility before. He certainly had. The implications of what this might mean were staggering. Rothschild knew that if he tried to simply buy out Waverly’s he would hit a stone wall. But if he thought to take it over by means of destroying the auction house first, then scooping up what was left, that was something else.

Ruin the house’s reputation, and then buy them out when the business was trashed.

Not a bad plan, Vance thought with icy calm. But one that would fail. He’d see to it himself. Gaze fixed on Ann, he watched as she waited for the tumult around the table to die down. When it didn’t happen fast enough, she rapped her knuckles against the cherrywood table as if she were a teacher trying to restrain a room full of kids. But it worked. When it was quiet, she spoke up again, cool and collected.

“I need you all to be on guard at all times. Keep an eye on our employees. If Dalton means business, he could be wooing an insider into spilling our secrets. We can’t take anything for granted right now. Waverly’s needs us—all of us—to be on our toes.”

Vance scowled at the thought. He didn’t like the idea that there might be a spy among them at Waverly’s. He’d known most of the people he worked with for years. A lot of them had watched him grow up. Looking at them now with suspicious eyes went against the grain. Besides, he couldn’t help asking himself why someone would betray Waverly’s. The house had always been a good place to work. The company took care of the employees. Hell, there was even a day-care center on the fourth floor so that mothers didn’t have to worry about their children while they were at work.

Children.

An image popped into his mind. The framed photo on Charlie’s desk. That of a small boy, grinning up at the camera, displaying two impossibly tiny teeth. Unease washed through him as the board meeting went on around him.

For a brief moment, he wondered if he should be suspicious of Charlie.

Ordinarily, he wouldn’t even have to listen to the voices rising and falling in the room to know what they were saying. The only two female board members, Veronica Jameson and Edwina Burrows—grande dames of society, each well into her seventies—were extremely protective of Ann. Maybe it was the whole “woman power” thing, but those two were always Ann’s most vociferous supporters.

“I’m sure you’ll know best how to handle this, Ann,” Veronica said, her thin voice chirping like a hungry bird’s.

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“I’m sure you do,” Simon West carped in apparent frustration.

“I realize what a difficult situation this is,” Ann said, her voice briefly carrying over the rest. “But if we band together, I’m sure we’ll—”

“Band together? Against what? Some ephemeral danger? Or against you?” Simon, a shrunken, wizened man of about a hundred, slammed the tip of his cane against the tabletop to get everyone’s attention. Even Vance let go of his thoughts long enough to stare at the older man.

Simon had been at Waverly’s for as long as anyone could remember. There were some who insisted he was there at the dedication of the building 150 years ago. Vance smiled to himself at the thought.

Simon was furious and looked as if he were about to have a stroke. His eyes bugged out, his cheeks were splotches of red and spittle gathered at the corners of his mouth as he shouted, “Nothing like this happened before we allowed a woman to be in charge!”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Vance muttered. Sometimes the old guard was so old they forgot they were living in a shiny new world where women didn’t stay at home unless that’s where they wanted to be.

“That’s not helpful, Simon,” Ann muttered, and Vance had to give her points for patience. If it was him, he’d have grabbed the cane away and tossed it into the corner.

Then he rolled his eyes as Veronica and Edwina charged into the fray in defense of their CEO.

He glanced across the table at the empty chair. Vance’s uncle, Rutherford Waverly, should be sitting there. As the most senior member of the board, he should have been at every meeting. And right now, Vance would have liked to get his uncle’s take on all of this. But Rutherford had hated Waverly’s and everything about it ever since he and Vance’s father, Edward, had had a falling-out decades ago. Vance himself had hardly spoken to the other man in years.

But right now, he could have used a cooler head. An unbiased opinion.

“Whether or not we like what’s happening,” Ann declared, effectively silencing the last of the grumblers around the table by keeping her voice low and calm, forcing them to quiet down long enough to hear her. “The situation is here and we have to deal with it. If Dalton Rothschild is preparing for a takeover, all of us have to watching for any signs of treachery or betrayal. As much as I hate to say it, one of our people may be spying for the enemy.”

Once again, the image of his new assistant popped into his mind. What did he really know about her?

The fourth floor was part of Waverly’s and yet, so wildly different from the rest of the venerable auction house it could have been on another planet. Every other floor in the building was sedate, lovely, elegant.

Here, though, it was all primary colors and the scent of crayons and cookies and milk. The rest of the building was usually couched in what felt like a cathedral-like hush. But here, there was laughter, giggles that bubbled up to the high ceilings and fell back down like a rain of daisies.

Every time Charlie stepped onto this floor, she felt a wave of gratitude to Waverly’s for taking such good care of its employees. If she had to pay for day care on her own, she wouldn’t have been able to save enough money to move into the two-bedroom apartment where she and Jake now lived. Not to mention the fact that she would have spent every minute of every workday worried about her son’s safety and happiness. Was he being fed or played with or hugged when he fell down?

At Waverly’s she didn’t have to worry about any of that. This space was completely childproof and safe. The women hired to work here had been vetted by HR and licensed by the State of New York in child care and early childhood development. Each child here was cared for and looked after and the nominal fee she paid every month was more than worth it.

She walked past the room that was set up with tables and chairs and two computer stations where older kids would come in after school and do their homework while they waited for the workday to end. She peeked into the nap room, furnished with a half-dozen cribs and two comfy rocking chairs, then slipped past quietly to stand in the doorway of the toddler play area.

Here again, there were bright colors on the walls and murals of fairy gardens and rainbows to enchant the kids. There were baby walkers for the infants, stuffed animals and games for the toddlers. There were shelves filled with books for the older kids and dozens of play rugs and pillows covering the wood floor.

An excited squeal greeted her, and Charlie reacted instantly. With a rush of love swamping her, she hurried across the floor to pick up her son and cuddle him close. He smelled like shampoo and bananas. She smiled when his little arms came around her neck and he dug his face into the curve of her neck. “Mamamamamama …”

It thrilled her to hear the babble of sound that defined the essence of who she was now. The old Charlie had faded away the moment she’d learned she was pregnant. The woman who had had vague, hazy dreams of success and flashy cars and beautiful homes had become a mother. Her dreams now were filled with plans for her son. With ways to ensure his happiness. With hopes for the future she could provide for him.

As she held that warm little body close to her, she told herself that Jake would never wonder if he was wanted. Would never be afraid.

Pushing all else but her baby aside, she looked into the dark blue eyes he had inherited from the father he’d never known. “Are you being a good boy?”

Jake grinned and her heart melted.

“He’s a terrific boy and you know it,” Linda Morrow said, coming up behind her. “Sweetest baby ever.”

“I think so,” Charlie agreed and gave Jake a quick kiss before setting him down on the rug again. When he screwed up his face to cry, she handed him a ball and he laughed in response. Nothing upset Jake for long.

“I was downstairs checking out the salesroom for Saturday’s auction and couldn’t resist stopping by to see him.”

“Oh, I get it,” Linda said, her gaze constantly shifting to take in the ten or so children scattered around the room and the other two women in charge of them. “That’s the beauty of working at a place like this. Being able to see your child during the day, reassure yourself …”

“Am I that obvious?”

“All good moms are,” Linda told her with a wink. “You know your baby’s safe here, but your heart insists on seeing for yourself once in a while.”

“Wish it was more often,” she said wistfully as she watched Jake crawl in a mad rush toward a giant, purple, plush teddy bear. In a perfect world, she’d be a stay-at-home mom with a dozen kids. She’d always wanted a big family. But since she had to work, she was grateful that she’d found a job doing something that she loved. Being part of something as fast-paced and exciting as the world of high-end auctions was a dream come true. Except for the not having enough time for her son thing.

“Jake took a step this morning all on his own.”

“He did?” Charlie’s heart gave a sharp, painful twist. She hadn’t been there to see that first step. She’d missed it and that memory was now Linda’s. The sting of that knowledge cut deep, but she quickly reassured herself that stolen moments didn’t make up a lifetime and that she would have years of memories of Jake’s “firsts” to take out and relive again when she was a doddering old woman.

“It was only the one step,” Linda was saying, “then he got this incredibly surprised look on his face and dropped like a stone.” She smiled. “But he’s getting it, and pretty soon he’ll be running everywhere.”

“He will, won’t he? God, it’s all going by so fast.”

Charlie watched her son go up on his knees, lift his arms, then fall forward onto the stuffed teddy bear with a wild giggle. His first step, then running. Then he’d be in school and then graduating and then college and marriage and a family and—Charlie laughed at her own thoughts. He was barely thirteen months old and she had him practically retired.

Plenty of time to build memories, she told herself. “I’ve got to get back to work,” she said and reluctantly turned for the door. She stopped, though, and asked, “Did he eat the watermelon chunks I sent with him today?”

“No, but he scarfed down the banana,” Linda told her.

One thing wasn’t changing. Jake would eat nothing but bananas if given half a chance.

“Okay, then.” She looked at her son one more time, as if to remind herself just what she was working for, then left the playroom behind.

Back at her desk, Charlie got caught up on Vance’s mail, the requests for authentication from the fine arts division and the incoming provenances on the next auction to be held, the Ming Dynasty porcelain.

She skimmed each one on her computer screen before sending them to the printer. It was fascinating to read about artists who had lived and died centuries ago. Who had created such beautiful, fragile things that had survived through the years.

What must it have been like to create such a long-lasting legacy? Had they expected their art to survive all this time? Or had they thought only of making a vase worthy enough of purchase so they could feed their families? No one would ever know, but Charlie loved imagining the lives of those long-dead artists and wondered what they’d make of seeing their treasures here, in a modern auction house.

While the laser printer hummed along, a ding sounded, alerting Charlie to an incoming email. She switched over to the mail program, clicked on the header INFORMATION REQUIRED and then froze.

Her gaze locked on the screen, her heart stopped. Breath was trapped in her lungs.

And fear rose up to take a bite out of her soul.

Four

Vance left the boardroom, still considering everything Ann had said. He wanted to believe that there was nothing between her and Dalton Rothschild. He also wanted to believe that there was no hostile takeover in the works. The thought of any of Waverly’s employees secretly working for the enemy was a hard one to take.

But worse was the thought that had been circling in his mind like some twisted tornado. No matter how he tried to dislodge the thoughts, they kept coming back.

If he was going to suspect an employee of betraying the house, then he had to take a good, hard look at Charlotte Potter. Relatively new to the company. New to the position of his assistant, which would give her access to all kinds of sensitive information about Waverly’s.

He stalked down the long hallway toward his office and the scowl on his face was fierce enough to have others scatter with one look at him. A path was cleared for him and Vance barely noticed. His mind was racing. Was Charlie a spy? Or was she as innocent as she looked?

Vance stopped dead and paid no attention to the people forced to walk around him. If there was something going on here, he had to find out what it was.

Charlie’s gaze locked on the few simple lines of type.

I know who you really are. Forward to this address all of V. Waverly’s files for the last five years of business or risk facing charges of being an unfit mother.

“Unfit?” Her stomach churning, Charlie lifted one hand to her mouth as the tidy little world she’d built around herself crumbled.

Fear was roaring inside her and it was hard to breathe. She wasn’t an unfit mother. She loved her son and she would fight anyone who said differently. But while her fear and fury pumped hot through her veins, a voice in her mind whispered, The past is there, Charlie. You can’t change it. Can’t hide it. If someone finds out …

“Someone has. But who?” She heard the icy dread in her voice as chills snaked along her spine. This couldn’t be happening. It just wasn’t possible. No one in New York knew anything about her—where she’d grown up, who her family was. Except for …

Realization dropped on her like rocks rolling down the side of a mountain. All thunder and fury, crashing into her system and leaving her shaken, as she realized that the only person who knew about her past was Jake’s father. A man she hadn’t seen since she’d told him she was pregnant.

A man, she had found out when she’d started looking for him, who didn’t even exist.

God, she’d been such an idiot. So young and stupid and trusting. Fresh off the bus from a small town upstate, she’d taken her entry-level job at Waverly’s and felt … sophisticated. She had been a walking cliché. Young woman arrives in big city, doesn’t know anyone. Gets overwhelmed by the possibilities of a world far wider than she’d ever known before.

She found a tiny apartment in Queens. Rode the subway every day into Manhattan. She had felt like part of the bustling, exciting city and, looking back, she could see what easy prey she had been for the man who had romanced her.

In a blink, she saw it all again. Felt the rush when she’d dropped her phone and a tall, handsome man had picked it up for her. She’d taken one look into those smiling brown eyes and had lost every ounce of common sense her grandmother had spent years instilling in her.

“He hadn’t even had to work that hard,” she whispered, ashamed to admit even now how susceptible she had been to the flattery. To the attention.

He had swept her off her feet, and in a few short weeks had her in his bed and convinced that it was true love. Charlie had had stars in her eyes, thinking that an important architect like Blaine Andersen wanted to be with no one but her. He’d told her that it was his great-grandfather who had designed the Waverly building. He’d been doting and kind—stopping by her office to bring her flowers and candy—helping her find her BlackBerry both times she had lost it. He was the fairytale prince and Charlie had believed in him.

Until she’d told him she was pregnant and he’d disappeared. Until she’d tried to find him and discovered that there was no Blaine Andersen. That the Andersen who had long ago designed the Waverly building had never had children. That she had swallowed a tangle of lies in her pathetic need to be loved. Accepted.

All those thoughts and more raced through her mind in seconds, leaving her shaken, but still furious. This had to be Blaine. He was the only one she’d told about her past. The only one she’d trusted with that information.

“Well, he’s not going to make a fool of me twice,” Charlie muttered and set her fingers on the keyboard.

Hitting Reply, she typed in, Who are you?

The answer came in an instant. Doesn’t matter. I know you. And I will see you lose your baby.

Fresh fear erupted. Just seeing those words on the screen twisted her heart and sent what felt like a lead ball dropping into the pit of her stomach. Whoever it was had included a link in the email. Dreading what she was going to find, she clicked on it.

An old newspaper article flashed onto the screen. A story about her father and how he’d died. Quickly, she shut it all down, as if afraid that article might somehow etch itself onto her computer screen and remain there like a stain for anyone to read.

Clenching her hands together, she squeezed until her knuckles went white. She didn’t know what to do. If she had to go to court and fight for her son, she would lose. She knew that. Charlie didn’t have the kind of money it would take to hire a shark of a lawyer. Besides, what could she say? She couldn’t even name Jake’s father. She had no idea what the guy’s real name was. And if the court looked into her past—where she was from, who her family was …

“Oh, God.”

“Problem?”

She jumped and spun around. Vance Waverly was standing in the doorway. Did she look as guilty as she felt? Could he see the panic in her eyes? How long had he been there? What had he seen? What had he heard?

He took a step into the room and he seemed to fill the space. The man was so tall, so broad-shouldered, and his eyes were sharp enough to see inside a woman’s soul. She hoped to heaven he wasn’t looking that deeply at the moment.

“No,” she blurted out when she could find her voice again. “No problem.”

The lie came easily, though it tasted bitter. She didn’t want to lie to him. She didn’t want to live a life where lying was necessary. But what choice did she have?

“Good,” he said, still watching her. “Do you have the paperwork on the Ming vases ready?”

“Yes, I’ll bring it right in.”

“You’re sure everything is fine?” He was studying her and his brown eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

Get a grip, Charlie. She couldn’t let him know how shaken she was. Or that someone, somewhere, was trying to blackmail her. She couldn’t risk anyone finding out anything about her—at least, not until she’d found a way out of this mess. She’d think of something. All she needed was time. Just a little bit of time.

Charlie took a short, sharp breath and nodded. “Absolutely. I’ll just get those papers for you.”

When he walked into his office, her bravado dropped away. What was she going to do? If she sent the files to whoever was threatening her, she could lose her job. If she didn’t send them, she could lose her son. But if she sent the files and got caught, she’d go to jail and lose her son anyway.

Tears burned at the backs of her eyes, but she fought them back. She wouldn’t cry. She wasn’t the naive young thing she had been when Jake’s father had conned her. She was older. Wiser. She’d been burned and learned her lesson. And now she wasn’t just protecting herself. She was a mother. And no one was going to take her son from her.

No one.

For the next few days, Vance kept an eye on his new assistant. Granted, he didn’t know her well, but even he could see the change in her. She was jumpy. Nervous. She opened her email as if she were half expecting the computer to explode.

“Something’s going on with her,” he said.

“So,” Roark urged him, “find out what it is.”

“What a great idea. Wonder why I didn’t think of that?”

Oblivious to the sarcasm, Roark shrugged. He shifted his gaze to pedestrians rushing up and down Fifth Avenue. Summer was here and the sun was making sure everyone knew it. The sky was clear blue, the heat was blistering and the biggest sellers from the street cart vendors were icy bottles of water.

Under a wide umbrella, Vance still felt the heat. His suit coat was stifling, but he’d insisted on eating at the sidewalk café so he and his brother could talk without risk of being overheard. The cacophony of sound outside provided enough white noise that no one would be able to listen in on their conversation.

“Just yesterday, I walked into my office and Charlie was at my desk. When I came into the room, she was so startled she looked ready to faint.”

Roark grinned. “Doesn’t necessarily mean anything. You can be a scary guy.”

Vance frowned. He wasn’t scary. Was he? Now that he thought about it, most people did tend to scuttle out of his way when he walked through a room. Was that it? Was Charlie just nervous being around him?

He shook his head. “No, that’s not it. She didn’t look scared. She looked guilty.”

Blowing out a breath, Roark turned to his brother, pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head and said, “If you really want to know what’s going on, romance it out of her.”

“What?”

“A little dinner. A little dancing. A little wine …” He shrugged again. “Fastest way to get to the bottom of it.”

“And unethical,” Vance retorted.

“So’s spying on your employer.”

Vance shook his head. “I can’t date my assistant.”

“No rules against it.”

“There are sexual harassment lawsuits.”

Roark laughed. “I didn’t say sleep with her.”

No, but that’s exactly where Vance’s mind had gone with absolutely no help. He’d been thinking about Charlie Potter for days and it wasn’t all about suspicion.

That hair of hers had become something of a fixation for him. He wanted to push his fingers through that long, thick mass of blond waves and feel the cool slide of it against his skin. And then there was the scent of her—something light and floral that seemed to cling to the air in the office even when she wasn’t in the room. The sound of her voice, the way her legs looked in those mile-high heels she wore … Yeah, she was on his mind way too much lately.

Shutting the mental door on those images, he said, “And if I find out she is guilty?”

“Then you fire her. Or,” Roark mused, “use her to give disinformation to Rothschild.”

“Use her and lose her—that’s what you’re saying?” Roark hadn’t even been raised as a Waverly and he had their sensibilities. Maybe it was in the blood. Hell, their own father—after recovering from the loss of his wife and daughter—had gone through women so quickly, there had practically been a revolving door on the Waverly house.

Vance had grown up in a love vacuum. His father had never again risked his heart and Vance had learned to do this same. Roark had been raised by a single mother, so maybe he hadn’t seen any evidence of love, either. Which just gave the brothers even more in common, Vance thought.

“Look,” Roark said, “if she’s guilty, you don’t owe her anything. If she’s innocent, you don’t have to do a damn thing. It’s a win-win.”

“I’ll think about it.” As if he’d been thinking about anything else lately anyway.

“Good. Let me know how it goes.” Roark put his sunglasses back on and dragged his brown leather jacket off the back of the seat. Pulling it on, he added, “I’m out of here in the morning. Got a flight to Dubai tonight and still have a few things to do before I go.”

“Dubai?” Vance smiled. His younger half brother was a master at turning up valuable items to sell at Waverly’s auctions. The downside? He was hardly ever in New York. He’d been around the globe so many times, he was on his third passport—he just kept filling them up with stamps.

“Yeah,” Roark said with a quick grin. “Got a lead on something amazing. I pull this off and Rothschild’s is out of luck. We’ll be so far on top, they’ll never be able to touch us.”

“What is it?” Intrigued, Vance looked at him and waited.

“A surprise,” Roark said. “It’ll be worth the wait. Trust me.”

He did. Funny, though they hadn’t grown up together, Vance felt closer to Roark than to anyone else he’d ever known. He looked at Roark and saw the family resemblance and wished to hell their father had told him about Roark years earlier. And wished Edward Waverly had sought out his second son himself before he’d died.

Roark was raised by a single mother who had refused to name his father. By the time Vance had found him and told him exactly who he was, Roark was his own man and unwilling to accept the truth as easily as Vance had. He wanted proof and who could blame him, really? But all Vance had was a note, written by their late father, and for Roark, that simply wasn’t enough.

Still, they were building a relationship and whether the younger man admitted it or not, they were family.

Vance threw down cash for the bill and walked out with his brother. Taxi horns blared, an ambulance wailed in the distance and the scent of cooking hot dogs drifted on a sullen breeze.

“Take care of yourself,” Vance said.

“Always do,” Roark assured him, then slapped Vance on the shoulder. “I’ll be back soon enough. And I’ve got the satellite phone on me all the time. If you need me, call.”

“Yeah. I will.” Vance watched Roark walk away until he was swallowed up by the crowds.

His brother, the rogue treasure hunter, was off on a quest. And Vance was about to start a quest of his own. Romancing the assistant. He frowned to himself as he joined a crowd of pedestrians to cross the street. He had a feeling that Roark’s job was going to be a hell of a lot less interesting than his own.

By that weekend, Charlie was at the end of her rope. She’d tied a knot and dug her fingernails in tight, but the rope was fraying and any second now she was going to—

“Lot 32,” the auctioneer called out.

She jumped, startled out of her thoughts. She’d had so much adrenaline shooting through her system this week she could probably fly to the moon and back on her own power.

Charlie took a breath, told herself to concentrate and carried a teak tray bearing a diamond-and-sapphire-studded tiara into the salesroom. Steering her thoughts away from the blackmailer now stalking her with daily, ever-more-threatening emails, she focused solely on the task at hand. She couldn’t afford to trip and fall and drop the tray, sending that tiara spiraling off to crash against a wall or something.

Oh, God. Just the thought of that made her stiffen up and slow her steps. The auctioneer turned to fix her with a glare as if to say, Get a move on, already.

She ignored him and stopped beside the podium, holding the tray at a slight angle that afforded the audience a nice view of the tiara.

Items too big or too fragile to be carried into the auction were displayed on a sixty-inch flat screen behind the auctioneer. But it was more traditional to carry lots like the tiara into the auction room so everyone could see the items up close.

Of course, the bidders had already had a chance to study the sale items. There had been a reception before the auction where the über-rich and celebrities could sip champagne and decide what they wanted to buy.

But as Charlie stood in front of the audience now, dressed in her tidy black suit, she felt everyone stir as if leaning in toward her for a better look at the tiara. And who could blame them? Under the lights, every single diamond sparkled like an individual star. The sapphires were so dark they looked almost black until the light hit them just right and they revealed a hue of blue so rich and deep it was like looking into the heart of the ocean.

Any other day, Charlie would be loving this. She would smile at the crowd as she walked down the center aisle so that people could take a closer look. She would move smoothly, slowly, proud to be a part of the Waverly’s tradition.

Today it was all she could do to remain upright.

She should have called in sick and skipped today’s auction. But she needed the extra money the overtime would bring her. And, more than that, she didn’t want her world disrupted. Didn’t want to be afraid, so she was pretending she wasn’t. Didn’t want to lose what she’d begun to build here, so she clung to that frayed and tired rope with everything she had.

“We’ll start the bidding at $35,000….”

The auctioneer went into his patter and Charlie zoned out again. She kept one corner of her mind on the task at hand, of course, walking to the front of the room once again and turning, holding the tray so that the lights caught the gems in just the right way.

But the other part of her mind was racing. Desperate to find a solution to her problem. Every day, she opened her email with fear and trepidation. And every day, her blackmailer was a little more curt. A little more dangerous. She hadn’t written back to him since that first day, hoping that he would think that she wasn’t getting his emails.

But even as she hoped and wished for it, she knew that wasn’t going to happen.

Whoever was emailing her wanted information and wasn’t going to go away until he or she got it. Which left Charlie exactly where?

Jail or out of a job? Losing her son?

Her heartbeat skittered in her chest and she felt a little faint. So she swallowed hard, locked her knees and held on. The bids came fast and furious. Red paddles lifted and lowered. Nods of the head. A wave of a hand. A cough. A phone ringing as anonymous bidders made their play for the stunning tiara. There was excitement, magic all around her, and Charlie didn’t feel any of it. Finally, beside her, the slam of the gavel made her jump.

“Sold for $75,000.”

That was Charlie’s signal to return the tiara to the holding room where its new owner would pick it up after the sale.

Justin took the tiara from her as soon as she returned.

“Thanks, sweetie. You’ve got time to sit down or something. I’ll need you again to take in lots 41 and 46.”

She forced a smile. “I’ll be here.”

“Hey.” Justin frowned at her. “You okay?”

God, was she that easy to read? How could she ever be a spy and sneak something out from under Vance Waverly’s nose if Justin—a man who barely looked up from the treasures he was in charge of—noticed right away that she wasn’t herself?

“I’m fine. Just a little hungry, I guess. Haven’t really eaten in a while. Didn’t have breakfast.”

“Well, go get something, honey.” He gave her an absent-minded pat on the arm. “We’ve got snacks set up for everyone in the break room.”

“Okay, I will.”

But Justin had already moved on. “Sam, put red velvet under the onyx rings. If you use black, who’s gonna see them?”

While the rest of the auction team bustled around in an organized manner, Charlie slipped off for some quiet. Some time to herself so she could think.

Trouble was, she’d been “thinking” for days about this problem and didn’t have a solution. Couldn’t figure out how to handle it. Didn’t know who to talk to about it, because no one here knew who she had been before coming to Manhattan. And that was how she wanted it to stay.

Charlie dropped into a chair beside the table loaded with sandwiches, cookies and cupcakes and idly picked up a snickerdoodle. She broke a corner of the cinnamon cookie off, popped it into her mouth and chewed—even though it tasted like sawdust.

Upstairs, Jake was playing in the day-care center. Her little boy was safe and happy. She had to keep him that way. But to do that, she would have to steal information from the people who trusted her to do her job. She was torn in two.

“Nothing’s that bad,” a deep voice said from the doorway.

She turned her head to see Vance Waverly standing there watching her. Her stomach did a quick pitch and roll and a hum of something hot and delicious swept through her. In the business suits he usually wore, Vance was too hot for words. Today, though, he was wearing black jeans, a white long-sleeved shirt and black boots, scuffed from long use. He looked not only hot … but dangerous. And so sexy her mouth went dry and she choked on the rest of the snickerdoodle.

Coughing, gasping, she thumped her chest with the flat of her hand as her eyes watered and she fought for air.

He came over, handed her a bottle of water and waited while she took a sip and the coughing eased off. Finally, when she was quiet, he smiled. And oh, that smile was absolutely devastating. Probably a good thing he didn’t do it often. No woman would be immune to a smile from Vance Waverly.

“Don’t think I’ve ever caused a woman to choke to death before.”

She frowned at herself. “You surprised me.”

“Clearly.” He tipped his head to one side. “You okay now?”

“Yeah.” She held the bottle of water in both hands. “Fine.”

“Good.” He pulled out a chair and sat down beside her. Propping one booted foot on a knee, he leaned back to study her. “So what has you so jumpy?”

“Nothing,” she lied, and looked into his brown eyes with their irresistible gold flecks. He had beautiful eyes, with long lashes and a steady stare that seemed to be peeling her open, layer by layer. Well, that wasn’t a happy thought. “I’m just tired. My son didn’t sleep well last night, which means that neither of us does.”

“Couldn’t your husband help take care of him?”

She flushed. “I’m not married. It’s just Jake and me.”

“Must be hard.”

“I won’t argue with that, but I wouldn’t change anything if I could, either.” In fact, she couldn’t imagine a world without Jake in it.

“Lucky boy,” he mused, still watching her.

“So, what are you doing here?”

“I work here,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting.

Brilliant, Charlie. Just brilliant. “Yes, but you usually don’t come to the auctions.”

He shrugged. “I wanted to see you.”

“You see me every day.” Nerves plucked at her insides and Charlie fought to keep from showing them.

“Yeah, but this way’s different,” he said. “We’re not in the office. We’re more like … friends.”

She laughed and took a sip of her water. “Friends?”

“Something wrong with that?”

Oh, if he only knew. They weren’t friends. Friends didn’t make friends feel all hot and flustered and nervous. Friends didn’t inspire dreams that had her waking up in the middle of the night, reaching out for him. And friends most certainly didn’t spy on each other or have the power to fire each other for that matter.

“I guess not,” she said because she could hardly repeat everything that had just raced through her mind.

“Good. Because I’d like to take my ‘friend’ out to dinner tonight.”

“What?”

Five

Vance had never been big on surprises.

They usually didn’t work well for either the surpriser or the surprisee. He liked knowing what was coming, how he would handle it and exactly how any given situation would play out.

His brother, Roark, was the exact opposite. Roark lived his life on the road, on the edge. He had a place to stay in town, but was hardly ever there. He didn’t like plans and lived for the rush of the new.

Vance couldn’t imagine living like that. More than one woman in his life had suggested that he “loosen up.” Let go of his schedule long enough to enjoy himself more. But he enjoyed himself plenty and his relentlessly-adhered-to agenda kept everything straight.

So no one was more astonished than he when he blurted out that invitation to dinner. Although, judging by the expression on Charlie’s face, she was running a close second in the shock department.

He’d come here today not only to support Waverly’s, but to keep an eye on Charlie. See what she did, who she talked to. He hadn’t actually planned to ask her to dinner. Vance was well aware that having any kind of relationship with his assistant was problematic at best and a disaster in the making at worst.

But everything Roark had said kept resonating with him. Getting to know Charlie outside the office was one sure way to dig deeper. To find out all he could about her and discover if she was a spy or as innocent as she seemed.

“Dinner?” Her voice rose. “With you?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, with Justin.”

She laughed a little. “I don’t think Justin’s wife would appreciate that.”

“I don’t have a wife to care …” His gaze dropped to her left hand and the absence of a ring. “And you’re not married, either, so what’s the problem?”

She curled her fingers into her palms and folded her hands on her lap. “You’re my boss.”

“So if I say it’s okay, it should be.”

“I don’t know,” she said, gaze shifting as if to make sure they were still alone in the break room.

“It’s just dinner, Charlie,” he said, not even sure why he was trying so hard to convince her. Maybe it was simply because he wasn’t used to women turning him down. He was more accustomed to women flinging themselves at him. Charlotte Potter was different. “You have to eat.”

She blew out a breath, unfolded her hands and tapped one finger nervously against the tabletop. “I appreciate it, but I’ve got Jake upstairs in day care and—”

“We can take him with us.” He could hardly believe he’d said that. Spending time with a baby hadn’t been part of the plan. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even seen a baby. But he’d sensed a refusal coming and damn if he was going to give up that easily. He could deal. How hard could it be?

She laughed shortly. “You want to have dinner with a baby in tow? You?”

Just a second ago, he’d been doubting his own sanity for the same reason, but somehow hearing her laugh at the very idea was insulting. “I haven’t eaten a child in at least a decade,” he said solemnly. “I think your son will be safe.”

A smile was still curving the corners of her mouth. “He will, but will you survive?”

“It’s dinner, Charlie. I think I can handle it.”

“Mr. Waverly …”

“Vance,” he corrected.

She looked horrified, and Vance felt a rush of irritation.

“I don’t think I can call you that.”

He scowled at her. She wasn’t making this easy. He’d never had to work this hard to get a woman to spend time with him in his life. He had fully expected her to accept his invitation with a pleased smile and a gracious thank-you. Should have known, he told himself, that Charlie Potter wouldn’t do the expected.

“I’m the boss,” he reminded her again, “so if I say you can, it’s okay.”

“All right then, Vance.” She shook her head a little as if to dispel the weirdness of the moment. “As I said, I do appreciate it, but I just can’t imagine you spending time with a baby.”

Irritation sparked inside him. He wasn’t a damn monster. So what if he was never around children? What difference did that make? Millions of people dealt with babies every day. Besides, he was Vance Waverly. There was nothing he couldn’t handle. “Rumor has it, I was actually a child once myself.”

“Do they make suits that small?”

He cocked his head and studied her. “Are you teasing me?”

“A little bit,” she admitted.

Vance couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. More surprising was the fact that he was sort of enjoying himself. Something else he hadn’t planned on.

“That’s fine.” His gaze locked with hers, he said softly, “I can take it.”

“Mr. Waverly—Vance,” she corrected herself before he could. “I don’t know what’s going on, but …”

She was going to turn him down and, dammit, he wasn’t going to let her. He told himself he was doing this for Waverly’s, but the truth was more complicated than that. And he didn’t want to examine that any further.

Leaning forward, he braced his forearms on his knees and looked into her eyes. “Charlie, it’s just dinner. When you’re finished here, we’ll get your son and go get something to eat.”

Narrowing her eyes on him, she said, “That sounds a lot like an order.”

“Does it have to be?”

She thought about that for a moment, then nodded. “It might make it easier on me.”

He blew out a breath and fought down a fresh stirring of irritation. “I’m only talking about dinner, for God’s sake, not taking you to Bali for a sex-filled weekend—”

That thought stopped him cold then heated him up as his mind filled with some truly amazing images. Charlie naked, her skin glowing in the moonlight, her long, blond hair spread across a pillow. Her eyes looking up at him, her arms—He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and realized that she was speaking.

“Uh,” she said, nervously, “okay then. Dinner. Sure. Um, it’ll be an hour at least before I can leave, though.”

“Fine,” he muttered, wondering where in the hell those thoughts and images had come from. And he couldn’t help wondering if the same kind of imagery had filled her mind, too.

“Charlie!” Justin’s voice came from the other room. “I need you in here!”

“Coming.” She sounded grateful as she answered Justin and that told Vance all he needed to know. Her mind had taken the same kind of imaginative trip his had. It seemed she was recovering a lot quicker than Vance, though.

She jumped to her feet and looked down at him. “Are you going out to watch the auction?”

Gritting his teeth against the pain in his groin, he said tightly, “Yeah. I’ll be out there in a minute. You go ahead.”

She looked at him oddly, but shrugged. “I’ll see you later.”

“Vance,” he prompted.

“Vance,” she said softly.

Nodding, he watched her go, his gaze dropping to the curve of her behind in the narrow black skirt she was wearing. And then farther down to those black heels that made her legs look so long and slender and—

Stop watching her or you’ll never be able to get out of here, he told himself and turned to reach for a damn cupcake.

The auction picked up speed as some of the more fabulous pieces were brought out. On any other day, Charlie would have been enjoying herself immensely. But how could she keep her mind on business when she had a threat hanging over her head? Worry was constantly plucking at the edges of her mind.

But if she was going to be honest with herself, not even her would-be blackmailer had her as rattled as Vance Waverly did. Sex-filled weekend in Bali?

As soon as he’d blurted out those words in a flash of frustration, her mind had taken her on the quickest imaginary trip in the history of the world. Instantly, she’d seen the two of them—Vance and her—on a beach, beneath the moon, leaning into each other. His arms came around her and his hands on her naked skin were as hot as the passion burning in his eyes.

In one split second, she had gone from thinking of Vance Waverly as boss to imagining him as lover. What had stunned her was just how easy that shift in thinking had been. She had absolutely no trouble at all imagining him in her bed and that meant she was in some seriously deep water.

Her heart kicked hard in her chest and her mouth was dry, just remembering the flash of something hot and dangerous that shone in his eyes so briefly as their gazes met.

What was she supposed to be feeling? How was she supposed to act? And why was he being so nice all of a sudden? So … interested in her?

Taking her and Jake to dinner? Most men ran for the hills the moment they found out a woman was a single mother. And Vance—how weird and yet exciting was it to think of him as Vance—didn’t strike her as the kind of man who was fond of children, either. So why?

“Sold for $47,000,” the auctioneer intoned and Charlie gratefully came up out of her confusing thoughts. She was up next and she needed to keep her mind on what she was doing.

She looked down at the porcelain display stand that held the necklace Justin had shown her earlier in the week. The porcelain resembled a woman’s neck, showcasing the necklace far better than having it lie flat on a bed of velvet ever could. Charlie hated having to carry the necklace into the room because she was terrified of dropping it. But she slapped a smile on her face and stepped out into the salesroom.

“Now, we have the last item up for bid and by far the star of this collection. The queen of Cadria’s diamond-and-ruby necklace. As you can see,” the auctioneer said, “the detail is astonishing.”

A close-up picture of the necklace was displayed on the wide flat screen behind the podium and a sigh of appreciation rose up from the women in the room.

Charlie could understand that sentiment completely. The jewels themselves were beautiful, even though Justin had pointed out that the antique cuts of the diamonds and rubies actually lowered the price. Which made no sense to her at all, but since she wasn’t going to be buying it …

As she walked down the center aisle, the auctioneer said, “This magnificent necklace was a wedding present to the former queen of Cadria. Legend promises a happy marriage to the woman who wears this beauty. Please check your programs for the total carat weight. Bidding starts at $150,000.”

Charlie staggered a little at that, but caught herself quickly. Cradling the display stand even more carefully, she continued down the center aisle, pausing occasionally to allow the attendees to get a better look. In the last row, she spotted Vance, sitting alone, his gaze locked, not on the necklace, but on her.

Instantly, she remembered that imaginary beach in Bali and the feel of his hands on her and everything inside Charlie quickened. Her heartbeat jumped into a gallop and something delicious stirred inside her. She wasn’t used to men looking at her with such … hunger. But it was unmistakable and Charlie told herself that going to dinner with Vance might just be opening a door that would be better left closed.

The heat in his eyes raised her temperature enough that she felt warm all over and she knew that whether it was a smart move or not, she would be opening that door. His eyes burned and his features were cool and dispassionate as he met her gaze. No one looking at him would have guessed what he was thinking, but Charlie knew.

She gave him a small smile that wasn’t returned before she headed up the center aisle to take her place beside the podium. The bidding was fierce, but she had zoned out, so she really didn’t notice much more than the flash of an upraised paddle or the wave of a hand.

She didn’t hear a thing, beyond the buzzing in her own ears and the pounding thrum of her own heart. How had her life taken such a gigantic turn in the space of a week or so? Not only was she being blackmailed, but she was having seriously erotic daydreams about a man who had terrified her just a few days ago.

Maybe she was having a breakdown. That would explain a lot.

Drawing her mind away from thoughts that were churning too fast to be examined, she looked down at the necklace and found herself hoping that it went to someone who would appreciate it for its beauty not just for the investment it represented. Something that beautiful deserved to be worn. Touched.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,” the auctioneer announced. “This concludes our auction today and Waverly’s would like to extend our thanks for your patronage. There is a champagne reception in the main salon, should you care to linger. And to those of you fortunate enough to have won the pieces you wanted, we will conclude our business in the anteroom. Thank you all again.”

A sedate round of applause broke out and Charlie came up from her thoughts to realize that her mind had been so busy, she hadn’t even heard the winning bid. Turning for the anteroom, she carefully carried the necklace back inside.

Her turn as a would-be Cinderella was over and it was time to let go of the royal jewels and go back to her pumpkin-filled life.

“That was amazing,” Justin cooed as she handed him the queen’s necklace.

The whole day had been amazing as far as Charlie was concerned. “What was the final selling price?”

“You didn’t hear?”

She shook her head. “I must have zoned out.”

Justin just stared at her as if he couldn’t understand how anyone could not pay attention to something as important as diamonds and rubies. “The final came in as a phone bid.” He paused to frown. “I hate phone bids. I like to know who bought one of our pieces.”

Charlie smiled, because Justin really was very proprietary when it came to the jewels in his care.

“Anyway,” he said airily, “the necklace finally went for three seventy-five.”

Charlie blinked at him in astonishment. “Three hundred seventy-five thousand dollars?”

Justin’s eyebrows wiggled and his squinty eyes sparkled with glee. “I said it was an amazing piece, didn’t I?”

She looked down at the necklace, with its antique jewels shining up at her, and took a long, slow breath. “I’m so glad I didn’t hear that when I was still holding it.”

“Thanks for your help tonight, hon.” Justin set the porcelain stand down onto the pedestal waiting for it.

Whoever the lucky bidder was would be paying for the necklace right now. Then it would be wrapped up to be sent from Waverly’s. She didn’t even want to imagine how someone would get such an expensive item safely home. Did you hire armed guards? But that was so not her problem.

“You know I love working the auctions, Justin.” She checked her wristwatch. “I’d better get moving, though. Still have to pick up Jake.”

“Sure, sure.”

“You ready?”

Vance’s deep voice sounded out from the doorway behind her and Charlie felt a small, involuntary sizzle of reaction shoot through her veins. She so didn’t want to feel that. Had no business sizzling over her boss. Yet, somehow, her body wasn’t getting that message.

“Yes,” she said, turning to face him.

“Ready for what?” Justin asked in a suspiciously innocent tone.

Oh, damn. Charlie loved Justin, she really did, but the man wouldn’t know how to keep a secret if someone stapled his lips shut. Surely Vance knew that. So why had he spoken up unless he didn’t care if people knew they were going to dinner? And if he didn’t care, was this more of a business thing than a date? But if it was a business thing, would she be calling him Vance? Would he have really said that about sex and Bali?

And why couldn’t she stop thinking about it?

Vance didn’t say anything and Justin was waiting, shifting his far-too-interested gaze back and forth between the two of them.

Finally, Charlie said, “Vance—I mean Mr. Waverly—is giving Jake and I a ride home.”

“Hmmm …”

“First to dinner, then a ride home,” Vance clarified.

Charlie groaned inwardly.

“I see,” Justin said, his eyes shining so brightly now it was a wonder they weren’t giving off actual sparks. “Well, then, don’t let me hold you up any longer.”

When the older man winked at her, Charlie sighed. Damage done. Justin’s romantic heart and love of gossip would take care of alerting the building to whatever was or wasn’t going on between her and Vance.

She picked up her purse from a nearby chair and slipped the strap over her shoulder. Looking up at her boss, she said, “We might as well go.”

As soon as they were out of earshot, Charlie glanced at Vance. “You do realize that by tomorrow, everyone at Waverly’s will know that we went to dinner together.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve known Justin a long time.”

“So why did you say anything in front of him?”

“You wanted to keep our dinner date a secret?”

“Not a secret,” she countered as they stepped into the elevator for the short trip to the fourth-floor day-care center. “But—”

One eyebrow lifted. “Is there a problem?”

“Shouldn’t there be?” she asked, unsure what she should be thinking now. He was her boss, and now her date. He didn’t seem to care who knew, but she felt odd about the whole situation. He was making her feel things she didn’t want yet certainly enjoyed. Then there was the fact that his family had founded Waverly’s and now there was a blackmailer trying to make her betray not only him but the auction house she loved.

Could her life get any more complicated?

“I think,” Vance said, taking her hand in his, “you’re thinking too much.”

Her palm to his, heat swamped her. When he drew her out of the elevator and led her down the hall to where Jake waited, Charlie knew she was in really big trouble.

The worst part?

She didn’t care.

Vance was in hell.

He could tell because of the screaming.

When he had invited Charlie out to dinner, he’d had in mind a nice steak place. Not too elegant, not too casual. Just a nice in-between, with good service and a quiet atmosphere so they could talk. So he could try to discover if she was an enemy or not.

He had not planned on a zoo-themed diner where children outnumbered adults and the specialty of the house was macaroni and cheese.

“You look uncomfortable.”

“What?” He shouted to be heard over the screaming three-year-old in the booth behind him.

“I said, you look like you’re miserable and wishing that you were anywhere but here.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Okay, I just thought most of that, but you do look miserable.”

She didn’t, Vance noticed. Her son was in a high chair pulled up to their table. Vance didn’t know much about babies—happily—but this one seemed good-looking and far better behaved than the little tyrants running all over the restaurant.

“It’s just a little loud.”

“Is it?” She shrugged and shredded a piece of chicken onto her son’s tray table. “I didn’t notice.”

“Really?” He leaned forward, and frowned when his elbow came down in a spill of soda. “I didn’t realize you were deaf.”

She laughed and something inside Vance fisted so tightly, he could hardly breathe. When she smiled, she was beautiful. When she laughed, she was incomparable. Her whole face lit up, her eyes shone and the laugh itself was not one of those quiet, restrained society titters; this was full-throated laughter that had him grinning in response.

“I’m so sorry, Vance. This is just killing you, isn’t it?”

Suddenly, it didn’t seem so bad after all. “Doesn’t bother me a bit.”

“Other than making you wear the expression of a man who would like to chew off his own foot to escape.”

He frowned. “That’s not what I’m feeling.”

“Then you should smile to reassure me.”

He did and she said, “You really should do that more often. You’re far less intimidating when you smile.”

“Maybe I like being intimidating.”

“Well, you are really good at it,” she said, then leaned over and kissed her son’s forehead. The little boy grinned and kicked his feet before grabbing a tiny fistful of shredded chicken.

Vance glanced around the diner—he refused to think of the place as a restaurant. The servers were dressed in animal-print uniforms, as zebras, lions, tigers. There were other employees over by the play area dressed in wild animal costumes and they were being besieged by an army of toddlers. Vance couldn’t even fathom a worse job.

But he was here with Charlie and she was happy and relaxed, so he decided to make the best of the situation. While she had her guard down, he would gather as much information as he could. And by the end of the night, he would know if she was an enemy—or a potential lover.

Six

Vance leaned in toward her so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice above a roar. “So what did you think of the auction?”

Her gaze snapped to his and excitement shone in her blue eyes. “It was wonderful. It is every time, but today, seeing the royal jewels? Knowing that I was touching something worn by a queen more than a hundred years ago? Wonderful, if terrifying.”

“Terrifying?”

“Did you hear what that necklace sold for?” She shook her head and laughed. “I was terrified I’d drop it or accidentally twist the gold wire or gouge out a stone or something….”

His mouth quirked. “A busy imagination.”

“Oh, incredibly busy. I’ll probably drive Jake crazy as he grows up. If he gets a cold, in my head it escalates in seconds to pneumonia, then an oxygen tent and my donating a lung or something.” She paused, took a breath and said wryly, “Now that you know I’m nuts, feel free to run.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not, are you?” She tipped her head to one side to look at him and a cascade of blond hair swung down by her shoulder like a slice of sunlight. “I wonder why.”

He wondered that, too. She wasn’t the kind of woman who usually drew him in and, yet, she fascinated him enough that he was willing to put up with complete bedlam just to sit across the table from her.

“Anyway,” she said, returning to his earlier question, “I love the auctions. Being part of the excitement, even in a small way.”

Vance nodded. “I understand that completely. My father took me to my first auction when I was ten. It was sports memorabilia. Baseball cards, Babe Ruth’s glove, Ted Williams’s favorite bat, that kind of thing.” She was smiling at him, silently encouraging him to go on.

So he did. “Even at ten, I felt that rush you were talking about. Seeing those things from the past getting a new shot at being appreciated …”

“Exactly.” Absentmindedly, she reached out and patted his hand in solidarity. “Like the jewelry today. Justin says the collection was most likely kept locked away in Cadria, in a vault or a crown jewels room—who knows? But today, the pieces were in the light again. Being admired. People were buying them so they could be worn again. Dazzle again.” She sighed.

“Liked the jewelry, did you?”

“What woman wouldn’t? Especially that necklace. But it wasn’t just the stones themselves, it was the romance of it. A wedding present from a king to his queen. The legend of happily-ever-after attached to it. The diamonds and rubies themselves were just part of the whole.” She shook her head, still awestruck. “Amazing.”

Behind Vance, the crazed three-year-old was shouting about cake and his parents were quietly telling him to use his inside voice. Vance wasn’t sure the kid had an inside voice and if he did, whether it would be heard in the cacophony of sound.

Keeping his voice as low as he could and still be heard, he leaned toward Charlie and caught her gaze with his.

“How’d you get interested in auctions? I mean, I was born into it. What’s your reason?”

The waitress showed up with two coffees and a small dish of fresh fruit. As Charlie cut the pieces of cantaloupe, watermelon and grapes into even tinier pieces for her son, she started talking.

“In college I went to a few auctions with friends.” She lifted her gaze to his. “Nothing like the ones we hold at Waverly’s, of course. These were more country auctions, selling crates of mystery goods or farm equipment, some furniture and antiques. But the feeling was the same, if you know what I mean. The sense of anticipation—people hoping to find something special. Maybe buying a painting for a dollar and discovering an old master under an ugly dog playing poker—”

He laughed.

Charlie shrugged and said, “It was everything. The auctioneer, the crowds, the bidding. I loved all of it. So when my grandmother died—”

“Your grandmother?”

She stopped and he read hesitation in her eyes as she bit at her bottom lip. He knew she hadn’t meant to say that and his curiosity was piqued.

“My grandmother raised me,” she said briefly then hurried on. “Anyway, when she died, I packed up and moved to New York. Two years ago, I got a job at Waverly’s. I started out in HR, but worked my way up, and now I work for the boss.”

He laughed. “One of the bosses, anyway.”

“Why did you take us to dinner?” Charlie asked suddenly. She smoothed wisps of light brown hair off her son’s forehead and said, “I can’t imagine you’ve been dying to have dinner with a bunch of screaming kids.” Her eyes widened as she looked past him. “Oops.”

Vance felt someone watching him and slowly turned his head to meet the three-year-old screamer’s big, dark eyes. The boy was hanging over the back of the bench seat, watching him intently. Vance stared right back at him. When the boy stuck out his tongue, Charlie laughed and Vance winced.

“Trevor!” the boy’s mother snapped, and dragged him back down to his seat. “Sorry,” she murmured.

Shaking his head, Vance turned back to Charlie. “Clearly the evil Boss Stare doesn’t work on kids,” he muttered, then looked into her eyes. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Would it be wrong to say yes?”

“Yes, it would.”

Soberly, she nodded. “Then no, I don’t like it at all. It’s absolutely terrible how you’re suffering.”

He gave her a rueful smile. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been teased. Usually people—women—were wary around him. They spoke softly and moved slowly, as if he were a live grenade about to go off. Not Charlie. And while he never wanted to see this diner again, he was actually having a good time.

Something he hadn’t expected. He’d only thought about how to get her talking. To spilling secrets, if she had any. But if she had those secrets, they were still her own. Which meant that he’d be spending more time with her.

A plan he didn’t have a problem with.

When her son rubbed at his eyes with tiny fists, Charlie said, “I have to get him home to bed.”

“It’s barely eight.”

Tipping her head to look at him, she said, “Babies go to bed earlier than we do.”

“Oh, right.” Idiot. He signaled the waitress for the bill and took care of it while Charlie cleaned up her son. Once they were ready, he stood up and Charlie lifted the little boy from the high chair.

Instantly, Jake held out both pudgy arms to Vance.

Vance stared at the boy for a long moment. The baby’s hair was practically standing on end. There was a food stain on his I love Mommy T-shirt. And his dark blue eyes were fixed on Vance as if he were Santa and the Easter Bunny rolled into one. He’d never been around babies much and hadn’t really missed the experience. Until tonight, Vance would have said he had zero interest in kids altogether.

But this baby seemed … different, somehow. Certainly quieter than the other kids in the diner. It was younger, softer and it had a dimple in its left cheek, just like its mother.

“Jake …” Charlie was clearly surprised by her son’s move and, frankly, so was Vance. But who was he to argue? He reached for the boy, tucked him against his chest and headed for the front door, Charlie trailing behind.

The baby laid his head down on Vance’s shoulder and, despite his best efforts, something inside Vance melted.

“I cannot believe I had to hear this from Justin! Did you lose your phone again?”

“No,” Charlie said, laughing. “I haven’t lost my phone in almost two years, thanks. And I was going to tell you but—”

“You were too busy dating your boss?”

Charlie had a feeling that Katie’s stunned expression was probably an echo of her own. Heck, she had lived through last night and she was still feeling the shock. After dinner the night before, Vance had hailed a cab to take Jake and her home. The surprise was when Vance had joined them for the trip.

Jake had fallen asleep on the way home, cuddled comfortably against Vance’s broad chest. Though she’d offered to take the baby from him, Vance had held the boy all the way to her apartment. And for a moment or two, Charlie had actually been envious of her son.

Being with Vance in the quiet of the cab had been … nice. They talked as the city whizzed past in a stream of subdued noise and neon color and when they were finally at the small apartment she called home, Vance had walked her to her door, handed Jake to her and said good-night.

“I can’t believe this,” Katie was saying in an awed, hushed tone. “You do know the whole building’s talking about this.”

“Thank you, Justin,” Charlie said on a sigh.

“Well, even if he hadn’t told, you never could have kept this a secret for long. You have to know that.”

“I suppose so.” She frowned and said, “I don’t think Vance even cares if people know.”

“Vance?” Katie repeated that one word in a dumbfounded tone. “You call him Vance?”

“‘Mr. Waverly’ seemed a little formal for a date.”

Her friend shook her head slowly. “A date. With your boss.”

“Are you getting past that anytime soon?”

“I don’t think so,” Katie admitted, then shifted on the stone bench to look at her. “Did he kiss you?”

Charlie’s mind slipped back to the night before. When her apartment door was open and the light from inside was slanted across Vance’s face as he looked down at her. There had been a sort of expectant hush hanging in the air between them. He bent down, she leaned in toward him and for one heart-stopping moment, she was just a breath away from being kissed. But then Jake woke up with a cry and the cab driver honked impatiently and the moment was gone. Probably for the best. She was sure that was a date Vance would never want repeated, so why indulge in any more fantasies?

“No.”

“Well, that sucks.” Frowning, the tiny redhead with bright green eyes grumbled, “And how did I miss all this excitement?”

Charlie shook her head and grinned at her friend. Katie lived in an apartment upstairs from her and most mornings they rode the subway into work together. In fact, it was Katie who had helped Charlie get the apartment in her building. “You weren’t home last night for me to tell and this morning you came in early, so we didn’t get a chance to talk on the train.”

“All true. Still. Dating your boss. It’s sort of sexy, unless,” she added with a shudder, “it’s my boss.”

“I think Vance was just being nice.”

“Uh-huh. He took you and Jake to dinner, then brought you all the way home to Queens just to be nice. Sure, I buy that.”

Frowning, Charlie took a sip of her iced tea and studied the faces of the people hurrying down Fifth Avenue. They often brought their lunch out here to sit and watch the city go by. It was hot, steamy and the lunchtime lines at the food carts were busy. Even in the summer heat, it was nice to get out of the building for a while and rejoin humanity.

Especially now, when Charlie was doing everything she could to avoid thinking about her blackmailer. She’d received another email threat just that morning and the message was burned into her brain.

No more stalling, it had said. Get those files or risk losing your son.

She was running out of time and was no closer to knowing what to do about it. She couldn’t steal files. And she couldn’t not steal them. Lose her job, lose her son. It was a vicious circle with no way of winning.

“Katie,” she said abruptly, turning her head to look at her friend, “have you heard anything about Rothschild’s lately?”

“Like what?”

“Anything.”

Katie shrugged. “A couple of people are talking about that article in the paper. You know, the bit about Ms. Richardson and Dalton Rothschild. Did they or didn’t they? But I mean, who cares? If they did, it’s not as if she would have handed him the keys to Waverly’s, you know?”

Charlie chewed at her bottom lip. “But it doesn’t look good.”

“True, but Ms. Richardson is devoted to Waverly’s. She wouldn’t put the auction house at risk.” A long pause. “Would she?”

The problem was, Charlie didn’t know. And neither did Vance apparently or he wouldn’t have asked her to listen for gossip at the house. She worried. It wasn’t a coincidence that the article had appeared in the paper the very same day she’d received that first threatening email. Whoever was behind her current trouble was no doubt also the source of that article.

What did that tell her? A lot of nothing, really.

“Hey,” Katie said, nudging Charlie with her shoulder. “Don’t take it so personally. These big companies are always having some kind of trouble. They’ll work it out.”

“You’re not worried?”

“The only thing I’m worried about is finishing the audit of last quarter’s books before my boss decides to have a stroke on my desk.”

Charlie smiled, but it was halfhearted. Thankfully, Katie didn’t seem to notice. She’d give anything to be as uninterested in what was happening as her friend apparently was.

“I’ve got to get back to work,” Katie said abruptly after a check of her phone for the time. “I’ll meet you for the subway ride home … unless you get a better offer.”

“Not much chance of that,” Charlie said. “I’ll see you later.”

She still had twenty minutes before she had to return to work and she was in no hurry to face her computer and the email program that had her so spooked. So she’d just finish her tea, and then stop by the day-care center to see Jake on her way back upstairs.

“Waiting for someone?” Vance’s voice came from behind her.

“Were you watching me?” she asked, turning to look up at him.

“Watching sounds so stalkerlike,” he said as he sat down on the stone bench beside her. He laid one arm along the back of the bench and stretched out his legs, crossing his feet at the ankles. “I prefer … admiring.”

Charlie shook her head. She’d seen so many different sides of Vance in the last week or so, she could hardly keep them all straight. He was ruthless in business, didn’t tolerate stupidity in the workplace and was gentle with her son. He laughed when she teased him and gave her looks that set fire to her insides. Now he was sprawled on a stone bench in the hot sun as if he had all the time in the world when she knew he was a workaholic.

“I saw your friend go back to work, so thought I’d join you,” he said, tipping his face up to the brilliant blue sky and the blistering sun. “Nice day.”

“It’s hot.”

He tilted his head to look at her. “Yeah, but nice anyway. What’s wrong, Charlie?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You seem a little on edge.”

“No, just thinking.”

“About?”

“Lots of things.”

“Want to narrow that down any?” he asked.

“Not really.” She wouldn’t have known where to begin. Besides, it wasn’t as if she could tell him she was being blackmailed. And she couldn’t very well tell him that whatever thoughts weren’t being taken up by the mystery threats were devoted to him. God, could this get any more complicated?

He straightened up, but kept that one arm along the bench, almost close enough to touch Charlie. She had the strangest impulse to lean back into him. But she didn’t do it. “Your friend. She works at Waverly’s?”

“Yeah,” Charlie told him, taking a sip of her tea. “She’s in Accounting.”

He nodded. “Has she said anything about the situation with Rothschild’s?”

“She doesn’t know anything,” Charlie said on a sigh. “And she’s not really worried about it, either. She thinks it’ll all work itself out.”

He laughed shortly but there was no humor in the sound. “I wish she was right. Truth is, we have no idea what Dalton is up to.”

“Ms. Richardson hasn’t said anything more?”

“No.” He frowned and looked out at the bustle of Fifth Avenue. Charlie followed his gaze and thought how odd it was that the world could go on so blithely while she was tied up in so many knots. Brilliant splashes of color sprouted from the flowers spilling from cement planters. Car horns blared, a siren wailed in the distance and a dog walker herded six dogs of varying sizes along the sidewalk.

“I had a good time last night,” he said quietly.

She laughed, keeping her gaze on the street because it was so much safer than staring into his gold-flecked brown eyes. “No, you didn’t.”

He reached out, cupped her chin and turned her face to his. Then he grinned at her and the flash in his eyes took her breath away. The man was absolutely devastating when he smiled and put his heart into it.

“Crazy,” he said as he released her. “But I really did. Not that I’m in any hurry to go back to the Zoo Diner. Appropriate name for it, by the way. But I had a good time with you.”

God, it would be so easy to let herself fall for him when he was like this. Just the touch of his hand on her skin made her yearn for more. The soft smile on his face had her wanting to kiss that delectably curved mouth. He was the most dangerous man she had ever known.

“Vance, what’re you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

She shifted on the stone bench and felt the sun-warmed heat of it soak into her. Looking into his eyes, she asked, “This. With me. Why are you being … nice?”

One eyebrow went up. She had already noticed that he did that when something caught him off guard.

“I have to have a reason for being nice?”

“It’s just—” She took a breath and blew it out. “You’re acting like you’re interested in me and I’m not sure why. Or what you expect.”

He reached over, took her hand and held it for a second or two. Long enough to get her pulse pounding and her heart rate jumping into high gear. Then he gave her hand a squeeze before letting go and said, “I like you. Is that so strange?”

“I guess not.” Though silently she was saying, Yes, it is strange. I’m your assistant. I’m not rich. I have a baby. I’m not the kind of woman you usually spend time with, so what’s going on? She had seen enough photos of him in the society pages of the newspapers to know that most of the women in his life had trust funds, rich ex-husbands or both. So why, she asked herself again, was he coming on to her?

“Good.” He stood up, checked his watch and said, “Lunch is over and I hear your boss is a real bastard about work hours.”

“Yeah.” She stood up, too. “You wouldn’t believe the stories about him.”

He stopped. “There are stories?”

“Millions of ‘em,” she quipped. “But I don’t gossip.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

There was something here, she thought. Just under their words. A feeling. A sense of something that wasn’t being said. Attraction yes, but that wasn’t all and it felt … off. He trusted her and she wasn’t going to do anything to ruin that. But at the same time, she had a threat hanging over her head that jeopardized everything in her life.

Suddenly, Charlie wanted to tell him all of it. To ask for help. But she was too afraid of what he might think. What he might do. She couldn’t lose her job. She couldn’t lose her son.

So, instead, torn with confusion and indecision, she settled for losing her mind.

“I’ll see you at the office,” she said and tossed her iced tea cup into the nearest trash can.

Then she walked alone down Fifth, part of the crowd, but separate. And she felt the heat of his gaze follow her.

“This is starting to become a habit,” Charlie said when she opened her front door to Vance three nights later. He smiled at her and Charlie’s heart did a slow flip and curl. The man was just … overpowering. Even now, when he was wearing blue jeans, a short-sleeved red shirt and a pair of boots, he exuded power and a sensual heat that should have been illegal.

Every evening since the first night he had brought her home, Vance had appeared at her door, and they’d gone for long walks with Jake. Sometimes they window-shopped, sometimes they stopped for cookies and a latte. Most of the time, they just took turns pushing Jake’s stroller and … talking.

And Charlie was getting way too used to it.

Vance leaned against the doorjamb and grinned at her. “Are you complaining?” he asked, then half turned. “Because I could leave …”

“No,” she said quickly. She wasn’t sure what was going on between her and her boss, but whatever it was, she liked it. Probably too much. “Not complaining.”

“Good.” His eyes fixed on her and Charlie’s heartbeat quickened. Then he squatted down to eye level with the toddler in his stroller. “So, Jake, where to tonight?”

The tiny boy squealed with delight and shouted “Ba! Ba!”

Vance looked up at Charlie. “He says a night at the ballet would be clichéd. He’d prefer a stroll through the park.”

“Well, then,” Charlie said, laughing, “by all means.”

Vance maneuvered the stroller out the front door and down the short set of steps to the grass. Charlie pulled the door closed behind her and locked it. Then she paused to take a quick look up and down her street. She loved it here.

Her apartment building had once been a grand old house, built to look like a Tudor-style English manor. Years ago, it had been converted into four apartments. She had the ground-floor apartment on the right side and her friend Katie was just upstairs. Charlie never would have been able to afford an apartment in this area ordinarily, but the owner was an elderly woman currently living in England and she had a soft spot for babies, so she’d made Charlie an excellent deal.

The streets in Forest Hills, Queens, were narrow and decked with trees that looked as though they’d been there for centuries. Her neighbors were quiet but friendly and Manhattan was just a train ride away. But here, New York moved more slowly and Charlie could almost convince herself that she was living in a small town again. It was a perfect place to raise Jake. She looked at Vance smiling at her son and thought, at the moment, everything was perfect.

“Where are you guys going tonight?” a woman’s voice called out and shattered the quiet.

Charlie sighed, turned and looked up. Katie was hanging out her living room window, grinning down at them. She had probably been haunting her window just waiting for Vance to show up. Charlie couldn’t really blame her. This was all so odd, so out of the ordinary …

“To the park,” Vance answered, then picked up the stuffed dog Jake had tossed.

“Have a good time,” Katie said, a teasing tone in her voice. Then she gave Charlie a knowing wink before darting back into her apartment. No doubt, Katie would be turning up with a bottle of wine and a dozen questions later tonight. Charlie only wished she had a few answers for her.

Charlie turned to Vance. “You realize that Katie has told everyone at Waverly’s about your coming to see me every night.”

He shrugged. “Do you care?”

She should, Charlie knew. Getting involved with Vance Waverly was probably a huge mistake. But looking into his eyes, she knew she couldn’t regret a moment of this—whatever it was. Every evening, when the light was just slipping away, he showed up to spend time with her and Jake. And every evening, she told herself not to expect him. Not to look for him. But she did anyway and when she saw him, her heart got a little more involved. How could it not? He was so good with Jake. And so much fun to talk to. And when he took her hand in his, she felt … treasured.

Silly.

“No,” she said firmly, “I don’t care.”

“Good.” He smiled at her as if she’d given him the perfect answer. “So let’s go.”

They walked a few blocks east and the world changed perceptibly. As lovely as her street was and as much as she loved it, Charlie always felt a little twinge of … not envy, exactly, just a bit wistful when she walked through Forest Hills Gardens. Exclusive mansions sprawled behind wide, manicured lawns and what looked like private forests.

“I haven’t been in this neighborhood since I was a kid,” Vance mused.

“You lived here?” Charlie couldn’t imagine living in a more beautiful spot. She could practically see Jake growing up on these gorgeous streets, riding his bike up and down circular driveways, climbing the majestic trees. Of course, that was a completely unrealistic daydream—but what was the point of having ordinary dreams?

“No, a friend of my father’s did,” Vance said. “We used to visit him a lot. Funny, I haven’t thought of this place in years. But it’s really nice, isn’t it? And close to the city.”

“It’s perfect is what it is,” Charlie said, with a little sigh of pleasure.

“Yeah?” He stopped pushing the stroller and looked at her. “If you had to pick, which house would you buy?”

She took a deep breath and smiled. “It wouldn’t be easy to choose, but I do have a favorite,” she admitted, because she had played this little game with herself every time she took Jake for a walk down there. There were brick mansions and bungalow styles. There was even a home with a red Spanish tile roof. But the house she loved had stood out for her from the beginning. Hooking her arm through his, she gave Vance a tug and said, “Come on. It’s a little farther down.”

Halfway down the block, she stopped. Giving his arm a squeeze, she said, “That’s my house. Well,” she added with a half shrug, “the owners don’t know it, of course.”

She always found the chance to walk past the house she considered her dream home. It was like an English cottage only bigger. It was three stories high with sloped roofs and dark red shutters on the windows. There were brilliant splashes of pink and yellow flowers crouched around the long porch, and the wide double front doors were arched, like a storybook castle.

“It’s beautiful,” Vance said.

“It really is,” she agreed, and met his gaze only to find him staring at her not the house. “All it needs is a porch swing.”

“You’d like a swing?”

“Oh, yes. That would be nice,” she mused, staring at the house for another long moment. “Sitting outside, watching the sun go down, saying hi to your neighbors …” Her voice trailed off as she turned her head to look up at him.

A soft, warm wind raced down the street. From a few houses down came the rhythmic thumping of a basketball, and a dog barked just because he wanted to be heard. The light in the sky was easing into twilight and Jake was in his stroller, laughing and talking to himself.

It was a perfect moment.

Vance leaned toward her. Charlie went up on her toes, her gaze drifting from his eyes to his mouth and back again. Her heartbeat was pounding and the world around her seemed to take a breath and hold it in anticipation.

His mouth was just an inch from hers when Jake tossed his stuffed animal and then howled in frustration. The baby’s shout broke the spell growing between Charlie and Vance and she could only be grateful for it.

Infatuation was one thing. Allowing herself to make a fool of herself over a man she would never be able to have was something else entirely.

Quickly, she picked up the stuffed dog, handed it back to Jake and told Vance, “We should get Jake home.”

“I suppose it is getting late,” Vance murmured.

She flashed him a glance, then looked away quickly. It was already too late, Charlie thought. Her heart was involved whether she wanted to admit it or not.

A week later, Vance was wound too tight and seriously on edge. The only one he hadn’t lost his temper with was Charlie. Which was ironic, considering that she was the one who had his insides tied into knots that only got tighter with every passing second.

The woman was getting to him and that had not been in the plan. Every damn day around her, his blood ran hotter, his mind clouded a little further and the idea of having her dug claws of need ever deeper into him.

Add to that the fact that he knew damn well she was lying to him about something. They’d spent nearly every night together. Oh, not in bed. More’s the pity, he told himself. But at dinner, taking Jake for walks or just sitting around her small, tidy apartment in Queens.

Hell, he was going to Queens for her. What was next? Brooklyn? At the thought, he jumped up from his desk chair and stared down onto the tree-lined street below Waverly’s.

Charlie was antsy. Nervous. And getting worse every day. She checked through the daily mail as if afraid of what she might find. She jumped when he entered a room and just yesterday, one of the security guards reported that Charlie had been in the records room, where all the old files and reports were kept. Why the hell would she be down there? And why hadn’t she told him? What was she hiding?

His gut told him something was off with Charlie. Another part of his anatomy told him he shouldn’t care. His mind was stuck somewhere in the middle.

When the office intercom buzzed, he stabbed at the button, focusing all his frustration on it. “What is it?”

“Jeez,” Charlie said. “Bite my head off.”

He rubbed one hand across his face and shook his head even as he smiled to himself. It hadn’t taken long for Charlie to feel at ease in the boss-assistant relationship. “Sorry. A lot on my mind. What is it?”

“Security’s on line 2 for you,” she said a little breathlessly.

“Right.” He didn’t think about the fact that she sounded nervous. Instead, he punched a button on his phone and said, “Waverly.”

“Mr. Waverly, this is Carl in Security. You asked us to let you know if anything out of the ordinary happened.”

“Yeah?” Hell, he’d had the whole place on alert for the past couple of weeks in hopes that they might catch whoever might be trying to sell them out to Rothschild’s. Now that they had something, though, Vance wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to hear what was coming.

Carl said, “We had the IT department keeping a tight lock-down on sensitive areas—in general, setting up their version of alarms. They alerted us to the fact that someone in your office was trying to access secure files this morning. And it wasn’t from your computer.”

This morning, when Vance had been at a meeting with a potential client. When Charlie was alone in the office.

“What files?” He shot a look at the closed door separating him from Charlie. Was she worried, knowing that he was talking to Security?

“Apparently,” Carl told him, “they were older records on minor auctions. According to the IT guys, this person didn’t get to anything important. A new firewall’s going up as we speak so everything’s secure.” Carl paused and asked, “Is there anything you’d like us to handle?”

“No.” His brain was racing and anger was beginning to churn inside. He needed to take care of this himself. He needed to look Charlie in the eye when he confronted her, because only then would he know for sure if she was being honest. Her face gave away everything she was thinking, feeling; he’d already learned that much about her. And hell, for all he knew, it hadn’t been her. She might have been in another part of the building and someone else had slipped in to use her computer just to incriminate her.

He wasn’t going to assume she was guilty of anything. Not yet, anyway. But he didn’t like it. He didn’t like the notion that Charlie was a traitor.

“I’ll take care of it,” he told Carl and hung up a second later. All he had to do now was figure out how.

Seven

Charlie hated this. Hated feeling on edge all the time. Hated the sense of guilt that seemed to cling to the edges of her mind constantly these days.

Vance was being so nice. And she was lying to him. Every time she spoke to him, she lied. Her grandmother had always insisted, It’s a lie, Charlie, if you know something and you don’t say so. Same as if you were spinning tales yourself. And Gran had been right. Charlie knew something dangerous and she wasn’t saying anything about it because of her need to protect herself. And her son.

Which made her a liar.

And now Vance was talking to Security. Was it about her? Had someone seen something? Was she being watched by someone besides her blackmailer? Oh, God.

Charlie opened up her email program and clicked Reply on the latest threat she’d received only that morning. When that threat had come in, she’d actually tried to open up the older record files this morning, but she hadn’t gotten far before she had shut everything down. She couldn’t do it. Not to Waverly’s. Not to Vance.

Now she typed in a quick note to whoever was threatening her, asking for more time. Even as she hit Send, she knew it wasn’t going to help. This wasn’t going to go away until she either betrayed Vance and Waverly’s or took Jake and ran.

But where would she run? She had no family now. No one. The only people she knew in the world were here, in the city. She had a little savings, but not enough to set herself and Jake up anywhere else. She sat back in her chair, letting her fears rise up until they nearly choked her. When the light on line 2 went out, she shivered. Vance had finished speaking to Security. What was next? Would she be arrested? Fired?

“Gran, I really wish you were still here. I’d run home so fast …”

And just whispering those words made her ashamed. Running away wasn’t the answer and she knew it. She had to face this. Tell Vance the truth and hope to heaven he believed her when she swore she would never sell out Waverly’s.

Oh, God.

Fear still jumped in the pit of her stomach, but somehow, it was easier knowing that at least she’d made a decision. She knew what she had to do. All she needed was the courage to get it done. Because she knew that once she told him about her past, about where she’d come from, he wouldn’t want anything more to do with her. And oh, she would miss him. But first—

She buzzed his office and waited for his gruff reply. “Yes?”

“Vance, I’m taking a break. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

“Sure. Fine.”

He sounded as stern and unyielding as he ever had and she wondered again how a man as ruthless as he was in business could be so different when it was just the two of them. She headed out of the office for the elevator. Before she spoke to Vance, she needed a few minutes with her son.

When she got to the fourth floor, Jake was sleeping.

Charlie slipped into the nap room, walked up to the only occupied crib and stared down at her son. Curled up on his side, Jake had one fist pressed to his mouth and the other curled into his soft, brown hair. His sock-clad feet were drawn up tight and his tiny sighs arrowed straight into her heart.

Scooping him up, Charlie cradled him against her and patted his back until he settled again. She sat in one of the rocking chairs in the shadowy half light and looked down at him through tear-filled eyes. She and her baby boy were alone in the darkened room and his warmth eased some of the chill snaking through her. Smoothing one hand over his hair, Charlie bent close enough to kiss his forehead.

“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she whispered. “I tried, really. I wanted to give you so much and now I don’t know what to do.”

The baby slept on and Charlie relished the solid, warm weight of him close to her heart. No matter what else was wrong with her life, she had Jake. And she wouldn’t let him down. She would give him a safe, warm world to grow up in.

“I’ll fix it somehow, baby boy. Everything is going to be all right.” Was she trying to soothe her son or reassure herself? She didn’t know and wasn’t sure it mattered.

Tears rolled down her cheeks and she let them fall. Here in the dark, who would see?

“Why’re you crying?”

She stopped rocking, lifted her gaze to the doorway and met Vance Waverly’s steady stare. He was tall, gorgeous and, right now, she could see that his eyes, even in the shadows, were glinting with carefully banked fury.

“It’s nothing,” she said, because what else could she possibly say?

“You’re sitting by yourself, holding your sleeping son in the dark and crying. That’s not nothing.” He pushed away from the doorjamb and locked his gaze on her. Even in the shadows, she felt the power of that cool stare. “I have to know something. Are you a spy, Charlie?”

“I’m not a spy,” she said, patting her son’s behind gently, keeping her voice as quiet as she could. Her tears still rained down her face and as Vance entered the room, she tried wiping them away.

Here it was then. She wasn’t going to get the opportunity to confess. To go to him and tell him everything. Instead, he’d found her out and now he was looking at her as if he didn’t know her at all. But then, she thought sadly, he really didn’t.

He squatted down in front of her and locked his gaze with hers. “What’s going on, Charlie? What is it you’re trying so hard not to tell me?”

“Believe it or not, I was going to tell you,” she said softly as Jake murmured in his sleep. “I just needed to see my son first. Sort of center myself, then I was coming to you.”

Vance nodded. “I do believe you. But I’m here now. So talk to me.”

Still meeting his angry eyes, she shook her head. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“How about you put Jake back in his bed and you and I take a walk?”

She took a breath and let it out on a heavy sigh. The time for stalling was over. And oddly, the heavy ball in the pit of her stomach that had been her constant companion for almost two weeks was already dissolving. Living with lies wasn’t easy. Telling the truth wouldn’t be easy, either. But at least she’d be able to breathe again.

Charlie stood up, settled Jake back down again, then turned to look up at Vance. Lifting her chin, she whispered, “It’s a long story.”

He took her to the park. Central Park on a bright summer day was filled with locals and tourists and was far enough away from Waverly’s that whatever they said would stay between them. They stayed clear of the lakes and the swimming pool, skirted the carousel and the zoo. He bought them each a bottle of water from a waffle vendor, then steered her toward a wooden bench beside a walking path through the trees.

Vance sat down beside her on the bench beneath an ancient willow. The tree’s branches hung low, its feathery leaves grudgingly waving in the desultory breeze. The scent of flowers and burned coffee from a nearby food cart filled the air as they sat in the dappled shade.

Of course, Vance had followed her when she’d left her desk to take that “break.” Angry and suspicious, he’d felt like a third-rate private detective, slinking along in her wake as she made her way through Waverly’s. He’d had no idea what he might discover, but he certainly hadn’t expected to find her crying over her sleeping son. As her boss, he was wary, suspicious. As the man who … cared for her, he was worried.

“Start talking,” he said, when she made no move to say anything. “I want it all, Charlie.”

She laughed shortly, broke the seal on her water bottle and took a long drink. When she had neatly screwed the cap back on, she lifted her gaze and looked out over the park. Two women pushing strollers laughed and chatted. A young man threw a Frisbee for a golden retriever and somewhere in the distance, a siren sounded.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” she admitted, crossing her legs demurely.

“Then start with this.” He waited until she looked at him. “Were you the one trying to access Waverly records this morning?”

Her pale blue eyes went wide in shock. “Oh, God.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he muttered darkly and took a drink of his own water. “Security told me that the IT department had found someone hacking into the records. I really hoped it wasn’t you.”

Dammit. He would have been willing to bet money that she was innocent. He didn’t like feeling as though he’d been played. Was she that good an actress? Could she really pretend to be an innocent and pull it off so completely? His gaze fixed on her, he tried to balance this new information with the woman he had come to know the past couple of weeks and couldn’t do it. Who was the real Charlie?

But even as he thought that, he remembered her alone in the dark with her son and the tears coursing down her face. She hadn’t known he was there. Hadn’t known she’d been caught. So the tears were real. Now all he had to do was find out what else was.

“I couldn’t do it,” she said after a long moment of silence. “I tried. Went to the records file, but I closed it again right away. I couldn’t steal from Waverly’s. From you.”

“Glad to hear it,” Vance said and meant it. His suspicions were dissolving. A real thief wouldn’t have changed her mind. She would have scoped out all the information she could glean and then disappear. But the frustration chewing at him was still fierce. He believed she hadn’t wanted to steal from him. But she’d come close.

“Now how about you tell me why you tried it in the first place?” He heard the tightly leashed anger in his voice and didn’t bother to disguise it. “What’s got you so jumpy? So worried that you were thinking about stealing, even though you didn’t want to?”

She started talking then and the words rushed over themselves as if they’d been banked up too long and couldn’t wait to get out into the light of day. Vance listened without interrupting, though it cost him to keep his growing fury trapped inside. His grip on the water bottle tightened to the point where he half expected to crush the plastic container and be doused in icy water. And maybe that would have been a good thing. It might have gone a ways toward cooling off the fire of the rage pumping through his body.

When she finally finished talking, Vance couldn’t sit still a second longer. He jumped to his feet, paced off a step or two, and turned back to look at her. The hot wind teased the ends of her hair and sent leaf-painted shadows dancing across her face.

She stared up at him. “You’re angry.”

“Good call,” he said tightly. He tossed his nearly full bottle of water into a nearby trash can with such force it was like the crash of a gong.

It didn’t help any. Frustrated and furious, he shoved both hands through his hair. “Dammit, Charlie.”

“I wasn’t going to do it,” she said firmly, and stood up, grabbing his arm to force him to look at her. “You have to know that. I wasn’t going to sell Waverly’s out. To anyone. I wouldn’t do that to the house. Or to you.”

He snorted in disgust. “You think that’s why I’m mad?”

“Isn’t it?”

Vance looked down at her misery-filled eyes, and got mad all over again. “God, you must think I’m a real bastard.”

“No, I don’t,” she argued.

“Then why didn’t you tell me you were in trouble?” His demand was short, sharp and to the point. He couldn’t believe this. Any of it. He’d been suspecting her of betrayal when all the time— “You’ve been threatened by some creep and you didn’t say anything? Why the hell not?”

The wounded expression on her face faded and was replaced by grim resolution. “Because it was my problem.”

“That’s not an answer, Charlie,” he said, voice thick with the fury nearly choking him. “You’ve been scared for two weeks and never said a damn word.”

“What was I supposed to say?” she argued. “If I had told you that I was being blackmailed, what could you have done? You’d have assumed that I was going to betray you.”

One short, sharp bark of laughter shot from his throat. “That’s great, thanks. Good to know the high opinion you have of me.”

Stunned, she tilted her head and looked at him. “You’re saying you would have believed me?”

“I believe you now,” he pointed out, irritated beyond belief that she thought so little of him. “The minute you finally told me what was going on, I believed you.”

“I had no way of knowing that. And besides, I didn’t need help. Or, I did,” she corrected, muttering now as her words came faster. “Okay, I did need help but I didn’t want to need help, you know? I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself and Jake and—God, I’ve made a mess of this.”

“Everybody needs help sometimes,” he told her, and realized that most of his anger was draining away. At least now he knew what was going on. Knew that she was being threatened and he could do something about it.

“You don’t,” she charged, and didn’t look happy about it.

“Wrong,” he said. “I need your help right now, to make sense of all this. You with me?”

She nodded and took another drink of water.

“So, someone you don’t know threatened you with losing your son unless you stole my files for the last five years?”

“Yes.” She huffed out a breath. Her pale blue eyes were red-rimmed from crying, but they were dry now. As if she had decided she’d spilled enough tears and now she was gathering her strength for whatever she might need. “I got the first email the day that article about Ms. Richardson was in the paper.”

“Probably not a coincidence,” he said wryly.

“That’s what I thought,” she agreed.

“The question is, why did this person think they could get Jake taken away from you?” He watched her. “I’ve seen you with him. Been at your apartment. You’re a good mother, providing a good home.”

“Thanks,” she said, a half smile curving one corner of her mouth briefly.

“There’s more going on here, Charlie. You haven’t told me everything.” The air was hot and still as the wind suddenly died away. The sounds of summer at the park were in the distance and in the lacy shade it felt as if they were alone in the world. “Tell me the rest, Charlie. Let me help.”

She tugged at the end of her long, blond ponytail, twisting the ends around her fingers in a nervous gesture. “I wish you could. Help, I mean. But you can’t help with this, Vance. Things are what they are. They can’t be changed.”

“Try me,” he said, steel in his tone. He’d never admit that there was something he couldn’t fix. Couldn’t set right. “You might be surprised at what I can manage.”

“Not even Vance Waverly can change the past.”

He stiffened at the words because he knew she was right—about that, at least. Vance was a take-charge guy. If something needed doing, he did it. In his world, things ran the way they were supposed to. Now. Of course, that wasn’t always the case.

If he could have changed the past, he’d have done it by now. He’d have saved his mother and sister from the car wreck that had killed them. He’d have somehow convinced his father to find Roark earlier so Vance could have known his brother before they were adults. Yeah, there was a hell of a lot he’d go back and change if he could. But if the past couldn’t be changed, then at least its impact on the present could be.

“If you don’t tell me, then for damn sure I can’t help,” he reasoned. “So what’ve you got to lose?”

“A lot,” she said so quietly he almost missed it. Then she looked at him again and he saw emotions crowding her eyes, so many he couldn’t separate them all. Whatever she was keeping locked away was tearing at her. And that ripped at him in turn.

“What’s this guy got on you, Charlie? What is it you’re so desperate to keep secret?”

She took a breath and blew it out. “Remember how I told you my grandmother raised me?”

“Yeah?” He led her back to the bench and sat down beside her.

“I didn’t tell you why.” She shook her head and a sad smile curved her mouth for a split second before disappearing again. “When I was five, my father robbed a grocery store.”

Vance hadn’t expected that. Her features were a mask of shame and humiliation, but he didn’t say anything because he was pretty sure there was more coming.

“He died in a chase with the police. Drove his car into a tree.”

“Charlie …”

“My mother left soon after that. I never saw her again.” She tore at the label on the water bottle, ripping one long strip off carefully, as if it were the most important thing in the world. “After that, my mother’s mom took me in and raised me.”

She lifted her gaze to stare out over the park again, deliberately keeping her gaze from his. “You know the old saying about ‘the wrong side of the tracks’? Well, that was us. Me. When Gran died, I left and came here and never told anyone where I was from.”

Vance felt for her. She’d had it tough and she’d come through to make something of her life. But none of this was enough to make for good blackmail.

“Come on, Charlie. There’s got to be more,” he said. “This isn’t blackmail material.”

She nearly choked on a swig of water. She half turned to fire a look at him. “Didn’t you hear me? My father was a thief. He died being chased by the police. My mother ran off and disappeared. Not exactly a picture-perfect background.”

“Not exactly your fault, either. You said you were five.”

“Easy for you to say,” she said, shaking her head and blinking back—thank God—a fresh sheen of tears. “You have no idea what it was like. Everyone in town gossiping about us. You couldn’t understand. How could you?”

“Thanks for the faith,” he muttered. “You’re not the only one people gossip about. Seen the newspapers? People are always talking about the Waverlys.”

“Yes, poor you,” she said, sarcasm dripping off every word. “How horrible to be followed to all your fancy dinners and be made to pose for pictures. Very intrusive.”

One eyebrow lifted. “Good to know you’ve got a temper. And a snide side, too.”

She frowned at him. “You’re only the second person I’ve ever told about myself. I would think you could understand how embarrassing this is for me.”

“I get that you’re embarrassed,” he said. “I just don’t get why. So you grew up poor. Who the hell cares?”

“You don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head more in temper than misery and Vance was glad to see it.

“Fine. I don’t understand. Now give me the rest of it.”

“Not much left,” she said primly, scooting away from him on the bench. “I put myself through college and when Gran died, I moved to New York.”

He moved in closer. “And Jake’s father?”

She pushed up from the bench and put a stranglehold on her water bottle. “Why not? Let’s just spill the last of the humiliation and get it over with.” She whirled around to face him and the look in her eyes had Vance standing to walk toward her.

But she held up one hand, palm out to keep him at bay. “Don’t be nice to me right now, okay? I’m hanging on by a thread here.”

“Okay, then finish it.”

“I met Jake’s father right after I was hired at Waverly’s.” She dropped her water bottle into the trash and crossed her arms over her chest. Scraping her hands up and down her forearms as if to ward off a bone-deep chill, she started talking again. “His name was Blaine Andersen—at least that’s what he told me.”

Vance didn’t say anything. He had a feeling he knew where this was going and nothing he could say would help the situation any.

“He was sweet and funny,” she mused. “We went for walks in the park and to movies. He brought me flowers. He even replaced my BlackBerry when I lost mine. He said he loved me and—”

“You loved him back.” Strange, but those words had a bitter taste to them.

“I thought I did,” she corrected. “When I found out I was pregnant, I went to tell him, but he was gone.” She shook her head as she remembered. “Familiar story, right? Small-town girl comes to the city and gets taken advantage of. God, I felt so stupid. I even went to the Andersen Architectural firm that he told me was his family’s. They’d never heard of him.”

“Charlie—”

“It’s okay,” she said quickly, interrupting him. “Doesn’t matter anymore. I got Jake out of it and he’s everything to me.”

Vance gave her a grin, as he thought about the tiny boy who had already wormed his way into Vance’s heart. One more complication that he hadn’t planned on. “He’s a great kid.”

“Yeah.” She smiled back and it was her first real smile since this started. Vance was glad to see it, even if it did look a little trembly around the edges. “He really is.”

“So is that it? All your deep, dark secrets?”

“Well, I didn’t tell you about my wild addiction to chocolate-dipped strawberries, but other than that, yes. That’s it.” She sighed and added, “Feels like fifty pounds have fallen off my shoulders.”

“Not surprising. Why’d you keep it to yourself, Charlie?” His voice was quiet. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

“I’m used to taking care of myself, Vance,” she told him with another deep sigh. “And I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, “I do.”

When she looked up at him, with hope shining in her eyes, he felt like a damn knight in shining armor, which he really wasn’t. Hell, half the people in Manhattan would be willing to swear that he was a villain, not a hero. But he certainly enjoyed seeing her look at him like that.

“So I’m not fired?” she asked.

“You will be if you ever hold out on me again.” He dropped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close. “Charlie, you don’t have to be alone in this.”

“I don’t know how to be anything else.”

“Then it’s time to learn,” he muttered. Drawing her up against him, he wrapped both arms around her and held on. She fit—that’s all he could think of. Fit as if she were made to slide in next to him. As if she were the missing piece to his puzzle.

He closed his eyes and shut down that particular thought. He already knew he wanted her more than anything. Now that he knew she’d been terrorized, he felt bad for her. That’s all this was, he told himself.

Need and sympathy. Nothing more. And he’d do well to remember that.

“I don’t like your being scared,” he said softly.

“Me, neither.” She tipped her head back to look up at him and he was relieved to see that her eyes were clear. No more tears, no more shadows. She looked, he thought, too damn good.

When she went up on her toes and tilted her head to one side, everything in him tightened. But as much as he wanted her, he had to say, “Charlie, you don’t owe me anything.”

“This isn’t about owing,” she told him, dropping her gaze to his mouth before looking into his eyes again. “This is about wanting.”

He skimmed his hands up her body until he was cupping her face between his palms. Smiling, he whispered, “Wanting is something completely different.”

“Show me.”

He did. His mouth came down on hers and his heart nearly slammed through his chest. The taste of her filled him, the need for her was raw heat pumping through his bloodstream and when she parted her lips for him, he took a deeper taste and lost himself in it.

It was her soft sigh that brought him up out of a kiss he wanted to linger over for days. But when he did his lingering, they’d be alone. In a bed. Not in the middle of a damn park.

Reluctantly, he broke off the kiss and lifted his head to look down at her. Her eyes were glassy and her mouth full and ripe. It took everything he had not to kiss her again.

“We’re going back to the office, Charlie, and you’re going to show me every email this guy’s sent you.”

“Okay.” Nodding, she pulled in a deep breath. “Then what?”

“Then,” he said with a fierce smile, “we fight back.”

Eight

“He kissed you,” Katie blurted out the moment Charlie walked into her friend’s office and sat down.

She probably shouldn’t have gone down to Accounting to see Katie, but Charlie hadn’t wanted to be alone at the moment, either. Practically the instant she and Vance had returned to Waverly’s, Ann Richardson had asked to see him.

He hadn’t been happy about it, but he’d had to leave before Charlie could show him the emails. Before they could decide what to do next. Still, he’d kissed her again, hard and fast, then promised they would straighten it all out when he returned. But she hadn’t been able to simply sit alone and stew, so she’d come to see her best friend. Who apparently was either psychic or had X-ray vision.

“Do you have radar or something?” she asked.

“Don’t need it,” Katie told her. “You’re all dazzle-eyed and your lips are puffy. That’s not even counting the fact that you’re practically glowing. So spill.” Katie grinned wickedly and rubbed her palms together in eager anticipation. “I want every detail. Spare nothing. He said hi, you said hi, he grabbed you up in his oh-so-manly arms and planted one on you and—”

“I kissed him,” Charlie said, cutting her friend off mid-sentence.

“Seriously?” Astonished, Katie stared at her openmouthed for a heartbeat or two. Then she slapped one hand to her chest and said in an overly dramatic voice, “I’m so proud. I think I’m having a moment here.”

“Very funny.”

“Well, come on,” Katie teased. “You haven’t been interested in anyone since …”

“I know.” Charlie winced. Katie knew the whole story of Jake’s father and how Charlie had been so completely conned by the first smooth-talking, good-looking guy she came across. Katie had been after Charlie for the past year to move on, find someone nice. Take a chance again. Now that Charlie finally had, Katie was ready to take a bow.

“Boy, when you step back into the dating pool, you go straight for the deep end, don’t you?”

“Seems that way. But, honestly, I don’t remember jumping in. One minute we were talking and the next—” Charlie could hardly believe it herself. Her body was still buzzing from the sensations aroused by that kiss. She could still feel Vance’s mouth on hers, the soft brush of his breath on her cheek, and the strength in his hands as he held her.

“I don’t even know what made me do it,” she confessed, then instantly said, “Oh, that’s not true. Of course I know. He’s been so nice. So un-alpha-top-dog the last couple of weeks.”

“I like alpha guys,” Katie argued.

“Oh, he’s still alpha,” Charlie assured her. The man just charged ahead, sure he could fix whatever was wrong. He didn’t take no for an answer and had supreme faith in his own abilities. Hard to argue with that kind of confidence.

She hadn’t told Katie about the blackmail threats or why she’d been so worried and distracted lately, so she didn’t bring up just how supportive Vance had been about that.

Katie sighed and cupped her chin in her hands. “And he kissed you back?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Then why is your happy-little-world glow slowly fading?” Straightening up, Katie folded her arms on her desk and frowned. “Honestly, Charlie, cut yourself a break, will you? You’re allowed to kiss a gorgeous guy and actually enjoy it.”

“Am I?” Charlie stood up and walked to the narrow window next to Katie’s desk. Not much of a view, but she could at least see the sky. “I’m a mom. It isn’t only me I have to worry about. If I make a mistake with a guy, it impacts Jake, too.”

Katie swiveled her desk chair around. “And Vance is a mistake?”

Her friend’s voice was quiet, but the question rang out loud and clear. The problem was, Charlie didn’t know the answer. If she went by how she was feeling, then, no, Vance was so not a mistake. But if she let reality into the hazy thoughts clouding her mind, then the answer was a big oh, yes. Walking into a relationship with Vance Waverly was just asking for future misery and pain.

He knew the truth about her now. Knew her background. Knew that she’d been foolish enough to be seduced by a man whose real name she didn’t even know. She’d confessed to being blackmailed and the auction house his family had founded was threatened.

They couldn’t be more different. Their worlds were so far apart they were in opposing galaxies.

“You’re going to talk yourself out of this, aren’t you?” Katie asked on a sigh.

Charlie looked over her shoulder at her friend. “Out of what? A kiss? Come on, Katie—me and Vance Waverly? That wouldn’t even make a good book. No one would believe it was possible, even as fiction.”

“You don’t read the right books,” Katie muttered, then stood up to join Charlie at the window. “You’re thinking too much. I get it. After Jake’s father, you were burned bad and I really understand why you’re being so cautious. But, Charlie, if you don’t open yourself to possibilities, you’ll never have anything in your life.”

“I’ve got Jake,” she argued stubbornly.

“You do.” Katie shook her head slowly. “But Jake’s going to grow up eventually. He’ll go out and get a life and you’ll be alone.”

Charlie choked out a laugh. “I think I’ve got a few years before I have to think about getting a cat to keep me company.”

“Okay, you’re right about that,” she admitted. “But my point is, if you don’t start living a little now, by the time you think you’re finally ready? It’ll be too late.”

Maybe she had a point. And maybe Charlie just wanted Katie to have a point. She was falling again. Just as fast and hard as she had for Jake’s father.

That relationship had turned out to be nothing more than smoke and mirrors. Could she really risk more pain? Then, remembering that kiss and how the warm summer breeze had wrapped itself around the two of them under the shade of that willow, she asked herself if she could really walk away.

Kendra Darling guarded Ann Richardson’s office like a well-dressed, charming dragon. Her hazel eyes were sharp behind tortoiseshell glasses and her shoulder-length, straight red hair was pulled back in a no-nonsense gold clip at the nape of her neck. She smiled as Vance approached. No one got past Kendra if they weren’t expected. Not even a senior board member.

“Mr. Waverly,” Kendra said with a brief nod, “Ms. Richardson is expecting you.”

“Thanks.” He walked past her desk, then paused for a quick look back. Kendra had been here for several years, he reminded himself. Who would know their secrets better? Then he discounted the notion entirely. After all, he’d suspected Charlie and there hadn’t been anything to it. And Kendra was loyal to the bone. For all he knew, the traitor—if there was one—could be one of the old guard. He took a moment to imagine George, Simon or one of the society ladies on the board sending threatening emails to Charlie. Or stealing information and passing it on to Dalton.

“Is there something else, Mr. Waverly?”

He met Kendra’s inquiring gaze and shook his head. “No, everything’s fine. Thanks.”

Vance dismissed his imaginings as wildly improbable. It was going to take time to find whoever was trying to sink Waverly’s. It wouldn’t be easy and it wouldn’t be pleasant. But he would uncover what was happening here.

Opening the door, he stepped inside.

Ann Richardson’s icy-cool exterior was nowhere to be seen. She was pacing her office in brisk strides, all the while staring down at a sheaf of papers she held in her hands. A smile curved her mouth and even from across the room, Vance could see the gleam of excitement glittering in her eyes when she looked up as he walked in.

“Vance! Good. Have you talked to Roark?”

“Two days ago, why?” She’d brought him here to talk about his brother?

“Then you don’t know. Even better. I want to see your reaction. See if it’s anything like mine.”

He didn’t have time for games. He needed to get back to Charlie. Look at the emails from her blackmailer. Kiss her again. Scowling at the wayward thought, he focused on Ann. Confusion settled down in him and he didn’t like it. “What’re you talking about, Ann?”

“This.” She walked to him and held out the papers. He took them and swiftly scanned the few lines of text before concentrating on the pictures.

“Is this what I think it is?” he asked, lifting his gaze to hers.

“If you’re thinking it’s the Rayas collection, including the Gold Heart statue,” she whispered almost reverently, “then yes. It is.”

“But it’s been missing for more than a hundred years,” Vance murmured, gaze dragging up and down the photo of the statue.

“Roark found it,” Ann told him, with barely restrained glee. “Honestly, your brother can be hard to deal with and even harder to keep track of, but he makes some truly miraculous finds for the house.”

Miraculous. Exactly what tracking down this piece of art was. Stunned, Vance stared down at the photo of the famed statue. Everyone who lived and worked in the fine art world knew the story of the lost statue from the Middle Eastern kingdom of Rayas.

One of only three in existence, each of the statues was a woman, two feet high, her heart etched and inlaid in gold. The pedestal the female figure stood on was an inch-thick block of pure gold and stamped with a unique seal. Legend said that centuries ago, the king of Rayas commissioned three Gold Heart statues, one for each of his daughters, to bring them luck in love.

The daughters were lucky, as were all the generations to follow—as long as the statues remained in their respective palaces. One of the three matching works belonged to the family of Sheikh Raif Khouri, another still graced the palace of the original family to inherit it. And about a century ago, the third statue went missing—presumed to have been either stolen—or sold by a member of the family. Either way, without the statue in the palace, that branch of the family met with heartache, disaster and eventually died out altogether. Which made a man put a little more faith in the strength of a legend.

But for this Gold Heart to suddenly turn up as part of the collection was damn irregular. Where had it come from? How had his brother found it? And why hadn’t he told Vance?

They’d spoken only two days ago, so he must have had a line on the statue then. Why wouldn’t he have mentioned it? Frowning now, Vance asked, “Roark sent these photos to you?”

“Just got them this morning by fax.” She grabbed the top paper back and skimmed over the full-color picture. “Gorgeous. Just gorgeous. And Waverly’s has it.”

This was huge. Vance stared down at the paper she’d left him with and examined photos of three of the other items that would be included in the auction. He felt a satisfied, proud smile crease his face. Roark had done it. He’d secured the most sought-after auction items in the world at a time when Waverly’s really needed the good press. It was a gift, he thought. A damn timely one.

“Where’s the statue itself?” he asked.

Ann looked up at him and blinked as if she had to refocus her mind. And who could blame her? Things had been tense and ugly here for a couple of weeks and this news could change everything. For Ann as well as for the house.

“He locked it in his overseas vault. It’s safe until he can bring it back home. But he’s authenticated it, Vance. There’s no mistake. This is the missing Gold Heart.”

He nodded.

“I want to announce this to the press,” Ann said. “But before I do, I wanted your take on it. We can’t afford any mistakes about this. Once the Gold Heart acquisition is announced, we’re putting Waverly’s reputation on the line.”

Vance knew what she was talking about. If it turned out that the statue was a copy or something even worse, it would shatter the house. They were already under siege and couldn’t afford any more bad press.

Looking at Ann, he said, “You know as well as I do that Roark knows his stuff. No one else on this planet has his kind of instincts—or his knowledge of antiquities. If he says it’s real, then it is.”

His brother had the unerring ability to locate treasures that others either overlooked or missed completely. Roark had an encyclopedic knowledge of the weird and the unique. He had managed to acquire collections for the house that no one else would have been able to procure.

She let out a relieved sigh. “That’s exactly how I felt about it. I just needed that feeling verified. God, Vance. Do you know what this will mean for Waverly’s?”

“I do. It’s an amazing find and right when we need it the most.”

Ann sent him a quick look. “It’s been rough, I know. But this will turn things around.”

“Undoubtedly,” he agreed. “But why the hell did Roark leave something this valuable overseas? Why not bring it home right away?”

Ann waved that question aside, but said simply, “He didn’t have time. After his stop in the Middle East, he was on his way to the Amazon, for some top secret meeting with another one of his contacts. If he’d taken the time to bring the Rayas treasures home, he might have lost out on the next acquisition.”

Vance still didn’t like it. The Gold Heart was legendary. Collectors all over the world had been looking for this missing statue for more than a century. Leaving it in a vault, no matter how safe, was taking a risk. “When will he be back?”

“I’m not sure,” Ann said, still smiling down at the photo she held in her hand. “He said he might run into some trouble with his latest quest.”

“Trouble? What kind of trouble?”

“He didn’t say.”

His brother didn’t say much, dammit. If he was expecting trouble, then Vance wanted to know about it. “Well, what the hell is he after in the Amazon?”

“He didn’t tell me that, either.” Lifting her gaze to his, Ann said, “Roark doesn’t exactly keep us in the loop when he’s on one of his trips. You know that yourself, Vance. And you just admitted that no one is better than Roark at what he does.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Doesn’t mean I like it.”

“Forget about everything else for a second, Vance. Don’t you see what this means for us? At auction, the Gold Heart could bring in as much as 200 million. Maybe more. And that’s not even taking into account the rest of the collection, which is pretty extraordinary.”

“I know, Ann.” Still, he had a bad feeling. Maybe it was the fact that he’d been steeped in a morass of suspicion for the past couple of weeks. But his internal alarms were ringing. Oh, not about the statue. As he’d told Ann, he had no doubts about its authenticity. If Roark gave his approval, that was good enough for Vance. But why now? Didn’t it seem just a little bit coincidental that the one thing that could pull Waverly’s out of this mess just happened to show up at the perfect time?

“It isn’t just the sale itself that will do a world of good for us. With all that’s going on right now,” Ann was saying, “this is just the big news we needed. The fact that Waverly’s acquired this statue to sell at auction is the kind of cachet you can’t buy.

“We’ll be above reproach and no rumors will be able to touch us. Any of us. This will push all speculation out of the paper. When word of this gets out, no one will be talking about anything beyond the fact that Waverly’s is the top auction house in the world. Let’s see Dalton try to pull something now.” She whispered that last part and Vance shot her a look.

Was there more to the rumors about Ann and Dalton than she was saying? She’d denied it all to the board, but that didn’t mean she was telling the truth. Of course she would lie to save her ass—the question was, would she sell out Waverly’s to do it?

He didn’t think so, but the woman was clearly on the raw edge of emotional meltdown. Her usually cool, dispassionate gaze was fired with an excitement he hadn’t seen in her before.

Maybe it wasn’t only Charlie dealing with threats from an unknown source. Maybe Ann was doing battle with a few demons of her own.

“That’s all of them?”

Charlie turned her head to look at Vance. He was crouched beside her office chair, studying the emails she’d pulled up on her computer screen. The heat of his body, so close to hers, went straight to her head and clouded all rational thought. It was a wonder she remembered to breathe.

He glanced at her and must have seen something in her expression because his brown eyes darkened and those gold flecks seemed to shine more brightly. “You keep looking at me that way and we’re not going to get anything done.”

“Sorry,” she said and unbelievably enough felt a blush burst onto her cheeks. At least, she assumed she was blushing. Her face felt hot and she was mortified. Idiot, she told herself firmly. He’s trying to help you. The least you could do is remain coherent. “Yes, that’s all the emails. Well, except for the one I got this morning.”

“You got another one?” His tone was as sharp as a knife. “Pull it up.”

She hadn’t wanted to show him this one, which was just stupid, since she’d told him everything else. But this email was darker. Scarier. Heck, she didn’t want to read it again herself. But she clicked on the message and when it popped open, her gaze went right to the bold-faced type.

No more stalling. Give me what I want or you lose the kid. I know where you live. I know your secrets. I’m through screwing around with you. Contact me by five p.m. tomorrow.

“Son of a bitch,” Vance muttered through gritted teeth. “Have you answered him?”

“Yes,” she said. “Right after the first threat came in, I tried to make him tell me who he was. Naturally, he wouldn’t. And when I got this note this morning, I sent him an email trying to stall for time. I didn’t hear back from him. But I don’t know what to do. I can’t steal from Waverly’s and if I tell him that, I might lose my son—”

“You won’t lose Jake.”

“I can’t risk it,” Charlie said and even the distraction of having Vance’s face so close to hers wasn’t enough to ease the panic inside her. “I have to do something.”

He nodded, his gaze fixed again on the email. “He knows where you live.”

“Yeah, I saw that.” She rubbed her hands up and down her forearms in an attempt to ease back the chill snaking through her. It didn’t help. It was creepy enough to get emails. To know that he could show up at her apartment was downright terrifying. “It’s scary to think he’s watching me.”

“Yeah, well, he’s done watching you.”

“I don’t know how I can stop him.”

“I do,” Vance said, his voice low and dark. “You and Jake are moving in with me for a while.”

Charlie just stared at him. Impossible, her mind was shouting. Woo-hoo, her body screamed. And somewhere in the middle Charlie tried to make sense of what he’d just said. But nothing came to her.

“I can’t let you do that.” She shook her head firmly, coming down on the side of reason instead of listening to her body’s urging.

“You’re not letting me do anything,” he told her. “Decision’s made.”

“Excuse me?” Her spine went as stiff as a poker and her chin lifted. Locking her gaze on his, she didn’t back down an inch from the steel she saw shining in his eyes. “I don’t take orders from you—” She caught herself and thought about that for a second, then amended, “Well, all right, I do, since you’re my boss, but you can’t order me to do this.”

An impatient sigh shot from his throat. “Charlie, do you want Jake to be safe?”

“Of course I do. What a ridiculous question.”

“Then you’re moving in with me, because this guy—” he stabbed one finger at the computer screen “—knows where you live. That means neither you nor Jake is safe.”

She didn’t want to be Vance Waverly’s good deed for the year. Didn’t want to be so pathetic that she needed a big, strong man to come riding to her rescue, for pity’s sake. Then she silently admitted that she also didn’t want to go home alone and worry about some nameless, faceless threat. She could stay with Katie, but her friend’s apartment was smaller than Charlie’s and she didn’t want to risk endangering Katie, either.

Should she do it? Should she risk moving in with her boss? Even to keep her son safe, was it the smart thing to do? She looked into Vance’s eyes and read the grim determination there. Mistake, she told herself. This was probably a huge mistake. But try as she might, she couldn’t think of a logical reason to say no.

Nine

Vance insisted that they take part of the afternoon off and move her and Jake into his condo. With the baby at Waverly’s day-care facility, Charlie got them both settled at Vance’s place.

Her first look at his home was enough to convince her that this was a bad idea. She could have plopped her entire apartment into just the living room of Vance’s penthouse and still have room left over. One entire length of the condo was a wall of tinted glass overlooking the Hudson River. Pleasure crafts and bright yellow kayaks, looking like fallen crayons, floated on the deep-blue water, and Charlie could only guess that the view of city lights at night would be stupendous.

The great room had been decorated by an expert so that it was starkly beautiful and about as kid-friendly as a set of steak knives. There were black leather chairs and couches gathered into a conversation area and another set of matching pieces in front of a now-empty hearth. Black lacquered tables stood on tile floors dotted with what looked like expensive rugs. Lamps that looked more like modern art than anything else were staggered around the room.

“See,” he said, spreading his arms wide, “plenty of room.”

“For me and an army,” she whispered as she followed Vance down a hallway that led to three bedrooms. She glanced in at the master suite as they passed, and her heart did a quick jolt when she saw his bed, huge and inviting, with a dark blue duvet and a mountain of pillows stacked against a black headboard.

“You really like black, don’t you?” she commented.

He looked down at her and shrugged. “It goes with everything. Or so the decorator told me.”

“Right,” she said, nodding. “Decorator.”

Just one more way that they were different. Even if she could have afforded a professional, Charlie never would have paid someone to furnish her home. The place that would be both haven and refuge. She would want to put her own stamp on this place. For example, she thought, in the great room, she would have had overstuffed furniture, less expensive but softer rugs and tables you could put your feet up on without having a bottle of Windex handy to wipe off the smudges. And she would have brought color into the place—blues, greens, even a sunshiny yellow. Anything to relieve the black and white and gray monochrome feel.

Oh, boy. Stop it, she told herself. This isn’t your home. You ‘re not staying. You ‘re a guest and probably a short-lived one, so just smile and be nice.

Vance opened the door to a guest room and Charlie was actually relieved to see pale blue walls, dark blue chairs drawn up in front of another fireplace and a bed done in pale blue and green. It was so different from the rest of the place, she could hardly believe it. “It’s lovely.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Well, it’s not what I was expecting.” She’d been thinking, of course, more black. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. The bathroom’s through here,” he said, showing her a palatial space with sky-blue tile, white sinks and tubs with what looked like teak wraparounds. The back half of the bathroom was a glassed-in shower space that looked big enough for—all kinds of things, she thought before she ruthlessly shut down that thought.

Like the rest of his home, the bathroom was stylish and elegant and intimidating.

“There’s a connecting room through the bathroom and it should work great for Jake. I can have a crib up here in an hour.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said, glancing around the third bedroom, another study in blues and greens. Apparently, his decorator had run out of ideas when it came to the guest rooms. “In fact, Vance, you don’t have to do any of this. Jake and I will be fine.”

“Yeah, you will,” he agreed. “Here.”

He laid both hands on her shoulders and she felt the heat of his hands sliding through her system. Seductive. That’s what he was. God, how had she ever believed he was cold and closed-off? In the past two weeks, he’d shown her more care and more attention than she could ever remember receiving from anyone.

Now, he’d even opened his home to her. Why? She had told him the truth about who she was. He had to know that whatever it was that sizzled between them when they were close couldn’t last. Wasn’t real. Wasn’t anything that should even have gotten started. So why hadn’t he turned his back on her?

He said he believed that she wasn’t trying to undermine Waverly’s. So was it something a lot simpler? Was he simply planning on using her for sex and then firing her later? No. She refused to believe that. Vance Waverly wasn’t that kind of man. He was being kind, and she wasn’t going to second-guess that. But oh, it probably hadn’t been a good idea to move in here, however temporarily.

“This guy knows where you live, Charlie,” Vance said as if he were reading her mind and knew that she was regretting the decision to come here. “What if he gets tired of email and wants to make a personal visit. Then what?”

She actually shivered at the thought. “I know, but I feel guilty. You’ve already been so nice, Vance….”

“Dammit, Charlie, you don’t have to go this alone.” He pulled her in to him until she had to tip her head back to look into his eyes. “I’m not being nice. I want you here where I know you and your son are safe. You can see I’ve got the room. What’s the problem?”

She reached up and laid her hands on his. “Vance, I appreciate it, I do. But you’ve never lived with a baby and I just don’t think you know what you’re getting into.”

“Let me worry about that, okay? Let me help.”

His features were tight, his eyes blazing as he looked down at her, practically willing her to agree. And though she knew she might one day come to regret this decision, Charlie knew she would be staying.

“Okay,” she said softly, admitting at least to herself that there was nowhere else she wanted to be.

“Good. Now,” he said, taking her hand, “drop your stuff. I’ll show you around.”

The tour of the rest of the condo had Charlie shaking her head in amazement. Vance’s house was lush and beautiful and she would never be comfortable there. Even the kitchen was set up more for a professional chef. It was like a model home. Meant to intrigue buyers and seduce them with clean lines and elegant furnishings.

But it wasn’t homey. It wasn’t comforting.

In fact, the only thing it had that appealed to her was Vance.

“I don’t want you to worry about bringing Jake out here to the garden,” he was saying now. “It’s perfectly safe for him.”

She stepped through the sliding-glass doors from the great room to a rooftop terrace oasis and gasped. They were at least thirty stories high and the views were incredible—as long as she didn’t look straight down. Potted plants and summer flowers burst from dozens of containers along the wall. A glass-topped table and chairs were set up at one side of the terrace and several lounge chairs, covered in white fabric, were gathered around one of those outdoor portable fire pits.

“No worries on the fire pit, either. It’s gas and it’s not as if Jake could turn it on.”

“Oh, I don’t think Jake needs to be out here,” she said, moving closer to the wall so she could take one very brief glance all the way down to the street below. Her head swam and she closed her eyes. “Yeah. He’ll be fine inside.”

Vance laughed. “Charlie, it’s perfectly safe.”

“It’s a long drop.”

“And we’re surrounded by a three-foot-high stone wall that is then topped by four feet of Plexiglas. There’s no way he could fall.”

Just the thought of that made her stomach sink. “I’m sure it’s safe, but we won’t be here that long anyway.”

Vance was at her side in an instant. He grabbed her upper arms and pulled her in close. Looking down into her eyes, he said, “Stop doing that. Stop talking about leaving.”

“I’m not,” she argued, even though a small voice in her head was urging her to do just that. Pull away before it was too late. Before her heart was even more engaged than it was already.

Before she did something so stupid as to fall in love with Vance Waverly.

“Yeah, you are.” He laughed shortly. “Mentally, you’ve got one foot out the door already and you’ve been in the house maybe ten minutes. So stop it, Charlie. You’re here now. With me. And I’m not letting you go.”

She should have argued with him. Should have told him that she came and went as she pleased. That he didn’t have the right to order her around or make demands or anything else outside of her job at Waverly’s.

But she didn’t say any of that. Instead, she gave in to what her heart and body were demanding she do. Charlie simply leaned into him and whispered, “Good.”

He grinned, fast and sharp, then bent his head to hers and, once more, Charlie was swept up in the rush of sensation that only Vance could cause. Every cell in her body sparkled into life. Every square inch of her skin buzzed in anticipation of more, and deep inside her, something opened, as if it had been waiting for just this moment. She was seriously afraid that it was her heart.

He pulled her closer still, hands running up and down her back, molding her body to his, caressing her until she moaned and pressed herself into him. Good. It felt so good to have him hold her, touch her. It felt … right.

Her fingers raked through his hair and skimmed across the back of his neck. He wasn’t wearing his suit coat, so she felt the strength of his shoulders beneath the soft fabric of his shirt. And she wanted to feel more.

The sun shone down on them. A breeze dove over the top of the Plexiglas wall and stirred the flowers until their scent was overwhelming, drowning Charlie’s senses as completely as Vance was taking over her body.

“I feel as if I’ve been waiting years for this,” he admitted.

Charlie knew just what he meant. His hands swept up and down her back, caressing, exploring. And every touch was fire. Magic. Her skin felt flushed and sensitive. As if she’d been waiting for his touch to come suddenly, almost painfully, alive.

He kissed her again, like a man starved for what she alone could give him. Their tongues met, tangled together in a frantic exchange of passion. Desperation, need, fueled every move, sighs lifted into the air and seconds ticked into minutes.

Charlie’s heart was pounding so hard she could hardly breathe and she didn’t care. All she cared about was the next touch, the next kiss, the next sweep of his tongue against hers.

Her mind splintered and all thoughts dissolved. Her body roared into life, hungering as it never had before. Her blood raced and desire was nearly strangling her. This was so much more than she’d expected. So much bigger than anything she’d ever felt before.

“You’ve been driving me crazy for days, Charlie,” Vance murmured when he tore his mouth from hers. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

She laughed, feeling a rush of pure, feminine power at his confession. Reaching up, she pulled at his dark red tie, loosening the knot, then slid it free of his collar. “How? What have I been doing?”

“Your hair,” he admitted, tearing off the clip she wore so her long hair spilled down around her shoulders and lifted in the wind. “I’ve been wanting to see your hair down since that first day I saw you. It was worth the wait.”

She shook her hair back from her face and looked into his eyes. “My hair’s been making you crazy?”

“And those shoes you wear,” he said, undoing the buttons of the simple white blouse she wore tucked into the waistband of a slim-fitting gray skirt.

Confused, she said, “My shoes?”

“God, yes,” he said, pausing to take a look down at the plain, black pumps. “What they do to your legs should be illegal.”

“Really?” she asked, ridiculously pleased.

“Really.” He shook his head and gave her a quick grin. “I’m thinking of having them bronzed.”

She laughed, delighted, and felt suddenly more carefree, more alive than she’d felt in years.

“Sure, you can laugh. I’m the one suffering, watching you walk across the office …” He shook his head again in memory, then he finished unbuttoning her shirt and pulled the tail of it free of her skirt. He swept the edges of the material back to expose the lacy bra covering her generous breasts.

He took a quick breath and exhaled just as fast. “You’re amazing.”

Her fingers worked at the buttons on his shirt, too, her skin heating not just from his compliment, but from the intensity of his gaze, as well. She felt it as she would a touch. He looked at her with such … hunger, such need, that she swore she could feel actual flames licking at her insides.

Charlie wanted to see him, too. Wanted to run her fingers over his skin and feel the warmth of his flesh beneath hers. He stood still under her touch and once his shirt was unbuttoned, she laid her palms flat on his broad chest and smoothed her fingers through the thatch of dark hair dusting his skin. He hissed in a breath and she knew he was as susceptible to her touch as she was to his.

“Can’t wait another minute, Charlie. We’ve already waited long enough. I’ve got to have you.”

“Yes, Vance. Oh, yes,” she said. This, she told herself, had been inevitable. From the first moment she had walked into his office as his new assistant. They had always been headed directly to this moment.

She felt beautiful and desired and so ready.

Charlie lifted her hands to the front clasp of her bra—then stopped and looked around. Broad daylight. Outside. Okay, maybe no one could see them but for passing planes and the occasional bird, but … “Maybe inside would be better.”

“What?” He looked around much as she had. “Oh. Yeah.” He choked out a laugh. “I actually forgot where we were. What do you do to me, woman? I’m always on top of things. Never lose focus. But with you—” He huffed out an exasperated breath and reached for her. Bending, he hooked one arm behind her knees and the other around her back and lifted her right off her feet.

“Vance!” She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on. Laughing up into his eyes, she said, “I can walk, you know.”

“Yeah,” he said with a shrug, “but this way, I get to keep my hands on you.”

“Can’t argue with that,” she said as he headed back inside.

His legs were long and his pace was brisk. He carried her through the penthouse into the master bedroom so quickly, it was only seconds before Charlie dropped onto his bed and lay there, looking up at him.

Nerves jangled inside her, but she quieted them. If this was a mistake, then she was going into it with her eyes wide open. Even if she regretted being with Vance one day, in this moment, she was reveling in it.

Shaking his head slowly, he let his gaze wander over her thoroughly. “I can’t tell you how many nights I imagined you lying here just like this.”

Charlie smiled. She liked knowing that she’d been in his thoughts as much as he had been in hers. “In your dreams I was fully clothed?”

One corner of his mouth tipped up briefly, but it wasn’t humor shining in his eyes, it was hunger. For her.

“Nope,” he said. “All you were wearing were those shoes and a satisfied smile.”

A curl of something wickedly exciting started in the pit of Charlie’s stomach and spread like a wildfire, rushing through her veins, making her skin feel tight and hot. She’d never felt anything like this before and she was suddenly eager to feel so much more.

Keeping her eyes on his, she wiggled out of her skirt and kicked it off. His eyes flashed as she sat up to take off her shirt and toss it to the floor, too. Then she was wearing only her white lace bra, matching panties and the shoes he seemed to have such a fondness for.

“Well, don’t stop now,” he said, voice sounding strangled.

Muted sunlight slanted in through the glass wall behind him, throwing his features into shadow as he stood so still, watching her. But even in the dim light, his eyes blazed with such ferocity, it took her breath away.

With him watching her like a starving man eyeing a feast, Charlie slowly unhooked her bra, then slid it off her shoulders, baring her breasts to him. As the cool air in the room kissed her heated skin, she felt ripples of gooseflesh course over her body. But it wasn’t just the air. It was Vance’s gaze that gave her chills. She was both embarrassed by her nudity—hello, she had had a baby and wasn’t quite as toned as she used to be—and excited, an interesting combination that had her heart throttling into high gear and turning every breath into a hard-won battle.

She lay exposed to his gaze but for the panties she still wore. But when she hooked her fingers under the elastic band, he stopped her.

“No, don’t,” he said, his voice still that low thrum of need and hunger that filled her with so many different sensations she couldn’t even sort them all out. “Let me.”

While she watched breathlessly, he tore off his clothes. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Even in the backlight of the sun, he was amazing. His chest was broad and muscled, his legs were long and lean and his—She swallowed hard and lifted her gaze to his.

“No more waiting, Charlie,” he murmured and she nodded, lifting her arms up to him.

Like him, she was done waiting. She wanted to feel. Wanted to be held and touched. By Vance.

He joined her on the bed and his heated skin was a counterpoint to the cool silk of the duvet sliding against her. Cupping her breasts in his palms, his thumbs and forefingers tweaked her rigid, so-sensitive nipples, until a moan ripped from her throat.

Then his hands shifted, moving over her body with an expert’s touch. As if he were playing her, he coaxed a symphony of sighs and groans from her. He explored every curve, every valley; he slid one hand down the length of her, across her abdomen, down to the narrow elastic band riding low on her hips.

Charlie sucked in a gulp of air. “Vance …”

Dipping his hand beneath that tiny swatch of lace covering the juncture of her thighs, he cupped her heat in his palm, making her twist and writhe beneath him as she ached for more.

“Please,” she whispered and didn’t care that she sounded desperate. She was desperate. For his touch. For the orgasm she felt couched inside, ready to crash down on her body and splinter her into shards of trembling release. “Vance, please …”

He turned his head and looked down into her eyes. Smiling now, he whispered, “Not yet, Charlie. I’m gonna make you want me as badly as I want you.”

“I do,” she swore, rocking her hips into his hand as he held her. The heat of his palm pressed to her core was agonizing, thrilling. And not nearly enough.

“Not yet,” he whispered, “but soon.”

Then he dipped his head to take one pebbled nipple into his mouth. His lips and tongue tortured her with exquisite care. He lavished attention on first one nipple, then the other, until he had her twisting wildly beneath him while holding his head to her, making her half afraid he would stop.

He suckled her, drawing deep at her breasts, and Charlie whimpered with the sexual need that grew and grew until it was all-encompassing. Vance’s mouth on her breasts. Vance’s hand at her core. Vance’s breath dusting her skin.

A sensual haze dropped over her vision, blurring him, the room, even the slant of sunlight that now looked like a simple wash of gold across everything. She didn’t need to see, she told herself. All she needed was him. All she cared about now was the next touch. The next stroke. The next pull at her breasts.

“Time to lose these,” Vance murmured as he lifted his head to claim a quick, hard kiss. Then he flicked his wrist and the elastic band on her panties snapped.

“Good,” Charlie said, swallowing past the knot in her throat. She parted her thighs for him and he caressed her heat, drawing a sigh from her as she whispered, “That’s good.”

“About to get better,” he promised.

Sliding first one finger then two into her depths, he stroked her, inside and out, until she was trembling, quivering, from head to toe. She clutched at him—arms, shoulders, back. She dragged her nails down his skin, loving the feel of him beneath her hands. His thumb moved over the most sensitive spot at her center and Charlie jolted at the lightninglike sensations that shot through her.

Wild now, hungry beyond the telling of it, she rocked her hips like crazy, trying to take him deeper, higher, and she groaned because it still wasn’t enough. She needed to feel his thick, hard body pushing within. Charlie felt her climax building and coiling inside her and she yearned for it, ached for it.

“More, more,” she whispered, voice broken on a gasp.

“Want it, Charlie. Want it more than your next breath,” he said softly, lifting his head to watch her face.

Her gaze caught with his, she managed to choke out, “I do. Want it. Want you. Always have.” She shook her head from side to side on the cool silk and licked her lips as he pushed her closer, higher, faster. “Always wanted you. Now have to have you. No more waiting, Vance.” Her gaze pinned his. “Now.”

“Now.” He lifted his hand from her core and she nearly wept with the loss of him.

But in seconds, he shifted on the bed, tore off what was left of her panties and tossed the ruined scrap of lace over his shoulder. He ran his palms up and down the length of her legs and smiled when he glanced at the high heels she still wore.

Charlie managed a short laugh in spite of what she was feeling. “Your fantasy?”

“Not until you’re wearing that satisfied smile.”

She wiggled her hips and parted her thighs even farther. “I’m ready when you are,” she said.

“Almost.” He reached for the bedside table, yanked open the drawer and grabbed a condom.

“I didn’t think. I—” Charlie was grateful. She’d been so caught up in the sensual delights, she hadn’t given a single thought to protection.

“Only one of us had to,” he told her as he tore open the foil square, then sheathed himself.

He knelt between her thighs, scooped his hands under her behind and lifted her slightly off the mattress. She looked up into his eyes and saw a need that matched her own. She had never known anything like this before. Hadn’t realized that sex could be so … much. Always before, it had been … nice. Pleasant. But there was nothing “pleasant” about sex with Vance. This was raw, powerful, all-consuming need. If she didn’t feel him inside her soon, Charlie knew she would lose what was left of her mind.

And as that last coherent thought twisted through her brain, Vance pushed himself inside her in one hard stroke.

He was big and thick and oh, so good. Charlie gasped, then groaned his name as she lifted her hips into him, taking him even deeper until he filled her so completely, so totally, she couldn’t imagine ever being without him inside her again. It was as if she had been waiting her whole life for this moment. For this man. She felt it. Knew it deep in her soul.

He moved in her and her body tightened around his, her inner muscles clenching and releasing as he led her into a dance as old as time. Her back arched, her hips rocked furiously as she rode the crashing wave of pleasure he induced.

He set the rhythm and she matched it. He touched her, she stroked her hands up and down his chest, his abdomen. He lifted her legs and set them on his shoulders, allowing him to go deeper, higher within her.

Charlie gasped at each invasion and nearly wept at each retreat. Passion exploded between them and as her climax peaked, sending her shrieking into a world filled with light and color, she heard him shout her name just before she felt him follow.

And as their bodies reached completion, they clung to each other like shipwreck survivors huddled on the shore.

Moments later, Vance whispered, “It’s those shoes, Charlie. Never get rid of those shoes.”

And she laughed, delighted.

Ten

In the kitchen twenty minutes later, Vance rustled up some cold Chardonnay, crackers and some cheese. As he took down two wineglasses, he paused for a moment and thought about the woman waiting for him in his bedroom.

Slapping both hands to the granite counter, he let himself remember the incredible feeling of being deep inside Charlie’s body and how he’d had the momentary thought that he’d like to stay that way forever. Almost instantly, he’d instinctively pulled back from that word.

He didn’t do forever. What he did was weeks. Maybe months, tops. Forever was for people too dumb to know that lust wasn’t love. Desire wasn’t lasting and passion cooled off just as fast as it burned.

Reluctantly, he scraped both hands across his face, then pushed them through his hair. He glanced across the room at the view through his windows and told himself to get a grip. What he had with Charlie was damn good, but that’s all it was.

All this self-exploration only went to prove that he’d waited too long between women. It had been more than three months since he’d stopped seeing Sharon—Karen—something.

Scowling now, he realized he not only couldn’t remember her name, he couldn’t remember anything else about her, either. While Charlie, on the other hand, was indelibly etched into his mind. If he never saw her again, he’d still recall everything about her. Never see her again. Okay, he didn’t like that thought, either. But that was only natural, he assured himself. At the beginning of an affair, which this most certainly was going to be, everything was brighter, hotter, better than anything that had come before.

Wasn’t it?

A silent voice inside him argued that Charlie was different from any woman he’d been with. What he’d just shared with her had shaken him right down to his bones and he didn’t even want to try to figure out what that might mean.

Instead, he grabbed the tray of snacks and the glasses in one hand and the bottle of wine with the other and headed back to the bedroom. Just outside the doorway, he muttered, “Keep it simple, stupid.”

Charlie was sitting up in the bed, waiting for him, and everything in Vance stilled for a long second or two. The woman was stunning and just looking at her made him want her all over again. Scowling, he told himself it meant nothing. But a voice in the back of his mind whispered something else entirely.

“Are you arguing with yourself?”

He blinked, looked at her and asked, “What?”

“You had this look on your face, like you were having a silent battle.”

“Well, I’m not,” he lied, disconcerted to discover he was so easy for her to read. Hell, his opponents in business had long told him that he had the best poker face in the world. That nothing he didn’t want to reveal showed up on his expression. But Charlie took one look at him and knew what he was thinking.

Yeah. Disconcerting.

He walked naked across the room, set the tray of crackers and cheese on the bedside table, then poured each of them a glass of wine. Just like in his fantasies, her long, blond hair was spread across the dark blue duvet like spun gold and he couldn’t resist touching it. It was smooth and soft and smelled, he thought, of peaches. The woman was edible, head to toe.

She took a sip of her wine and said, “That’s good, thank you.”

He gulped at his own wine, hoping to ease the knot of need that was now lodged in his throat. Everything about her called to him. The way she licked a drop of wine from her lips. The way she shook her hair back over her shoulder. The way she reached one hand out to cup his cheek, sending lines of heat shooting through his body.

“I’m suddenly not very thirsty,” he admitted. “You?”

“Not very,” she agreed, handing him her glass so he could set both of them down on the table beside the bed.

Her fingers caressed his cheek and he caught her hand in his. “Think you can read my thoughts?” he asked quietly. “What am I thinking now?”

“If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking,” she murmured, “I’m thinking it, too.”

“Good to know,” he said and dropped his head to claim a kiss. The first taste of her exploded in his mouth and rocketed through him. Just like the first time he had kissed her, in the shade of a willow tree, he felt that pitch and roll in his stomach and a weird sort of ache in his chest. But he didn’t want to consider what any of it might mean.

For now, all he wanted, needed, was Charlie. The feel of her, the hot silk of her body surrounding him when he entered her. Everything else in the damn world could just wait its turn.

He loved the feel of her soft hands sliding over his skin, the heat of her touch, kindling the fire inside him into something wild and uncontrollable. He caressed her, she responded, she ran her fingernails along his back and he shivered.

This woman got to him on levels he hadn’t even known he possessed. She invaded his body, his soul, his mind and, he suspected, his heart. And that was something that no one had ever managed to do.

He shook his head, deliberately dismissing his own thoughts. He wanted nothing interfering with this moment. He was hard and tight and ready for her again and couldn’t wait to get back inside her. Where he belonged, a voice inside whispered. Where he most wanted to be. He grabbed another condom and sheathed himself quickly.

Shifting, he sat up, and dragged her with him. She came willingly and when his back was braced against the headboard, he lifted her up to straddle him.

She whipped her long hair back from her face, but it slid forward again, lying in blond ribbons across her full, truly amazing breasts. Her nipples peeked through the golden strands like hidden treasures waiting to be discovered.

With her hands on his shoulders, she went up on her knees, and slowly took him inside, inch by glorious inch. His hands at her hips, he guided her down as his eyes locked with hers. He saw the flash of wonder, of want burning in those pale blue depths, and lost himself there. In the heat they built together. In the need that had them both by the throat.

Why was that need even more desperate now? Shouldn’t it have been assuaged by their first joining? Shouldn’t he be feeling satisfied instead of hungrier for her than ever?

“You’re killing me,” he muttered when she was fully seated on him and his body was locked within hers.

“I was thinking the same thing about you,” she admitted and ground her hips against him, dragging a groan from each of them.

“I wanted to take this time slow,” Vance told her after a long minute when he fought for control. “But I don’t think so.”

“Who needs slow?” she asked, then let out a “Whoop!” when he moved fast and tossed her onto her back, keeping his body joined with hers.

“There’s lots of time for slow,” he told her, voice low and scratchy. “Later.”

“Right. Later.” She lifted her legs, hooked them around his hips and pulled him in deeper, higher. “Right now, I just need. Need …”

“Me, too.” He buried his face in the curve of her neck, shut down his racing mind and gave himself up to instinct. The raw, pure hunger roaring through him demanding to be sated.

His hips moved like pistons. He took her fast, hard and completely. He heard her sighs and they fed his desire. He felt her body shiver as her climax jolted through her. She screamed his name as her body trembled and, moments later, he shouted victoriously as his body exploded into the heat of her, leaving him locked in her arms—and he didn’t let her go.

“Weird afternoon,” Charlie whispered to herself an hour later as she sat at her desk, going over Vance’s mail.

She’d been in his bed. Held his body in hers. And now they were back at Waverly’s as if nothing had happened.

But it had, she reminded herself with an inner smile. She just didn’t know what that meant for either of them.

One corner of her mind asked if it really had to mean something. Wasn’t it enough for now to simply enjoy what she had while she had it? And though that was good advice, she would never be able to follow it. Charlie never had been the girl to accept “for now.”

She’d always been more the home-and-hearth type rather than the use-’em-and-lose-’em kind of girl. So where did that leave her, exactly?

Living with her boss. Sleeping with him.

And worrying about what happened next.

For whatever reason, Vance was being kind and very protective of her and her son, and Charlie was grateful. But she knew that soon enough, he was bound to move on to one of the empty-headed beauties he usually dated. And that was just depressing.

Her desk phone buzzed and she picked up. “Yes?”

Vance’s voice came across loud and clear, “Come in here, Charlie. I’ve got an idea.”

She walked into his office and paused for a second to enjoy the view. He sat behind his desk like a king. Power emanated from him and when he smiled, everything inside her drew up into tight knots.

Oh, God. It had happened. She’d gone and done it.

She was in love with Vance Waverly.

And doomed to misery because he would never return that feeling. How could he? He knew the whole sordid truth about her now. Where she was from, what kind of family she had had. They were night and day, light and dark, power and powerlessness.

Heart aching, she forced a smile onto her face and prayed he couldn’t see what it was costing her. If all she had left was her pride, then she was going to cling to it.

“What kind of idea?” she asked, taking one of the chairs in front of his desk.

He leaned back in his chair and looked at her. “I want you to email that bastard who’s been hounding you and tell him you want to meet.”

“What?” Fear closed her throat as she stared at him. “Why?”

“Because I want to find out who he is. That way we’ll know who’s behind all this.” He stood up, came around the desk and took the chair next to hers.

Charlie stared into his eyes and saw the gleam of anticipation there. “I don’t know.”

“I do. You can do this, Charlie.” He reached over and picked up her hands from her lap. Holding them in his, he met her gaze and reminded her, “We already figured out this isn’t a coincidence. Your first threatening note arriving the same day as the article on Ann and Dalton showing up in the paper? No way. Whoever’s behind the threats to you has to be involved in whatever’s being planned for Waverly’s.”

“But, Vance …”

“I’ll be there. Well,” he hedged, “not with you, but close by. I swear I’ll never you out of my sight. You’ll be safe, Charlie, but I think this is our best chance of stopping this guy.”

She didn’t like any of it. The thought of meeting someone who had been threatening her was terrifying, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Charlie understood why Vance wanted to do this, but her son was at risk. “What if he sees you? What if he makes good on his threats and tries to take Jake from me?” Shaking her head, she tried to pull her hands free of his, but he held on even tighter.

“That won’t happen.”

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“No,” he agreed.

Charlie bit her lip. “Why can’t we just call the police?”

“Because the press would be alerted. I’m sorry, Charlie. Waverly’s can’t risk that.”

“No, of course not. I don’t want this in the papers, either,” she said with a shudder.

“But I can arrange for a member of Waverly’s security staff to be in the area. I’ll be there, too. You won’t be in any danger, Charlie. And I promise you that you won’t lose Jake. If it came to it, I’d hire the best attorney in the city to fight for you. You won’t lose your son, Charlie. You just have to trust me. Can you do that?”

Everything in her wanted to hide in a dark hole and pull the hole in after her. She thought of Jake, safe in the playroom downstairs, and her heart shivered at the thought of losing that little boy. But if she didn’t do this, if she didn’t find the courage to try to stop the threats, then she’d always be hiding. Always be afraid. And she didn’t want to live like that.

“Okay,” she said, before she could change her mind. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

He let go of her hands, reached for her and cupped the back of her head. Pulling her in close, he kissed her, hard and fast, sending jolts of white-hot sensation shooting through the chill in her blood. “Atta girl. It’ll work. You’ll see. Now, he wanted you to contact him by five tomorrow, right?”

“Yes.” There was that tight ball of dread in the pit of her stomach again. Was it wrong that she was starting to get used to it?

“Then we’ll wait until 4:45. You’ll email him telling him you want to meet.” Vance squeezed her hands again when she chewed at her bottom lip. “You’ll say that you’re not going to give him anything until you’ve talked in person.”

“What if he refuses?” She was pretty sure her mystery blackmailer was going to do just that.

“He won’t. He can’t afford to. If you call his bluff, he’ll have to bend,” Vance assured her. “You’re his only access to Waverly’s files as far as we know. So he’s going to have to do it your way or get nothing.”

“Maybe.”

“Charlie,” Vance insisted, his gaze locked with hers, “the only reason his threats have worked at all is because he knows he scared you. Now you’re not scared anymore.”

“I’m not?”

“Why would you be?” he countered. “You’ve got me now.”

Did she? She looked into his eyes and wondered if she did have him, how long would that last? Until this threat was over? Until Waverly’s was secure?

Until he got tired of her in bed?

“I hope you’re right,” she said, still unconvinced.

“I’m always right, remember?” He gave her a wide smile and her heartbeat fluttered in response.

Oh, God, she was an idiot. A first-class idiot. How could she have fallen in love? Hadn’t she sworn off the elusive feeling when Jake’s father disappeared? Hadn’t she told herself never to trust another man? Never to risk the kind of pain she’d felt when she’d first discovered she’d been had?

But this was different, she told herself. Vance was real. He hadn’t lied to her. Hadn’t tried to seduce her purposely for his own reasons. Falling in love was her mistake and she would pay for it, no doubt. Because what she felt for Vance was as real as he was.

And now she knew that what she had thought was love before, hadn’t been. What she had experienced with Jake’s father wasn’t even a shadow of what she felt now. This was real love. This was what she had dreamed of all her life.

And losing it was going to kill her.

Maybe it was the sex.

Maybe it was having Charlie in his house. Vance couldn’t be sure, but whatever the reason, his legendary impatience had roared to the surface. He didn’t like the idea of a threat hanging over Charlie’s head. He didn’t like her being scared, and he’d be damned if he was going to stand for it. That’s when he’d come up with his brilliant plan to face the blackmailer down.

He knew it was the right thing to do. He also knew that Charlie was worried about it.

She was on edge. One glance at her moving around his kitchen told him that. Vance already knew her well enough to notice the tightness in her shoulders, the deliberate squaring of her jaw. As if she were willing herself to hold it together.

He admired strength, and Charlie had plenty of it. She’d had a bad situation growing up, but she’d fought through that, too, and built a life for herself. She loved her son and her determination to protect him touched something in Vance. In fact, he was spending way too much time thinking warm thoughts about Charlie Potter.

Looking across the great room to the galley-style kitchen, he watched as Charlie made dinner. Chicken parmesan, she had said, and he had to admit, it smelled great. Usually, he ordered something from a nearby restaurant or nuked something frozen.

It was … odd, having her and Jake in the house, but it also wasn’t making him nuts. And that worried him.

He’d never brought a woman here before.

His home was his place. He didn’t share. When he was with a woman, they went to her place or an upscale hotel. This condo overlooking the river had been inviolate.

Until Charlie.

Hell, he mused, there was a lot going on lately that he could say “until Charlie” about. Going to a diner, taking walks with a baby, leaving work early, having wild, crazy-making sex in the middle of the day. All that was under the heading “until Charlie.”

“Babababa!”

Vance’s thoughts stopped when the baby pounded little fists against his leg to get his attention.

“What’s a ‘ba’?” he asked, throwing a glance at the woman across the room from him.

“Ball,” Charlie answered, then added, “I brought his favorite. It’s in his room.”

“Babababa!”

The baby’s eyes were wide and his bottom lip was trembling. A couple of weeks ago, Vance would have hit the front door running. He couldn’t imagine why. Now, he scooped up the baby, then carried him down the hall to his temporary room.

The crib had arrived and was already standing ready for the baby to sleep in. The dresser was filled with baby clothes and a box of diapers stood on a low table.

“Babababa!” Jake laid his head down on Vance’s shoulder and patted one small hand against his chest.

“Almost got it, little man,” Vance told him, giving him a pat on the back in reassurance. He found the bright red ball on the closet floor. Setting the baby down, he rolled him the ball and Vance smiled when the baby chortled with glee. Lifting the rubber ball, he swung his left arm wide and flung it back at Vance.

“What a throw!” Vance said with a grin. “And a southpaw. You’re going to be in demand on a Little League team, kid. A left-handed pitcher can name his own terms.”

“Bababa!”

Still smiling, Vance rolled him the ball and Jake tossed it again, happy with the game. Vance looked into those dark blue eyes and felt something clutch at his heart. This baby had gotten to him as easily as the boy’s mother had. Between the two of them, Vance didn’t know up from down. All he knew for sure was that, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t looking for the nearest exit.

In fact, weirdly enough, he was enjoying this. The baby. Charlie. The sounds of life and laughter in his normally quiet home.

He frowned and told himself he should probably be worried.

Vance didn’t have to hear Charlie’s approach. He actually felt her watching him. He turned his gaze to the open doorway where she stood, one shoulder leaning against the doorjamb. Her hair was in one long, thick braid hanging over her right shoulder. She was barefoot and her scarlet-painted toes peeked out from beneath the hem of faded jeans that hugged her legs like a familiar lover. Over the jeans, she wore a T-shirt that read Skip the Movie, Read a Book.

“Did I tell you I like your shirt?” He especially liked the way the clingy red fabric outlined her breasts.

She looked down and laughed shortly. “Thanks.”

Then he realized her eyes looked shadowed. “Is there a problem?”

“I got an email.”

Everything in him went on red alert. The baby tossed his ball and it rolled right past Vance unheeded. “What’d he say?”

“You were right,” Charlie reluctantly told him. “He’s agreed to meet with me.”

“Excellent. Did you tell him where?”

“Yes. He’ll be at the Coffee Spot tomorrow at four.”

Nodding, Vance said, “It’s almost over, Charlie.”

“Is it?”

Jake crawled up onto Vance’s lap and he automatically wrapped one arm around the tiny boy’s middle. Holding on to the sturdy weight of her son on his lap, Vance looked into Charlie’s eyes and thought about what he’d just said. Almost over. When they had this wrapped up and the blackmailer stopped, Charlie would be leaving. She and Jake would go back to their lives and he would be here, in the quiet.

That’s when it occurred to Vance that things might just be sliding out of his control.

Eleven

“So you decided to take my advice and seduce it out of her?”

That sounded a lot colder when Roark said it aloud than it had in Vance’s mind. But yeah, the upshot was, that’s exactly what he’d set out to do. It had all started so simply. A dinner date. Then walks and talks and before he had known it, he had been as seduced as she was.

Sex had been the next logical step.

Seduction might have been the plan at the beginning, but it had morphed into something else. Something that felt a hell of a lot more permanent than he had ever considered.

Scraping one hand across his face in irritation, Vance frowned at the phone in his hand, and muttered, “Yeah, all right? I did.”

“And you sound really pleased about that,” his brother shot back with a laugh.

“It’s … complicated.”

“Uh-oh. Sounds bad.”

“Could be,” Vance admitted, hating the fact that he didn’t know where this thing with Charlie was going. Ordinarily, he’d say enjoy it then move on. Just like always. But he didn’t want to move on. Plus, the thought of Charlie moving on to some other guy made him want to hit something. Breakable.

“Okay, leaving that aside for now, what’ve you found out?” Roark asked.

His brother’s voice rose and fell like applause at a bad play. The connection was terrible.

“Where the hell are you that your satellite phone is having a bad day?”

Roark snorted a laugh that came through loud and clear. “In the middle of the jungle.”

“Still in the Amazon?” Vance stood up and looked out his office window at the Manhattan view. Summer was making the streets practically steam, but he had a feeling the heat and humidity were much worse where Roark was.

“Yeah, almost done, though, so should be able to jet back soon. But we were talking about your assistant, remember?”

Like he could forget.

He had expected that sex with Charlie, finally satisfying that staggering need he’d felt for her, would take the edge off. Would, in a way, be liberating. Allow him to take a step back and look at the situation through clear eyes. Instead, sex with Charlie had just pulled him in deeper. Made him think dangerous thoughts. Made him want—

“So, she’s not the spy?”

“No.” Grateful to have his mind pushed off its traitorous track, he shook his head and studied the street scene below. Office workers striding up and down the sidewalk with purposeful steps. A kid on a skateboard was holding on to his dog’s leash for a fast ride and Vance smiled as a woman in heels had to jump out of the kid’s way.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” In a few short sentences, Vance brought his brother up-to-date on the whole blackmail situation—and his plans to end it.

“Well, damn, that’s intriguing. Who the hell is this guy?”

“That’s what I’m going to find out this afternoon.”

“How? The street around the coffee shop will be jammed at four in the afternoon. If this guy sees you with Charlie, he won’t make contact.”

“I’ve got that figured out, too,” Vance said, turning his back on the world to sit at his desk again. He filled Roark in on the plan.

“Sounds good. Lemme know how it goes.”

“I will,” Vance said, then finally brought up the real reason he had called his brother. “About the Gold Heart statue …”

“What about it?”

“How’d you find it? Where’s it been all these years? Ann’s letting the world know about it and people are really talking. This auction’s going to be the biggest thing we’ve ever handled.”

“I can’t get into it right now, Vance,” Roark said, his voice fading. “Just trust me, it’s all good.”

“Wait a minute!” Vance called into the phone and heard nothing in reply. Either his brother had just hung up on him, or the connection had abruptly died.

He did trust Roark. But Waverly’s had a lot riding on the upcoming auction of the Rayas collection. They couldn’t afford for anything to go wrong.

Anything could go wrong. Vance wore black jeans, a black T-shirt and boots. Nothing against any of his suits, but if he had to sprint to Charlie’s side he wanted to be able to move fast and sure.

As it was, he didn’t like any of this. Yeah, it had been his idea, but now that it was happening, he really hated the thought of Charlie being out there on her own.

He stood half-hidden behind the edge of a building on Fifth Avenue. A shoe store, he thought, but didn’t really care. What he cared about was that he had a direct line of sight to Charlie, standing in front of the Coffee Spot. It was a popular enough coffee shop that the crowds were moving in and out constantly. Hard to keep an eye on her, but it would also be hard for the blackmailer to try anything dangerous. She was safe, surrounded by hundreds of strangers.

The summer sun was brutal in late afternoon, blasting down out of a clear blue sky. Traffic was piled up as always, and hordes of pedestrians leaped off the curbs and crossed the street whenever the hell they wanted to. Red lights meant nothing to New Yorkers.

Scowling, he lifted his binoculars and focused on Charlie’s face. She looked worried. And his insides twisted in response. He wasn’t sure how he’d developed this protective streak, but when it came to her and her son, it was ramped up beyond anything he’d ever felt before.

Charlie glanced around, let her gaze slide slowly over where she knew he was hiding and a small smile curved her mouth. Good. He didn’t want her scared. He wanted this to be over. And if he couldn’t be right beside her, then at least she felt better knowing he was close. It also helped to have one of the Waverly security guards in plainclothes, standing nearby.

When the man approached, Vance almost didn’t notice him for a second. He looked so nondescript. Ugly brown suit, bad black wig and ridiculously oversize glasses. Vance focused the binoculars on his new target and wished to hell he could read lips when the man started talking to Charlie.

Twenty minutes later, she was sitting across a table from Vance recounting what had happened.

“Everything went wrong,” Charlie complained over a latte and a doughnut.

“Not everything,” Vance argued with a frown. “You met him. Up close and personal.”

“And didn’t recognize him,” she pointed out. Taking a sip of her latte, she held the cup between both palms to ease the chill she still felt. He even had a weird voice. Like he was disguising it, too.

It had been scary, meeting the man who had been threatening her for weeks. But she also felt good about at last doing something proactive instead of simply hiding beneath her desk hoping it would all go away. Plus, knowing that Vance was just across the street with a pair of binoculars had helped a little. Now that the disastrous meeting was over, she and Vance were sitting in the Coffee Spot, comparing notes.

“Tell me again what he said.”

She shook her head and broke off a piece of her glazed doughnut. Rather than eating it, though, she crumbled it until it was doughnut dust on her plate. All around them, people talked or laughed, the espresso machine hissed and steamed and the clatter of plates and cups played background noise.

“He was furious that I wanted to meet,” Charlie said, remembering the man’s deep, scratchy voice and the rage that had driven him. “Really angry. I think I’ve stalled him as long as I can. He said he was through fooling around and that if I didn’t hand over the files by this weekend, he would go to Social Services and file a complaint about me.”

Grimly, Vance clenched his jaw tight enough to grind his teeth into powder. “I was sure one of us would recognize the bastard.” He took a drink of his coffee. “I can’t believe he wore that stupid disguise.”

“It was creepy. And not so stupid,” she added, “since it worked and kept both of us from knowing who he was.” Frowning, she admitted, “He did seem familiar, though. Something about him …”

“With that outfit he was wearing, it was no wonder neither of us recognized him,” Vance grumbled. “The glasses alone made his eyes almost impossible to see.”

True. The ultramagnified lenses had blurred and distorted the guy’s green eyes completely, and you could usually tell a lot about someone from his eyes. The only really distinctive thing about him was the bright red scar that ran from his forehead down to the left side of his jaw. The whole time they’d talked, Charlie’s gaze had fixed on that scar to the point of ignoring everything else.

“The scar—”

“Fake,” Vance muttered.

“What? Why?” she asked. “Why a scar?”

“To keep you from noticing anything else,” he explained. “And it worked. On me, too. I was too far away to be sure, but for a minute or two, I could have sworn I’d seen the guy before.” Disgusted, he blew out a breath. “The way he moved, stood. There was something there, as you said, familiar. Then he turned and all I saw was that scar. Smart, really, to use that to distract us. Plus, he disappeared into the lunch crowd so fast, our security guy missed him completely.”

Disappointment welled inside her and tangled up with the anxiety that seemed to be such a part of her these days. “So we’re no closer to knowing who he is.”

“Not yet.”

“So Jake is still at risk.” Now fear rose up and swamped her disappointment.

His gaze snapped to hers. “My gut tells me this isn’t really about you. Remember, all this started the day the newspaper article was published. I think this is about Waverly’s.”

“But they’re using Jake as leverage.”

“I told you, I won’t let anything happen to your son.”

Charlie nodded, but couldn’t keep the ache in her chest from showing in her eyes. Vance would do all he could—she believed that. But the truth was, she’d hoped that this would be over today. Instead, they were right back where they started.

The next few days were hectic at Waverly’s.

There were provenances to clear, appraisals to collect and a presale exhibition to arrange. With another, although smaller, less celebrated auction to take place in two weeks, Waverly’s would put the items to be included on public display after the weekend.

Open to everyone, the presale exhibition usually garnered a lot of good press and, right now, Waverly’s could use all it could get. Of course, most people only wanted to talk about the Gold Heart statue.

The papers were full of speculation. Every day someone was coming out with a new theory on where the Gold Heart had been all these years and how Waverly’s had managed to get hold of it.

“I don’t have an answer for them,” Ann said as she paced the interior of Vance’s office. “Roark didn’t have time to explain how he came to lay claim to the statue on our behalf. At first, the media was just frenzied about the statue. Now, they’re looking for details and I’ve got nothing.”

“Just leave it alone, Ann,” Vance suggested. “The press is good for the house and when we auction off the statue, it’s going to solidify our reputation and quiet any more rumors.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said wryly.

“I’m always right,” he quipped, thinking that he had said just that to Charlie a few days ago, after their unsuccessful attempt to stop her blackmailer.

“You haven’t heard anything else?” Ann walked to his desk and leaned over, planting both hands on the edge. “No more rumors about a possible hostile takeover by Dalton?”

“Nothing. You?”

“No, everything’s gotten quiet and that worries me,” she admitted. Pushing up from the desk, she folded her arms over her chest and added, “I’ve got Kendra looking into it, trying to feel people out, see if anything pops, but so far, nothing.” She frowned slightly. “Plus, have you noticed, there’s been no response from Rothschild’s about our acquiring the Gold Heart. Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Waverly.”

A voice spoke up from the open doorway and Vance winced. Hell, his mind had been so scattered lately, he hadn’t even shut the door when Ann showed up to talk. Anyone could have been listening to their conversation. But with Charlie out at lunch with her friend Katie, he’d left the door open purposely to be able to keep an eye on the outer office.

Vance looked at the mailroom kid. Teddy. That was his name. Couldn’t have been more than twenty-two, with bright red hair, green eyes and so many freckles he looked as if he’d been spattered with brown paint.

“Come on in, Teddy.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but your assistant’s not at her desk and I’ve got the mail here and—” He stopped nervously. “Ms. Richardson,” he said and just barely resisted bowing.

Ann was gracious, as always. She gave the kid a smile and said, “It’s okay, Teddy. We’ve all got our jobs to do, don’t we?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered, leaving his pushcart at the door and carrying a stack of mail to Vance. Once he’d handed it over, Teddy hurried out again.

When he was gone, Ann turned back to Vance and repeated, “Dalton being so quiet about our good fortune. Doesn’t it worry you?”

“It does,” he said, glancing briefly at the stack of mail and the one oversize manila envelope beneath all the others. Then he stood up to walk around to the front of his desk. Leaning back onto it, he continued, “It’s not like Dalton to be so circumspect. I fully expected him to at least question the authenticity of the statue. Do something to take the shine off the good press we’ve been getting lately.”

“Exactly,” Ann said. “He’s up to something. I just know it.”

“Then all we can do is wait for him to make a move,” he said, not liking that one bit. He hated waiting. Hated feeling as if his hands were tied. And he really hated not being able to ease Charlie’s mind about these threats that were still hanging over her head.

Just a day away from the blackmailer’s weekend deadline, Vance was no closer to discovering the man’s identity. Though the sense of familiarity had been bugging him for days.

Who the hell was that guy?

“I’m not very patient, I’m afraid,” Ann said, with a quick glance at her wristwatch.

“No, neither am I. But I don’t think we have a choice this time.”

“Which only makes it harder,” Ann said, giving him a rueful smile. “Thanks for listening to me, Vance. I’ve got to run to make my meeting with the heads of publicity. They want to show me what they’ve come up with so far on the Gold Heart auction.”

“Already?” Impressive, he thought, since the auction wouldn’t be held for months yet.

“This is the biggest auction we’ve—anyone’s—ever done,” Ann said simply. “We’re going to see to it that this is the most talked about event of the year.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he said, then turned back to his desk when she’d gone.

There was so much going on at Waverly’s these days, there was a damn near tangible thread of anxiety slipping through the whole house. And everyone was feeling it.

He sat down and picked through the mail, setting most of it aside for Charlie to deal with when she got back from lunch. But the thick manila envelope got his attention. There was his name in big block letters. No return address. Heavy. Vance balanced it on his palms and finally flipped it over, undid the clasp and slid the contents onto his desk.

There was no note.

Only pictures.

Dozens of them. Full color and black-and-white and they were all of the same man. Vance tensed as he flipped through them quickly. Every photo showed the same man wearing a different disguise. There was enough about the shape of his head, the way he stood, the way he squinted into the light, that all seemed familiar, again and again, despite the ways he was trying to hide his real identity. In some, he wore colored contacts, others, those magnifying glasses Vance had seen him in. In every photo, he wore wigs, sometimes a scar, sometimes an eye patch, always something to distract the viewer. But it was always the same man.

Charlie’s blackmailer.

“Who the hell took these?” Vance muttered as he found a shot of the mystery man talking to Charlie outside the Coffee Spot the day of their scheduled meet. Vance had been there. He hadn’t seen anyone pointing a camera, although, he’d been too busy focusing on Charlie to have noticed. He continued looking through the photos until he came to the last one.

Then he dropped the others and studied the photo of a good-looking man with wide, dark blue eyes. He tapped the photo with his finger as a flare of satisfaction shot through him.

“Dammit,” he whispered in satisfaction, “I knew you were familiar.” He knew this guy. Had known him for years.

Henry Boyle, one of two assistants to Dalton Rothschild, CEO of Rothschild’s auction house. “You son of a bitch. I’ve got you now. And whatever you and Dalton are planning—not going to work.”

He studied that photo for a long minute or two, reveling in the pleasure he felt at the knowledge that he could tell Charlie her problems were over. Now that he knew who was behind all this, he was going to the police. They’d have Henry arrested before end of business.

Then, as he continued to look at the photo, something else dawned on him. Something that he should have guessed. Who the hell else would have known all Charlie’s secrets? Who else would have known what to threaten her with?

“I know those eyes of yours, too, you bastard,” he said to the man in the picture. “I see them every day, in your son.”

Charlie’s blackmailer was Jake’s father.

It wasn’t easy to tell her. And once it was done, all he could do was listen as she poured out her fury.

“How could he do that to me? To his son?” she raged, prowling the confines of his office as if it were a cage she couldn’t escape. “What kind of man treats people like that?”

“A bad one,” Vance offered.

“‘Bad’?” she repeated, staring at him openmouthed. “He’s more than bad. He’s … evil. Disgusting. Appalling. He was using me to take Waverly’s down!”

“Yeah,” Vance said, “he was.”

If he had needed more proof that Charlie was in no way involved in any of it—which he didn’t—seeing her like this would have convinced him.

“And he’s my son’s father!” She stopped at that and turned wide eyes on Vance.

“What?” he asked, going to her, holding her.

“Jake. Oh, my poor baby. What can I possibly tell him about his father?”

He heard the pain in her voice and speaking only to that, said, “Tell him you loved him.”

“I thought I did, yes.” Her gaze shot to his. “And what does that say about me? What kind of judge of character am I that I could make a child with a man who could do something so hideous?”

Vance pulled her in tightly to him and closed his eyes as she wrapped her arms around his waist and held on. He didn’t like acknowledging that she had cared for the bastard. That some other man had had a shot with Charlie and then was fool enough to waste it. “It says you have a generous heart. It says you don’t look for the bad in people.”

“And that I’m an idiot. Don’t forget that part,” she muttered, her face buried in his chest.

He laughed a little and cupped her head in his palms, tipping her back so that he could look into her eyes. “You’re the smartest woman I know, Charlie. This isn’t about you. It’s about Henry Boyle and the mistakes he made.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” Vance told her, willing her to believe him as his heart broke at the sheen of furious tears in her eyes. “He was stupid enough to walk away from you and your son. He’s the idiot. Never forget that.”

Her lips twisted into a half smile. “You’re being nice to me again.”

“I shouldn’t be?”

“You should be furious. Because of me, Waverly’s might have been ruined.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Could have been,” she argued.

“Could-haves don’t count,” he said with a smile. “Besides, look at it this way. You started this scared to death, but you stood up to him. You fought back and you won.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“Is it working?”

“Yeah,” she said softly, “it is.” She laid her head down on his chest again and sighed heavily. “It’s over, isn’t it? Jake’s safe.”

“Yeah.” He wrapped his arms around her and held her as tightly to him as he could. “It’s over. Jake’s safe. And so are you.”

“Thank you.” Her whisper was almost lost, but Vance heard it and whispered a “thanks” of his own to whoever it was who had sent those photos.

A couple of hours later, calls had been made, charges filed and it was all over but for the last act.

“You’re sure you want to be here for this?” Vance kept one arm around Charlie’s shoulders, holding her tight to his side.

They stood outside Rothschild’s auction house in the late-afternoon sun. A police patrol car was parked at the curb and people passing on the sidewalk were slowing down to see what was happening.

“I’m sure,” she said, lifting her chin and stiffening her spine. “I want to see him arrested. I want to know that it’s over. Really.”

He understood that, though he would have kept her away if he could. Hell, just remembering the shocked, stunned expression on her face when he’d told her what he’d discovered had been enough to level him. But then he remembered how quickly she had shifted from shock to fury and his admiration for her soared.

No one would ever keep Charlie down. She had too much strength. Henry Boyle should have recognized that.

Vance came up out of his thoughts at the outraged shout.

“You can’t arrest me! You have no proof of anything!”

Still holding on to Charlie’s shoulders, Vance turned to watch as two police officers—one man, one woman—walked Henry Boyle out of Rothschild’s. The man was shouting and pulling at the officers, trying to get away, but with his hands cuffed in front of him, it wouldn’t be easy. A crowd was gathering on the sidewalk, but the traffic in the street was still a steady stream of movement and color.

Charlie stiffened against him when Henry’s wild gaze landed on her and he screamed in impotent rage.

“You stupid bitch! This is all your fault! All you had to do was give me the damn files!”

Vance’s fury was growing to match Boyle’s but he stood his ground and tugged Charlie half-behind him to protect her from the enraged man getting closer.

“Bitch! Stupid!”

“Come on now,” the male officer said as he reached down to open the squad car door. “Enough of that. Let’s go. You’ll get your say eventually.”

“Screw that!” Henry yanked free of the man’s grip, head-butted the female officer, and when she staggered backward, pulled free of her as well. With a last, frantic look at Charlie, Henry sprinted for freedom, pushing through the onlookers, rushing for the street.

He dodged a hybrid car and a yellow cab. Brakes squealed. People shouted. Horns blared. He was almost clear when he ran straight into the path of a city bus unable to stop in time.

Charlie choked out a cry as she turned her face into Vance’s chest. And as the street erupted into shocked screams, he held her there, sparing her from seeing what had become of Henry Boyle.

Twelve

Three nights later, Vance found Charlie on the terrace in the moonlight. Even in his too-big T-shirt that she’d been wearing to sleep in, she looked like a pagan goddess, standing in front of a bank of flowers with the star-filled sky and moon above her.

That wonderful hair of hers hung loose to the middle of her back and the breeze sliding over the Plexiglas wall lifted long blond strands into a dance around her head.

Her gaze was locked on the river, with the city reflected on the water in brilliant, wavering slashes of light and color. She was so still, so quiet, so entranced at staring out at the view, she wasn’t even aware of him. So Vance had time to get control of the raging emotions rushing through him. Just minutes ago, he’d awakened, reached out for her in their bed and found her gone. For one heart-stopping second, fear had closed his throat before he’d realized that she’d probably gotten up to check on Jake. So he had, too. He’d found the baby sleeping peacefully, curled up into a ball—but Vance had had to search out the baby’s mother.

Finding her here, in the moonlit darkness, shifted something elemental inside him. It was bigger, deeper than anything he had ever known.

Was this love?

God, he hadn’t even mentally jerked back from that word. Which just went to prove how far gone he was. His whole life, he’d never seen love last. People in his family didn’t stay married. His parents had split up when he was just a kid. Even his friends fell in and out of “love” with regularity, so it was never something Vance had had any faith in.

It was a word he’d never used with a woman because he didn’t want to say what he didn’t—couldn’t—feel.

But now, with Charlie … All right, he was the first to admit that he didn’t know jack about love. But he did know that this woman and her child had carved a place for themselves in his heart. That was saying something, wasn’t it?

She turned her head to smile at him and his breath caught in his lungs. Her eyes shone and the curve of her mouth was irresistible to him. Everything about her was. And with that thought came the realization that he was in so deep now, he didn’t think he’d ever find his way out.

“What’re you doing out here?” He stepped through the sliding-glass door onto the tiled floor of the terrace.

“I woke up,” she said with a shrug. “I checked on Jake, then it was such a nice night, I came out here to do some thinking.”

“Always dangerous when a clever woman starts thinking,” he said, walking toward her. He came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her middle and let her lean back into him.

Since the end of the threat against her, Charlie had been … thoughtful. She was sad about Henry’s death, but relieved that her son was safe. But there was more she wasn’t saying, Vance knew. And that bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

She laid her hands on his arms and her head against his chest. And Vance felt … complete.

“Want to tell me what you’ve been thinking about?”

Her fingers stroked the skin of his arms with a gentle touch. “That it’s time Jake and I went home.”

He took a breath and held it. He wasn’t even sure his heart was still beating. “Home? Why?”

She turned in his arms then and looked up at him, shaking her hair back from her face. “Because we don’t belong here, Vance. You’ve been wonderful. Helped us when we needed it. Helped me. But this was never supposed to be permanent, right?”

No, no one had said anything about permanent. But they hadn’t put a time limit on it, either. Frowning, he swallowed hard and instead of answering her question, asked one of his own. “What’s the rush? You’ve been happy here. Jake and I get along great—”

“You do,” she said wistfully. “But I have to go back to my life, Vance.” She took a moment and looked around the terrace, the view and even the sky above. “As beautiful as all of this is, it isn’t my home.”

“It could be.”

“Vance—”

“I’m just saying.” Hell, he didn’t know what he was saying. All he knew was that her talking about leaving had blown a hole through his insides. Even his heartbeat was ragged. “Stay a while, at least. Let’s enjoy each other without the threat of doom hanging over our heads.”

She smiled sadly. “That won’t change anything.”

“Why does it have to?” He let her go, took a step or two away, then turned back to face her again. “Do we have to classify this—whatever it is—between us? Why can’t we just go on the way we have been?”

“Because it’s not just me, Vance.” She didn’t sound angry. Just sad. “I have to think about Jake, too.”

“I am thinking about Jake,” he argued and didn’t care for the sound of desperation in his voice. “He’s happy here. He likes his room. He likes me.”

“Too much,” she said and those two words jabbed at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means he’s getting more aware every day. It means I heard him say ‘Dada’ this morning when you were feeding him his oatmeal.”

Yeah, Vance thought, remembering the little boy’s delight at mastering another word. Remembering also how happy he’d been when the boy reached out for him and said that word.

“If I don’t leave, he’ll start believing you are his father and then taking him away later will just hurt him that much more.”

“Why now?” Vance demanded, rubbing one hand against the ache that was dead center in his chest. “Why all of a sudden the talk of leaving?”

She pushed her hair back with one hand as the wind tossed it across her eyes. “It’s not all of a sudden. Ever since Henry … died, I’ve known I had to leave. You have, too, Vance. You just don’t want to admit it.”

“Ah,” he said tightly, “now you’re a mind reader.”

“Nothing so fabulous,” she countered. “But I recognize reality when it’s right in front of me.”

Vance’s brain was racing even as his heart seemed to be slowing down into a sluggish rhythm. She was wrong. He hadn’t even considered Charlie and Jake leaving. He’d gotten used to having them there. To tripping on the baby’s toys in the darkness. To the smell of oatmeal in the morning and, mostly, to the feel of Charlie, nestled in his arms every night.

He hadn’t been thinking beyond getting rid of the threat to her. Now he could see that freeing Charlie meant—freeing Charlie.

Without a reason to stay, of course she would want to take her son back to their apartment. So all of them could get back to their lives. No more watching baseball games with Jake on his lap. No more glasses of wine with Charlie before dinner. No more laughter. No more anything. He would have his privacy again. The quiet of an empty penthouse. He’d see Charlie at work and this—whatever it was—between them would eventually shrivel and die.

That was what should happen, wasn’t it? He’d never meant for any of this to last. He’d only begun this thing to save Waverly’s, right? He looked at her now and felt everything in him go cold and still. Life without her sounded bleak. How the hell was he supposed to give her up?

“Vance?”

Flowers scented the warm air. They were high enough above the city lights that the stars were clear in the black sky. And the moonlight—God, she was made for moonlight—poured down over her like magic.

He didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to think. He wanted to feel what he only felt with Charlie. He wanted to lose himself in her. And wasn’t that a sort of answer to her question?

He crossed the terrace to her, grabbed her hard and pulled her tight against him.

“No more talking,” he muttered, “and no leaving. Not yet. Okay?”

Charlie looked up at him and nodded. “Not yet. Okay.”

A stay of execution was all he could think of before he claimed her mouth in a soul-searing kiss that left him staggered and hungry for all of her.

In seconds, he had the hem of her nightshirt lifted, scraping it up along her luscious body, and then off and over her head. Moonlight kissed her skin and then he was doing the same. Lavishing attention on every square inch of her body, he turned her, laid her down on the cushioned chaise nearby and in the darkness heard her gasp of pleasure. “Vance—”

As his mouth covered the very heart of her and he felt her tremble, he thought, This is what matters. Before shutting his mind down and reveling in the glory of Charlie, he told himself that what they shared together wasn’t just important. It was everything.

Ann Richardson presided over the board meeting at Waverly’s the following morning. Standing at the head of the conference table, she looked at each member of the board for a moment or two before finally settling her gaze on Vance.

“Thanks to Vance,” she said with a regal nod of her head, “we managed to stop at least one threat against Waverly’s.”

“Never could trust a Rothschild,” George muttered darkly and Veronica shushed him.

“Dalton’s issued a press release denying any knowledge of what Henry Boyle was up to,” Vance put in, giving George a quick look.

The old man snorted. “Dalton knows everything that goes on in his house. You can take that to the bank. Dalton’s got two assistants. Henry was one of ‘em. You really believe that fool came up with this plan on his own? I don’t think so.”

“Neither do I,” Vance agreed. Dalton was no doubt behind the attempt at gaining information. But they’d have a hell of a time trying to prove it. He looked over at Ann, who nodded again. “I think all of us are on the same page there, George. But the bottom line is that Dalton’s denied it and the police have found nothing tying him to Henry’s plan.”

“Your assistant doesn’t know anything more?” Edwina’s voice sounded soft, concerned.

“No, she doesn’t,” Vance said. “She’s simply relieved that the threat is over.”

“As are we all,” Simon piped up from his seat, slapping one arthritic hand against the table for emphasis.

“The problem,” Ann put in, silencing everyone with her cool voice, “is that we can’t be sure the threat is over.” She waved away George’s objections before he could start speaking again. “Yes, of course, this particular incident is over. But that doesn’t mean that Dalton Rothschild will quit trying to take us down. We all have to remain alert. Aware of what’s going on in the house.” She looked at each of them in turn again. “We can’t trust anyone,” she said softly.

Vance knew she was right, but he was glad he and Charlie had already passed through their test of fire. He knew he could trust her with his life. Now if he could just bring himself to trust her with his heart …

“We have to stay together on this,” Ann was saying. “A team. To protect Waverly’s.”

“Of course, dear,” Veronica said, softly applauding Ann’s words. “You know you have our full support. Isn’t that right, George?”

The older man nodded grudgingly. “Yes, yes. We’re all a team. Rah, rah. Can we stop talking about Dalton Rothschild now? You’re giving me indigestion.”

Vance smothered a laugh and Ann rolled her eyes. “Very well,” she said, “if we’ve finished with the Rothschild portion of the meeting, I have an announcement to make.”

“Better news I hope, dear,” Edwina said.

“Much better.” Ann gave them all a wide smile. “You all know Macy Tarlington?”

George harrumphed. “Knew her mother,” he said with a knowing wink. “Tina Tarlington. Now that was a woman. Hell of an actress, too.”

“Her daughter hasn’t done as well, has she?” Veronica asked no one in particular.

“Hell, no,” George said. “Not a shadow of Tina.”

Tina Tarlington had been a rare beauty who’d died recently at the relatively young age of sixty-two. Famous all over the world, Tina was as much known for her three marriages and her collection of diamonds as she was for her acting skills.

Vance gave Ann a shrewd look. “You got it?”

“I got it,” she said and practically crowed with delight. Then, to the rest of the board, she said, “I’ve convinced Macy Tarlington, after much wining and dining, to allow Waverly’s to conduct her late mother’s estate sale. Tina’s jewelry collection alone will make the sale a not-to-be-missed event.”

Vance only half listened to the congratulations and the rife speculation on what might be included in Tina’s collection of mementos. Smiling to himself, he took his first easy breath in a couple of weeks.

The threat to Charlie was gone. It looked like Waverly’s was going to be safe and retain its well-earned reputation. The only thing left to do, he thought, was decide what he wanted and then to go after it. Charlie’s face swam up into his mind and everything in him jolted with excitement. Just thinking about her had his pulse pounding and his body tightening. She was what he needed. What he had always needed.

The answer was so simple. His heart had known from the beginning. It was only his brain that had refused to see the truth.

He loved Charlie Potter.

And he was never letting her go.

Charlie waited outside the boardroom for Vance to be free. She had a sheaf of papers requiring his signature and Justin had been haranguing her on the phone about them for the past half hour. Once Vance had signed them, she’d take them downstairs so Justin’s heart palpitations could stop.

Standing against the wall, she shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable standing too long in the high heels Vance liked so much. She smiled to herself as she remembered their first time making love when he’d insisted that she never get rid of them.

Silly, she knew. But he made her happy. Enough that she was postponing the inevitable by staying with him a few more days. She didn’t want to leave, but what choice did she have? She couldn’t love a man who didn’t love her back. There was no future in that. For any of them.

Her head tipped back against the wall and she stared up at the ceiling. How would she ever live without him? How could she continue to work for him knowing that what they had shared so briefly was over? She wouldn’t be able to and she knew it. The only sane thing to do would be to quit her job.

Then she would have lost everything.

Frowning now, she straightened up when the boardroom door opened. She heard George Cromwell speaking, his gruff voice unmistakable.

“That was a good job you did, Vance. Catching the blackmailer.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’m glad it worked out.”

Her stomach dipped and rolled in reaction to Vance’s voice, and she nearly sighed at the hopeless case she’d become.

“I heard the rumors about you and that cute assistant of yours. Clever of you, romancing her so you could get to the bottom of it so fast.”

Vance stepped out of the boardroom and saw her. He stopped dead and though he didn’t say anything, guilt was stamped so cleanly on his features, he didn’t have to speak.

Charlie felt as though she’d been slapped. Was that all she had been? A tool used to capture Henry? Had none of it been true? Ever? Reeling from the implications of George’s statement, and the fact that Vance hadn’t denied it, she hurried down the hall, away from the boardroom, away from the man shouting her name.

“What the—” George muttered as Vance took off after her at a dead run.

Charlie beat him to the office and turned to slam the door on him, but Vance was too quick. He slapped one hand against the door and hit it hard enough that it smacked against the wall.

“Don’t you even speak to me,” she warned, and threw the papers needing his signature at him. They fluttered like oversize snowflakes to the floor.

Hurt, humiliation and good old-fashioned temper were steering her course now. She felt as if she were going to explode from the pressure building inside.

“Charlie, dammit,” he said, slamming the door closed so no one could overhear them, “hear me out at least.”

“No. There’s nothing you can say to me now that I want to hear. That’s it. I quit.” And to think only moments ago, she’d been dreading that decision. Now there was no other choice.

She hurried across the room to her desk and bent down to yank open the bottom drawer. She grabbed her purse, kicked the drawer shut and stood up.

He was right in front of her. His dark hair falling over his forehead. His brown eyes, with those gold flecks, were churning with emotion and his jaw was so tight, she saw the muscles there twitching.

“No way are you quitting.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“Watch me.” He grabbed her and held her in place, though she squirmed and wriggled and tried to break free. Finally, in desperation, Charlie drew her right foot back and kicked him in the shins.

He yelped, and that was satisfying, but he didn’t let her go, and that was infuriating.

“Dammit, will you just hold still for a second and listen to me?”

“Why should I?” she shouted. “I heard what George said to you and more importantly what you didn’t say back.”

“I didn’t have a chance to say anything. I saw you there and then you were running—”

“What would you have said, Vance?” She threw the words at him as a challenge. “Would you have denied it? Could you?”

He didn’t say anything, but the flicker of regret on his features said plenty.

Pain lanced through her. “I wondered, you know, why you were being nice to me. Remember, I even asked you. You didn’t answer me, but then how could you?” She shook her head in disgust. “Not easy to say, ‘I’m seducing your secrets out of you, Charlie—that okay with you?’”

“All right, fine,” he grumbled. “That was how it started. I think. Hell, I don’t even know for sure anymore.”

“Right.”

“I’m telling you the truth, Charlie.” He let her go, shoved both hands through his hair and said, “Ever since you walked in here, I haven’t been able to think straight. At first I thought it was your hair distracting me. Or maybe those damn shoes.” He shook his head again as if trying to understand all this himself.

“But it wasn’t any one thing at all. It was just you, Charlie. Your laughter. Your eagerness to learn. Your love of … everything.” He choked out a laugh. “You sneaked up on me. And yeah, I thought it would be a good idea, to take you out a couple times, romance you a little. See if I could figure out if you were a spy or not.”

“Romance me. At the Zoo Diner?”

“See?” He threw both hands high and let them drop to his sides again. His expression was baffled. “See what you do to me? I sat in the middle of that toddler hell and actually had a good time. I didn’t expect that. Didn’t expect you. What you did to me. How you made me feel. How you made everything better.”

Charlie wished she could believe him, but how could she? How could she ever trust him again? She felt the sting of tears in her eyes, but blinked them back. “You were using me. Just as Henry did.”

“No,” he said firmly.

“Yes,” she said. “But I’m done being used. By you. By anyone. I quit, Mr. Waverly. I’ll be by this weekend to pick up Jake’s and my things.”

“Charlie—”

She walked past him, head held high. He didn’t follow and that was good. Because Charlie didn’t know if she had the strength to walk away from him twice.

Vance shut himself up in his condo and didn’t speak to anyone. He didn’t go to work. Didn’t return his brother’s calls and refused to give a flying damn about Waverly’s or anything else.

His house was so quiet, it was driving him crazy. He stood in the doorway of Jake’s room and looked at the empty crib, feeling a similar emptiness in his own chest. The room still smelled like baby and Jake’s toys were still scattered across the floor. He bent down and picked up the red rubber ball and idly tossed it from hand to hand.

Then he wandered across the hall to the master bedroom. The room he hadn’t been able to sleep in since Charlie left. How the hell could he? She’d stamped herself all over the room. The T-shirt she slept in. Her hairbrush on the bathroom counter. Her slippers on the floor beside the bed. Her pillow that smelled like peaches.

The damn woman was everywhere but where she belonged.

He tossed the ball to the floor, stalked down the hall to the living room and out onto the terrace. He didn’t look at the chaise because recalling that particular memory at the moment might just finish him off. Instead, he stared at the river and mentally went over the plan that had begun forming when Charlie called that morning to say she would be at his place at one o’clock to pick up her things.

“I know what I want now,” he said, squinting into the sunlight dancing on the surface of the river. “And what I want, I get.”

He’d given Charlie two days to cool down. But when she showed up there at one to pack up her stuff, they were going to talk. Well, he was going to talk and she was going to listen. If he had to tie her to a chair.

The doorbell rang an hour later and Vance cursed. He wasn’t completely set up yet. He needed five more minutes. It figured the woman would show up early.

He walked barefoot across the room, his worn jeans dropping low along his hips, his bare chest warm from being out on the terrace collecting every damn flower he owned.

Yanking the door open, he stared down at her and he felt that hard, solid jolt of lust and what he recognized now as … love. She looked so damn small. Her hair was in a long braid hanging down the center of her back. She wore a bright blue blouse that did amazing things for her eyes and her khaki shorts stopped midthigh. Her sandals had daisies on the toes and her nails were painted a rich crimson.

Everything about her made him want to gather her up and hold on so tight she’d never get free. But first, she had to listen.

“I won’t bother you for long, Vance,” she said, stepping past him into the great room. “I’m just going to throw our things into the boxes we used when we came here—you still have them, don’t you?”

“If I said no would it stop you?”

“No,” she said sadly as she turned and headed for the bedrooms.

“Where’s Jake, Charlie?” He stopped her with one hand on her arm and that simple touch sent a bolt of heat dancing throughout his body. He’d been so cold without her that the heat was staggering. God, how could he have been so stupid to have waited so long to see the truth? How could he have risked this? Risked her?

She looked down at his hand on her arm, then lifted her gaze to his. “With Katie. Don’t, Vance. Don’t make it harder on both of us. Just let me pack up, okay?”

He let her go and followed her down the hall to the master bedroom. She opened the door and stopped dead on the threshold.

Exactly the kind of response he’d been hoping for.

He’d dragged every one of those pots of flowers in from the terrace. His bedroom looked like a tropical garden. The blue duvet on the bed had been sprinkled with rose petals and there was a bottle of champagne chilling in a silver bucket on the bedside table. The drapes were drawn and candles lit and soft jazz poured from the stereo.

“What is this?”

“This is seduction, Charlie,” he said, satisfaction plain in his tone.

“Vance …”

He turned her around, hands first on her shoulders, then sliding up to cup her face. His thumbs stroked across her cheekbones and caught a single tear that rolled from her eye. “Just listen to me, okay? Give me that?”

She swallowed hard, and nodded.

Encouraged, he took her hand and drew her into the bedroom, seating her on the edge of the bed. She perched there uneasily, as if ready to bolt. He’d have only one chance to get this right. Or his entire life was screwed.

No pressure, as Roark would have said.

He took a breath and blew it out, scraped one hand across his face and finally forced himself to meet her eyes. “You were right. I did start out to romance you for all the wrong reasons.”

She frowned.

“But that changed so fast, Charlie.” He laughed at himself. “Sitting in that godawful diner, listening to the howls of all of those kids and looking into your smiling eyes, I started falling.”

“Vance.”

“No more lies, Charlie,” he said, stepping up close to her. He cupped her cheek in his palm briefly before backing away again, because he knew he had to have a clear head to do this right. And touching Charlie fogged up his brain like nothing else. “I didn’t know what was happening and when I finally figured it out, I told myself it wasn’t happening. Because that was easier than risking what I felt for you.

“See, I didn’t know what the hell love was, Charlie. Until you.”

She gasped a little and folded her hands together in her lap, squeezing until the knuckles went white.

“I’ve never even used the word before, so how could I believe what I was feeling was real?” He reached up and shoved one hand through his hair, then looked around the room at what he’d made of it. “From the first minute you walked into my office, I felt … different. You woke me up, Charlie. Made me see the world around me. Made me realize everything I’d been missing.”

“Vance,” she said softly.

“No, don’t talk yet,” he ordered, stabbing one finger in the air at her. “You said everything you had to say the other day in the office and I don’t blame you. I was a jerk and you were hurt. But I never was using you, Charlie. Don’t think that. Even when I didn’t consciously know it, I loved you.”

She sucked in a gulp of air and another tear coursed along her cheek. Vance’s heart fisted in his chest.

“Don’t cry. I can’t take it when you cry.” He walked up to her again, pulled her up off the bed and looked down into her eyes. “I love you so much.” He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and said it again. “I love you. Believe me, Charlie. I will always love you.”

“I do,” she whispered, her mouth curving in that delectable smile that turned Vance’s insides to mush.

He grinned and let loose a relieved sigh. “Now there’s a phrase I want you to get comfortable with.”

“What?”

“I do. Two words I’m going to want you to repeat as soon as I find a judge to marry us.”

“Marry?” She stared up at him, dumbfounded. “You want to marry me?”

“What did you think this was all about?” he asked, laughing. “Think I dragged all these damn flowers in here to ask you to go steady or something? Think I’ve got champagne chilled because we’re going to shack up?”

“I—I—”

“I never thought I’d see this,” he said with another quick grin. “She’s speechless.”

“Sort of. Vance, remember, I’m a package deal.”

“And I want the whole package,” he told her as his heart thudded painfully in his chest. “You and Jake. If you’ll let me, I’ll adopt him. I already feel like he’s mine.”

“Adopt—” Her mouth dropped open and she slapped one hand to it.

“And I want more kids, Charlie. At least three or four.”

“Four—”

“I bought your house.”

“You what?”

“That house you love in Forest Hills Gardens? I bought it.”

“How? When? Why?”

He grinned. “Three excellent questions. Let’s just say I went over there last night and made them an offer they couldn’t refuse. The house is ours, Charlie. We can move in next month. All you have to do is say yes.”

“You bought the house?” She was stunned, blinking as if she half expected to find herself in a dream with someone waking her up any moment.

“Charlie, I want to give you and Jake everything. I want us to be a family. I want to say I love you every day for the rest of my life.”

“I can’t believe you bought that house.”

“You loved it.”

“Yes, but …”

“Charlie,” he said, his voice an urgent whisper as he fought for the thing he had wanted most in his life, “it’s just a building. Until you say yes and live in it with me, it’s just bricks and mortar and stone and—You’re the heart, Charlie. The heart of me. The heart of that house. Without you, we’re both incomplete.”

“I do love you so much, Vance,” she finally whispered as if she said it too loudly, it would shatter the moment.

“Say it again,” he urged, pulling her closer.

“I love you. I love you.”

He bent his forehead to hers. “God, that sounds good.”

She laughed shortly and looked around at the wonder he’d created just for her. “Vance, I can’t believe you did all this….”

“Hey!” He stopped, kissed her hard and fast. “There’s one more thing. Almost forgot. If you hadn’t been early, I’d have had it here. Can’t believe I left out this part. Amazing. Woman, you completely destroy my mind whenever I’m near you.” He pushed her onto the bed again, took a step and said, “Stay right there. I’ll only be gone a minute.”

She laughed and the wonderful sound of it followed him down the hall into the great room. He swung the painting over the hearth out of the way, opened the vault hidden behind it and reached inside for the surprise he’d left to the end, just in case he needed it.

Then he was back in the bedroom and holding out a flat, black velvet case to her. “I got this for you. I didn’t know it at the time. I had my representative call in and buy it. For an investment. But I think, even my subconscious realized that it was meant for you. And for me.”

“What?” She tipped open the box, gasped and said, “Oh my God! The queen of Cadria’s necklace?” She lifted her gaze to his. “Are you crazy?”

He laughed and dropped onto the bed beside her. “Only for you, Charlie. That necklace promises a long and happy marriage. And that’s what I want. With you.”

“You are crazy,” Charlie whispered as she dragged the tip of one finger across a ruby surface. Then she carefully closed the box and looked into Vance’s eyes. “And I love you being this crazy.”

“Show me,” he said.

And she did.

Three days later at Waverly’s …

“Ms. Richardson?” Kendra said into the intercom. “There’s a call for you on line 3.”

“Who is it?”

“He claims to be Sheikh Raif Khouri of Rayas. He says to tell you it’s about the Gold Heart statue.”

Ann felt a cold chill snake along her spine. Slowly, she reached for the phone with the same enthusiasm she would have shown for grabbing a live cobra.

When she punched into the line, she said smoothly, “Hello, this is Ann Richardson.”

“Ah, Ms. Richardson, thank you for taking my call.”

“Not at all. How can I help you?” Her mouth was dry and her stomach was doing twists and spins. Nerves jangled through every part of her body, but she kept her voice steady.

“I believe I am the one who can help you.”

“In what way?”

There was a long pause and then the man on the other end of the line sighed before saying, “It is about the Gold Heart statue. What I have to say may save you and your company a great deal of embarrassment.”

“I don’t understand. Is there a problem?”

“I would think so,” he told her, voice clipped with just an undercurrent of anger and suspicion. “The statue you have in your possession is either stolen—or a fake.”

The bottom dropped out of Ann’s world. This couldn’t be true. The press surrounding the acquisition of the statue had been global. Everyone in the world knew that Waverly’s had the Gold Heart. If they were found to have obtained it illegally—or, worse yet, to have been trying to palm off a fake as the real thing …

“That’s ridiculous,” Ann said, standing up since she couldn’t sit still another minute. “My experts tell me the statue is genuine. And as for it being stolen—”

“Two of the three statues in existence are now missing,” Sheikh Raif interrupted. “One was stolen over a hundred years ago—”

“And that is the one we have.”

“So you say. But since that statue has been missing for a hundred years, it seems unlikely that Waverly’s would have found it, don’t you think?”

Ann didn’t say anything.

“The other Gold Heart,” he continued, “was stolen just weeks ago from the palace. This is the statue I believe you have now. If so, I must insist on its return to Rayas. Immediately.”

Ann dropped back into her desk chair, completely exhausted. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath and her heart was beating so fast that she was surprised it hadn’t simply flown out of her chest.

This was a nightmare.

Roark had sworn the statue was legitimate, so she knew it wasn’t a fake. Could he really have found the long-missing statue, even though it had eluded discovery for more than a century? Or had he somehow been given a stolen artifact?

“Ms. Richardson?”

“Yes, I’m here,” she said.

“I’m afraid we have a problem that we must solve. Together.”

Oh, this was a problem, she thought as she listened to the sheikh telling her exactly what his country expected of her and Waverly’s.

She had to get hold of Roark. Had to know if the statue was real and how he’d come by it. She needed the provenance to be clear and unmistakable.

Otherwise, the scandal that would break would be Waverly’s undoing. And all that she had worked for her entire adult life would come crashing down around her.

Preview

What is the history of the Gold Heart statue? Turn the page for an exclusive story by USA TODAY bestselling author Barbara Dunlop and find out. Then look for the next installment of THE HIGHEST BIDDER, EXQUISITE ACQUISITIONS, by Charlene Sands, wherever Harlequin Books are sold.

The Gold Heart, Part 1

Rayas, 1762

Princess Laila Adan Bajal was about to lose her virginity. She knew it was her duty. She understood the basic mechanics of the act. And she realized that her submission would protect her country from war. The only thing she couldn’t figure out was how to stop it from happening.

Her marriage to Prince Tariq Nuri was less than three hours old. In the master chamber of the Tal Palace, a gift to the couple from her father, the king, she’d been bathed, rubbed with jasmine oil, and dressed in the finest silks by her servants, before being left alone to await the man who’d done nothing but scowl at her since they’d met three days ago.

He knew she was unwilling. He didn’t care. Why would he? She was a means to an end. She’d warm his bed, bear his children, and provide an alliance between her beloved Rayas and his neighboring country of Al-Kumain. Her father had been given a choice: provide a daughter for the warrior prince, or lose his kingdom to the marauding hordes, who had been rising up against the Ottoman Empire and terrorizing the Arabian peninsula for nearly three years.

Laila’s sister said she should be grateful that Prince Tariq was a soldier. A solider was often away from home. She wouldn’t have to suffer him every day of her life.

Alone in the massive, domed-ceiling room, Laila was restless, pacing as she tried to calm her nerves. The mosaic-tile floor was cool under her feet. White marble pillars gleamed in all four corners, while a dripping-gold chandelier glowed overhead with yellow candlelight, throwing flickering shadows on the gilded walls and the gauzy, white bed curtains.

The large door swung open behind her, and her stomach clenched to a hard pit. He was here. Her ordeal had begun.

“Your Highness?” came a soft, female voice.

Laila whirled to see her aunt Dhelal, the woman who had raised her since her mother’s assassination ten years ago. Relief flooded through her.

She allowed herself to hope that her new husband had changed his mind. Perhaps he’d sleep somewhere else, or spend the night with his comrades, sharing stories of bravery and heroism. Should he wish, he’d have no trouble finding a woman in the village that surrounded the palace.

A male servant silently followed her aunt inside the room. He placed a large, fabric-covered object on a table near the foot of the bed. Her aunt quickly and sharply dismissed him.

Laila waited for the older woman to speak.

“His Majesty knew this day would come.” Dhelal’s tone was much softer as she moved forward and took both Laila’s hands in hers.

Laila blinked away a sudden tear. She loved her father, and she understood his position, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal. Had there been no other way?

Dhelal gestured to the rich green-and-gold brocade cover. “This gift was carved from Royal Han marble, the rarest of the rare. It was crafted by Saleh walud Rahman walud Kunya Al-Fulan, right before his death. It has been blessed at the headwaters of the river. It will bring you luck, my child, good fortune in love.”

Laila couldn’t help a pained laugh at that. “It’s not working.”

“Give it time.”

“I don’t have time.”

Dhelal smiled in sympathy. “You have plenty of time.”

With a final squeeze of Laila’s hands, Dhelal removed the cover, revealing a sleek, carved figure of a woman, mounted on a gold pedestal, her heart etched in gold. The mauve, gold-veined marble reflected the soft candlelight, making the statue seem to glow. The woman’s expression was gentle, serene. Something about it eased the tension from Laila, and for the first time in three days, the cramp left her stomach. Her hand reached automatically out to touch the smooth stone.

The chamber door flew open with a smack. The doorway filled with the breadth of Prince Tariq.

“Leave us.” His guttural command to Dhelal was harsh.

“Do not—” Laila began in horror. But Dhelal’s hand on her arm stopped the protest.

“Good fortune,” Dhelal reminded her gently.

Or death, Laila thought, her gaze fixing on the imposing figure of the prince. She’d thought a lot about death these past days. But she knew if she killed herself, Tariq would demand one of her two sisters. Then again, if it was an accident. If she tripped and fell from a height or was swept away in the river, who could say her father hadn’t kept his side of the bargain?

Dhelal was gone and Tariq slammed the door.

“You are ready,” he stated. It wasn’t a question.

“I am not,” she dared, raising her chin.

“Remove your scarf.”

Laila hesitated. All women in Rayas wore flowing head scarves after puberty. They were mostly bright-colored and beautiful, denoting wealth and social status. In Laila’s case, the pattern conveyed her royal stature. It had been years since she’d removed it in front of a man.

What Tariq was asking was an intimate act, a prelude to everything she feared.

He took a menacing step forward, and she quickly complied with his demand, draping the white, silk garment around her neck. It was trimmed with a purple scroll pattern, laced with fine gold thread—the colors of the royal family.

“You are pretty,” Tariq noted, inspecting her as if she was an Andalusian mare in the royal stables.

He reached for her cheek, and she reflexively recoiled, taking a step back.

He immediately closed the gap between them. “Shall I punish you first?”

She mutely shook her head, nervousness turning to outright fear. She was at his mercy, and they both knew it. Not a single person in the palace would dare aid her.

He reached up again, brushing her cheek with his calloused fingertips. “You are soft.”

“You are not,” she responded, before she could think better of speaking.

“I am not,” he agreed, a wry smile barely quirking the corner of his slash of a mouth. It was the first time she’d seen him with his head bare, though she’d come to know his face well these past few days. That tiny smile was the first sign she’d seen of anything other than anger and distaste. He was tall, strong, his chin square, his skin dusky brown, and his dark eyes penetrating beneath a thick brow. The scar across one cheek said he was battle-hardened and uncompromising.

“Remember that,” he told her, before dropping his hand.

“I’m not likely to forget.”

“Good.” He reached for the top button of his tunic.

Sweat immediately prickled the goose bumps on her skin.

He crossed to the bed. It gleamed with crisp, white sheets, covers pulled back, flower petals sprinkled around the plump pillows. “Shall we get this over with?”

Laila couldn’t move. She simply could not lift her feet from the tile floor.

After a moment, he turned. “No?”

She swallowed, having lost the power of speech.

“You have a different plan?” His black eyes penetrated, and his face formed into a scowl. He was clearly daring her to defy him.

He moved back toward her, watching, like a cobra sizing up a baby chick. He moved far too close, their bodies almost touching.

She could feel his heat, hear the rasp of his breath, smell his spicy, earthy odor.

“I’m going to see you naked, Laila. I’m going to hold you. I’m going to touch you. Putting it off will only make it worse.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m a man and you’re a woman.”

“There are lots of women.”

“And there are lots of men. But you are my wife. And you are Bajal. And our child will avert war.”

“I don’t even know you,” she protested.

“And I don’t know you.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

He did smile then, and it softened his midnight eyes. “No. I suppose it is not. You don’t want me to touch you.”

“No,” she dared.

“Are you afraid or defiant?”

“I’m afraid.”

“They told me you were defiant.”

She might have been defiant—if she wasn’t so terrified. Other than the king, all the men in Rayas were beneath her in the social order. She’d never been subject to a single one. And she’d certainly never met a man so intimidating and powerful and lethal. He killed for a living, and she had no escape.

He inhaled deeply, obviously testing her scent. Then he brushed his cheek against hers. The touch burned, and her breath left her body as he wrapped a hand around her rib cage, thumb resting just below her breast.

Then, to her surprise, he placed a soft kiss on her cheek. He moved to her mouth, kissing her there, tenderly at first, evoking an unexpected buzz of sensation. Then the kisses grew firmer, more insistent. His hand cupped her breast, and she gasped in shock. He pressed his advantage, tongue invading her mouth, his free arm clamping her to his hard body.

She whimpered in fear and in shame, as her breast responded to the warmth of his hand, pleasure somehow flooding her skin.

He suddenly drew back, his breathing ragged. “You are lucky I am strong.”

She didn’t feel lucky. She felt confused and vulnerable, and more frightened than ever.

He took another step back. “You may sleep on the floor.”

She wasn’t sure she’d heard right. A reprieve? Why would he give her a reprieve?

“You will join me by morning.” He turned to the bed. “I will not tolerate servant gossip.”

So, it would happen in the morning then?

Laila was afraid to ask.

She was afraid to move. She averted her eyes while he undressed and climbed into the big bed. She waited for him to change his mind. But he didn’t. He said nothing else.

After a few minutes, her shoulders slumped in relief. She found a few pillows and lay down on the floor.

But she was a princess. She’d never slept anywhere but in a soft, luxurious bed, beneath fresh, fine linens. It was a fitful, horrible night. So when the sun began to rise, she crept fearfully to the bed, teetering on the very edge to stay far away from Tariq. There, she fell instantly asleep.

She lasted three days, and three long, miserable nights. On the fourth night, wide awake, cramped and uncomfortable, she waited until Tariq’s breathing was deep and even. He wouldn’t know, she reasoned. How would he tell what time she’d joined him? It might as well be now as in the cold streaks of dawn. At least then she’d get some sleep.

She rolled silently to her feet, whispering her way across the tile floor, her soft cotton gown flowing in the moonlight. She inched back the covers, slipped one leg onto the bed, and carefully eased onto her back, laying her head on the blessedly soft pillow.

“You are weak,” came Tariq’s deep voice.

She tried to make a quick escape, but his arm clamped over her, pinning her to the bed.

“I thought you would last longer,” he told her.

“I didn’t think you’d wait,” she blurted out in a fit of honesty.

“I guess we both surprise each other.”

They fell silent. Laila couldn’t bring herself to ask what happened now.

Tariq rose on one elbow. He seemed genuinely confused. “You are not the first princess to marry for her country.”

She knew he was right. She knew it was her duty. She even conceded that he had been unexpectedly patient with her. Her gaze focused on the Gold Heart statue at the foot of the bed as she struggled to put her fears into words. “You have killed so many people.”

“I won’t kill you.”

The words surprised a laugh out of her. “That makes it better?”

“You are my wife, Laila. I will protect you and your family and your country.” His face was all planes and angles in the white moonlight. And though he still looked fierce, he didn’t look frightening. For the first time, she pondered the idea of his strength as protection instead of a threat.

This morning, she’d seen him practicing with his sword in the courtyard, swift and skilled against his partners. He was impressive then, and he was impressive now. His chest was bare, and his muscles were defined and delineated from his biceps to his abdomen. Angry-looking scars crisscrossed his chest and shoulders, and she felt her sympathies engage. Despite those flaws, he was a handsome man, a magnificent man. She’d become aware that she was the envy of the women in the palace.

“You’re good at fighting,” she ventured.

“I’m still alive.”

“While your opponents are not.”

“That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

She nodded, her gaze resting on his bronze chest.

“Touch me,” he whispered.

She shook her head.

“My patience is not endless.”

She looked into his eyes. They had darkened again, and she missed his better mood. So, she took a breath, screwed up her courage, and placed her fingertips against his chest. It was hot, supple, but iron-hard.

His hand closed over hers. “You are beautiful.”

“Is that why the king chose me?” The question leaped out. She had two sisters, but her father had chosen her for Tariq, and she couldn’t help but wonder why.

“The king said you were strong. You are not.”

“Are you disappointed?” There was no reason for her to care, but she did.

“I am impatient.” He moved in closer, his lips coming down on hers in the way she remembered. They were soft at first, then firmer, then they parted.

His tongue teased the seam of her lips. She knew what he wanted this time, and she knew she had no choice. She parted her lips, waiting for revulsion to overwhelm her.

It didn’t.

As he kissed her deeply, a flicker of warmth grew to life in the pit of her belly. He shifted, and his hard body pressed intimately against hers. This time, when his hand closed over her breast, she waited, holding still in wonder as the pleasure rippled over her skin.

His thumb flicked her nipple, and a spike of exquisite sensations shot through her body, twitching her thighs and making her gasp.

Tariq drew back in obvious surprise.

He did it again, and her chest arched reflexively against his hand.

“I have changed my mind,” he rumbled, his tone pouring over her like sun-warm honey.

She wanted to ask why, but words were nothing but a jumble inside her head.

“I am not disappointed,” he finished. Then his lips came back down on hers.

For some reason, her arms wound around his neck. She curled against him, reveling in the hard contours of his male body. When he pulled up the hem of her gown, she knew she should protest. But his hands felt exquisite along the length of her thigh, and she could only lie mute, kissing him back, squirming against the softness of the bed as desire caught fire in her throat.

He touched her intimately, and she knew she should be mortified. But she liked it, she loved it, she never, ever wanted him to stop.

“Laila,” he breathed, easing her thighs apart, bunching her gown up out of the way.

He drew back the covers, his gaze on her naked body. Instead of feeling shy, she felt wild and alive.

His fingers pressed firmly to her. She knew what he was doing, but she didn’t care. It didn’t hurt. No one had told her his touch would feel good.

He gazed into her eyes. “You are beautiful.”

“You are gentle,” she told him in absolute wonder.

He smiled at that. His hand moved against her, and warmth suddenly flooded her limbs. She writhed and moaned, arching her hips.

“I am selfish,” he rumbled.

He put his lips to her breast then, drawing her nipple into his heated mouth, his tongue doing something that showered sparks through her body.

“Tariq,” she cried, gripping him tight.

He moved on top of her.

His weight felt good.

His palms stroked the backs of her thighs, pushing up her knees, as his maleness pressed bluntly against her.

She waited for the pain.

Her aunt had told her that much.

But it was swift and slight, and then she was wrapped around him, and he was fully inside her, and all her sensations were magnified.

He started to move, and pulsing desire washed over her.

She tipped her head back, exposing her neck, instinctively angling her hips.

He kissed her tender skin, while his rhythm stabilized then accelerated, and her limbs wrapped fully around him.

He pushed a pillow beneath the small of her back, and the earth shifted to where they were joined.

He sped up, thrusting harder. His muscles tightened. His kisses grew deeper and more frantic.

He groaned deeply against her lips. “I’m sorry.”

Then his hand went between them, touching her intimately. Stars exploded inside her head, melting down in the black desert sky. Her muscles contracted and unheard-of pleasure ricocheted to every corner of her body.

She struggled to catch her breath.

Tariq was heavy, their bodies slick everywhere they touched. But she didn’t want him to move.

No wonder he’d been impatient.

Why hadn’t somebody told her?

Why had they scared her?

Tariq slowly lifted his head, smoothing back her dark hair, tenderly kissing her swollen mouth.

“Is it always like that?” she managed.

A low rumble of laughter moved through his chest. “It’s never like that.”

As her heart thudded deep, over the curve of his scarred shoulder, she caught a glimpse of the Gold Heart statue. The Royal Han marble was a rich glow in the moonlight. The woman still smiled. But Laila could swear the smile had changed from serene to satisfied.

Exquisite Acquisitions

Carter backed her up against the wall.

He murmured all the things they were going to do in this room, and Macy’s face flamed as hot as her body burned. The dress was an easy target for a man with roaming hands, and Carter made sure he touched every part of her. His sweet assault made her moan his name over and over, and she knew they’d never make it to the bed.

As his kisses moved down her throat she arched for him and closed her eyes to the sensual sensation.

He stopped for a moment and she slumped against him, breathless.

“Is…that…all…you…got?”

A deep, satisfied chuckle rumbled from his throat before he lifted her into the circle of his arms and carried her to the bed. “Just wait, sweet darlin’. Just wait.”

About the Author

Award-winning author CHARLENE SANDS writes bold, passionate, heart-stopping heroes and always…really good men! She’s a lover of all things romantic, having married her high school sweetheart, Don. She is the proud recipient of a Readers’ Choice Award, and double recipient of a Booksellers’ Best Award, having written twenty-eight romances to date, both contemporary and historical Western. Charlene is a member of Romance Writers of America and belongs to the Orange County and Los Angeles chapters of RWA, where she volunteers as the Published Authors’ Liaison.

When not writing, she loves movie dates with her hubby, playing cards with her children, reading romance, great coffee, Pacific beaches, country music and anything chocolate. She also loves to hear from her readers. You can reach Charlene for fun stuff, contests and more at www.charlenesands.com or write to her at PO Box 4883, West Hills, CA 91308, USA. You can find her on the Harlequin Authors Blog, and on Facebook, too.

In memory and honor of Sandra Hyatt, a friend and fellow Desire author.

I will always remember your sweet, friendly smile and your kind heart.

Prologue

Wild River Ranch, Texas

He struck a match on his boot heel and guided the flame toward the cigarette clenched between his lips. With one long pull of breath, the tip blazed to life. Carter McCay closed his eyes as images of the fallen soldiers who’d fought alongside him flashed in his mind. He took one drag…one honorary inhalation. The ritual was agreed upon by those lucky enough to have come home, all those years ago. On the first day of every month, each one of his comrades did the same. Somewhere out there, twenty-three former marines were lighting up and remembering Afghanistan.

The subtle rush of the river pulled him out of those thoughts. He leaned a shoulder against an ancient oak and nestled into the tree’s grooved bark, watching the rhythmic, nearly perfect ripples of Wild River. The water wasn’t as wild as its namesake today, Carter mused. It was quiet and peaceful here, shaded from the hot Texas sun.

The dog plopped down at his feet and whimpered long and loud as the trail of smoke met his upturned wet nose.

Carter pushed his Stetson higher on his forehead and looked into questioning, soulful eyes. He couldn’t blame the dog for being wary of smoke. The dog saw too much, knew too much. “You followed me up here, pal.”

Carter tossed the cigarette and crushed it into the ground with his boot, then lowered to a crouch beside the golden retriever. He gave him a pat on the head. The dog sandwiched his head between his front paws and gave a big sigh.

“Yeah, I know, boy. You’ve had it tough.” Carter ruffled Rocky’s furry neck, damn glad he’d rescued the hound from his father’s place. The home where Carter had grown up wasn’t fit for a dog.

His cell phone pinged. Carter pulled his iPhone from his back pocket and gave a quick look. A text message from Roark Waverly appeared on the front screen. He hadn’t heard from his former marine buddy in months. But he wasn’t surprised that he’d leave a message today of all days. “Probably just lit one up, too,” he muttered, glad to hear from his friend. But as he read on, Roark had something entirely different to say. Something Carter had to read twice.

C. Ran into some trouble. In hiding. Get word to Ann Richardson at Waverly’s. The Gold Heart statue is not stolen. I can’t trust Waverly’s networks. R.B.

Carter frowned. What the hell what that all about?

After his tour of duty, Roark had gotten heavily involved in running around seven continents procuring valuable artifacts to sell at Waverly’s auction house based out of New York. Roark had been in some tough binds through the years, and normally the marine could take care of himself just fine. Carter had been on the receiving end of his friend’s quick thinking when they’d been on street patrol in a small settlement in Afghanistan. Roark had discovered that the car Carter was about to inspect was booby trapped. He’d shoved Carter out of the way before his hand met with the door handle, and Carter knew then that he owed Roark his life.

“C’mon, Rocky,” he said, heading toward his Jeep without a glance back. He knew his father’s dog would follow. He was as loyal as they come. “I’ve got some investigating to do.”

Two hours later, his cousin Brady knocked on his front door and Carter led him into the great room. The room meant for entertaining was one of many improvements he’d made to the house after he’d inherited Wild River Ranch from his uncle Dale. Over the years and after a little luck and a lot of hard work, Carter had turned his uncle’s small working ranch into a stellar operation that competed equally with elite Texas cattle barons.

He handed Brady a shot glass of whiskey. “Here you go, cuz.”

Brady grinned. “I know it’s five o’clock somewhere, but tell me, why are we drinking this early in the afternoon?”

“Because thanks to you, I’m heading to New York tomorrow.”

“Me? What do Brady McCay and New York have in common?”

Carter couldn’t tell him about Roark’s cryptic text message. That message wasn’t meant to be discussed, not even with someone Carter trusted. But he could tell Brady the other reason for his trip. As he’d researched the New York auction house Roark worked for, he’d found that Hollywood screen legend Tina Tarlington’s diamond rings were being auctioned off this weekend. The famed Tarlington diamond had been in the press ever since Tina Tarlington’s first marriage, decades ago. Now, there was even more buzz about all three of her diamonds since the Queen of Cinema had passed away a few months ago. Carter planned to get his hands on one of those diamonds and, at the same time, deliver Roark’s message to the CEO of Waverly’s.

“You’re the one who introduced me to Jocelyn, right?” Carter asked.

“I can’t deny that. I sure did.”

“She’s in New York right now, visiting a friend.”

His cousin’s eyebrows narrowed. “I’m not following.”

“I intend to join her there and ask her to marry me.”

Brady blinked and jerked back in surprise. “You intend to marry Jocelyn Grayson? I didn’t realize things were that serious between you two.”

“Damn straight they are. I’ve been hunting for the right engagement ring for weeks now. If all goes as planned, she’ll be my fiancée very soon.”

“You’re really in love with Jocelyn?” There was a note of disbelief in Brady’s voice.

Carter had to admit he was moving a little fast. But from the day he’d been introduced to the granddaughter of Brady’s neighbor, Carter had been smitten. Now, less than a year later, Carter was ready to make a commitment. Putting a Tarlington ring on Jocelyn’s finger would be impressive, even to an oil heiress who came from old Dallas money. She’d know, without a doubt, how much she meant to him. “She’s the one for me, Brady.”

“Well, then. Congratulations,” Brady offered.

Carter lifted his shot glass. Now that he’d made up his mind, he couldn’t wait to see Jocelyn’s expression when he proposed to her with a Tarlington diamond. “To Jocelyn.”

Brady hesitated for a second and stared into Carter’s eyes before lifting his glass, as well. “To Jocelyn.”

And after they downed the liquor, the smile Carter expected to see on his cousin’s face never really emerged.

One

Macy Tarlington never knew whether her attempt at disguise would work or not. Today, the beige scarf covering her ink-black curls and dark sunglasses hiding her violet-blue eyes seemed to do the trick. She hadn’t been followed. Thank goodness. She looked a little too much like her mother, which wasn’t overall a bad thing. Her mother had been known for her beauty, but resembling Hollywood’s beloved Queen of Cinema had drawn paparazzi to Macy like bees to honey. They believed her DNA alone gave them the right to trample on her privacy, especially during her time of mourning.

Tina Tarlington might have been world famous and her fans might have believed they knew everything about her, from her award-winning movie roles and her three doomed marriages to her celebrity status, but they hadn’t really known her. Not the way Macy had.

Walking into New York’s opulent Madison Avenue auction house made her twitch with anxiety. She bumped shoulders with her good friend, Avery Cullen, as they approached the Waverly salesroom. Avery was the least likely sort of American heiress, very unassuming and certainly not a spoiled cliché. “Sorry if I’m crowding you,” she whispered. “I can’t seem to help it.”

Avery’s warm smile reassured her as she took Macy’s arm. Her friend’s steady touch soothed her jumpy nerves. “I don’t mind, Macy. That’s why I’m here, for support.”

With eyes well hidden beneath sunglasses, Macy was free to dart glances all around, scoping out the large, elegantly appointed room where Tina Tarlington’s prized possessions would be auctioned off. Beautifully tufted, rounded high-back chairs were lined up in a dozen rows, split in the center by an aisle. The surrounding walls were easy-on-the-eye tones of beiges and light peach. Wide white wainscoting centered the walls and wrapped around the perimeter of the room. Multifaceted crystal chandeliers twinkled and provided abundant light overhead.

“I can’t thank you enough for enduring this with me.” Avery had made a quick trip from her home in London to be with her today.

“I know how hard this is for you.”

“Hard and necessary, unfortunately. Having my mother’s things on display like this gives me a stomachache. Oh, I am so not looking forward to this.”

Avery gave Macy’s hand a squeeze as they pressed farther into the room. “Those two seats on the aisle in the back are ours,” Macy whispered. “I made arrangements beforehand for us.”

And as they headed to those seats, Macy noticed that every other chair in the room was taken. Even in death, Tina Tarlington drew large crowds.

An attendant came by immediately to hand them a catalogue listing the items being auctioned off, and after a brief conversation Macy nodded her thanks to the woman standing at the head of the room. Ann Richardson, the CEO of Waverly’s, who had secured the estate sale from Macy, gave her a silent greeting in return before turning to shake hands with the patrons in the front row. It was important to Ms. Richardson that the Tarlington auction go off without a hitch. Waverly’s stood to make a hefty commission.

Macy opened the catalogue and flipped through the pages, noting item after item from her mother’s estate. The descriptions were listed as lot numbers along with an estimate as to their value. The first item stopped her cold as memories flooded in and tears formed in her eyes.

On Macy’s tenth birthday, just as the celebration was about to begin, Tina had rushed into the Magic Castle Mansion, an exclusive club showcasing musicians from around the world, dressed as Eleanor Neal, the role which had garnered her an Academy Award nomination. She’d come straight from the set, the shoot going longer than anticipated. Macy hadn’t cared that her mother was late for her party or that she’d come in her professional makeup and wardrobe. She’d flown into her mother’s arms and hugged her so tight that Tina laughed until her mascara had run down her face. It was magic and one of the best birthdays of Macy’s life.

Now, the pink silk and sequin dress her mother had worn that day was described as “Worn by Tina Tarlington in the acclaimed film Quest for Vengeance, 1996.”

Her mother’s entire life seemed to have been whittled down to one-sentence blurbs and numbers. The ache in Macy’s stomach intensified.

Discreetly, she closed the catalogue booklet and took a deep breath. She couldn’t fall apart. Not now. She had to go through with this auction. She gave herself a little pep talk, reciting in her head all the practical reasons why selling her mother’s treasures and jewels were necessary.

As she surveyed the room, people-watching, waiting for the auction to begin, she found the distraction she needed in a Stetson-wearing hunk of a man sitting across the aisle from her and one row up. His head was down, concentrating on the catalogue. The cowboy wore a crisp white shirt underneath a stylish Western suit coat that accentuated the solid breadth of his shoulders. The glint of silver from his bolo tie twinkled under the chandeliers. His profile was strong, grooved with a razor-sharp cheekbone and an angular jaw. He swung his head around and glanced at her for a split second, as if he suspected her of watching him. She panicked for an instant and held her breath. Luckily, he hadn’t lingered but went on to scan the rest of the room.

But oh my! When he’d turned, she’d gotten the full impact of his gaze and found him even more appealing than she’d originally thought. A crazy jolt of warmth surged through her body. The powerful sensation was new to Macy.

Butterflies replaced the turmoil in her stomach.

How strange.

She continued to grab eyefuls, shifting her gaze away occasionally to avoid being caught. She was grateful for her little disguise. It provided her freedom to peruse something more exciting than the auction.

The cowboy glanced over the seated bidders and up toward the podium time and again. He appeared anxious and impatient for the auction to begin.

A minute later, Ann Richardson took the podium with a welcome to everyone at the auction. After a cordial greeting, the CEO turned the microphone over to the auctioneer and he stepped up to the podium. The auction began and Macy watched as, one by one, bidders raised their paddles when the first gown was offered up.

Dear, sweet Avery sat vigilantly beside her, a pillar of quiet strength. When the auctioneer’s hammer fell, finalizing the winning bid, Avery squeezed her hand and whispered into her ear. “Just remember, your mother would want you to do this.”

Macy nodded and slid her eyes closed briefly. It was true. Her mother had loved her possessions, and heaven knew, she had not been good with money. But her mother had made a point of always making sure Macy had known that she, not her profession or her jewels, was the most important, most beloved thing in her life. Misguided as her mother’s life might have been, Macy knew she’d been loved. When her father, Clyde Tarlington, had died ten years ago, Tina might have given up, but she’d shown Macy what it was to be a survivor. To press on, even under adversity.

Once again, Macy glanced at her handsome cowboy, sitting patiently across the aisle. He’d taken off his hat, out of consideration to the people seated behind him, she presumed, as soon as the bidding had begun. His dark blond hair was well-groomed, thick and curling at the edge of his collar. The Stetson rested on his outstretched leg and Macy reeled in her wayward thoughts, thinking if she could only trade places with that hat.

The corners of her lips lifted at the idea. And Macy’s foolish heart skipped a beat.

His face was becoming familiar to her. He was a good diversion, a distraction that she couldn’t seem to shake. She was drawn to him, and she couldn’t figure out why. She lived in Hollywood, where gorgeous men were a dime a dozen. She’d acted in small movie roles opposite men more beautiful than any female starlet.

No, it wasn’t his looks that drew her to him. It was something else. He held himself with an air of confidence that belied his obvious discomfort seated in a venerable New York auction house.

She liked that about him.

For all she knew, he’d be more comfortable bidding on longhorn steers.

She liked that about him, too.

Another mental chuckle emerged. She had to stop fantasizing about him. Macy returned her attention to the auction, grateful to the cowboy for giving her something thrilling to admire while her mother’s life was being bartered away.

Soon the diamond rings would be up for sale.

Macy cringed and slithered down in her seat. She actually felt sorry for the people who wound up with them.

Three diamond rings. Three doomed marriages.

“The rings are cursed,” she whispered to Avery.

Her friend nodded ever so slightly. “Then you should be glad to get rid of them.”

Oh, she was. She was extremely glad. Those rings represented pain and heartache to anyone in their possession. The love surrounding those rings would never survive. Her mother’s three failed marriages were testimony enough. Each one Of her marriages had been horrific in their own way, and Macy had begun thinking of the diamond rings as the Love Curse Diamonds. Of course, it wasn’t a good idea to tell that to the press. She needed the money too badly to risk lowering their value. But there were stories behind those diamonds and, unfortunately, Macy knew them all too well.

The bidding was to begin on the three-carat diamond that Clyde Tarlington had given to her mother. The setting was unique, a one of a kind. The nearly perfect gem had been placed in such a way that it formed a T with surrounding smaller diamonds nestled beside it to finish forming the letter. It was by far the most exquisite ring of the trio.

Avery nudged her shoulder and Macy, deep in thought, slid her friend a sideways glance. “Take a look.” She gestured across the aisle. “That gorgeous cowboy you’ve been eyeing all afternoon is getting ready. I bet he bids on the Tarlington diamond.”

Carter wanted that Tarlington diamond so bad he could taste it. He’d spend a small fortune on it, if it boiled down to that. He groaned with impatience.

The stately woman sitting next to him, her nose in the air, reacted to the sound he made with a high and mighty puff. Then her gaze shifted to the felt hat sitting on his lap. She gave him another sniff of disapproval.

Well, hell. He’d offended her.

Because he was in a good mood, being nearly engaged and all, he sent her a smile of apology.

The woman gripped her purse with thin wiry fingers and inched away from him without returning his smile. She didn’t bother to disguise her feelings. He didn’t fit in. She didn’t approve of him being here.

He couldn’t fault her for that thinking. He didn’t fit in here. He didn’t like crowds, tight spaces or the irritating roar of New York traffic. But he had two darn good reasons for attending the auction.

The engagement ring he was determined to buy and the friend he was determined to help.

Both were important and could be life altering.

An article he’d read in the New York Times this morning about possible collusion between Waverly’s and their rival auction house, Rothchild’s, flashed into his mind. the piece had put the Waverly establishment in a bad light.

Doubt as to whether he should sink any money into the auction at all had crossed his mind and old survival instincts had clicked in. Carter was known for making sound financial decisions, and if it were anyone else, he would’ve walked away from the auction. But his friend Roark was a straight shooter. If Roark trusted Ann Richardson and Waverly’s, that was good enough for Carter. It was as simple as that.

The CEO sat up front but off to the side, overseeing the auction. He’d kept a keen eye on her since the auction began and wouldn’t let her out of his sight. He couldn’t get near her before, but he wasn’t leaving until he’d delivered the message from Roark.

Before the auction began, Ann Richardson had given a tidy welcome speech to the patrons, reminding them about Waverly’s honest and reputable dealings for over one hundred and fifty years. Her way of dispelling the rumors tarnishing today’s auction. Anticipation stirred in his gut, and the reality of what he was about to do struck him. After thirty-one years of bachelorhood, he was ready to propose marriage and settle down with a woman.

Finally, the auctioneer announced the famous gem. “The Tarlington emerald-cut diamond ring is three carats in weight, with VS1 clarity and D color with six surrounding baquette diamonds weighing a total of one point four carats. We’ll start the bidding at fifty thousand dollars.”

Carter raised his paddle and made the first bid.

Three other paddles went up after his.

And by the time he lifted his paddle again, the bid had increased to seventy thousand dollars. The room got extremely quiet. Only the slight rustle of clothes and an intermittent cough echoed in the large room. As far as he could tell, there were four bidders, and all of them were actively bidding as the price of the Tarlington diamond doubled.

He lifted his paddle again.

Two of the other bidders dropped off and Carter found himself in a one-on-one duel.

It was between him and someone he couldn’t quite make out from a row closer to the front of the room. The mysterious bidder wasn’t giving up.

When the bid doubled again, Carter retired his paddle. It was clear that his opponent had unlimited means and wanted that diamond ring no matter the cost. Carter had too much business sense to pay more than twice what the darn thing was actually worth. He’d already overbid. When the hammer fell and the bid was won, he lifted up a fraction from his chair and craned his neck to find out who had outbid him. A young woman wearing an austere business suit and a satisfied smile had nodded to the auctioneer.

Carter frowned. He hated losing.

The next diamond presented was a ring of less iconic value than the Tarlington diamond, but with two nearly perfect carats of dazzle in a platinum setting, given to the legendary star by her third husband, Joseph Madigan. Carter wouldn’t be outbid again.

“Going once. Going twice. Fair warning, this lot is about to be sold.” A second ticked by in silence. Then the gavel hit the podium. “Sold!”

Satisfaction curled in Carter’s belly. The diamond ring was his. He’d flown across the continent for an engagement ring to impress Jocelyn, and tomorrow night he’d be dishing it up on a silver platter.

Once the auction concluded, Carter made fast work of securing the diamond ring, along with the certificate of sale. He caught Ann Richardson as she was leaving the salesroom. “Ms. Richardson?”

The tall willowy blonde turned and surprised Carter at how young she appeared up close. She blinked. “Yes?”

“Pardon me, ma’am. But I need to speak to you privately.”

“Is there a problem with the sale? You won the bid on a stunning ring.”

“No, I’m happy with the ring.”

“I’m glad. I hope it brings you enjoyment.” She eyed him carefully.

“It will.” Carter smiled. “I plan on proposing marriage to my girl tomorrow.”

The caution in her expression softened. “Oh, well, congratulations, Mr.?”

“Carter McCay.”

She put out her hand and Carter gave a light shake. “I have no connection to the press, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Her eyes widened. Then a guilty smile emerged as if she’d been caught red-handed. “I won’t deny it crossed my mind,” she muttered with a sigh. She glanced around, noting the patrons filing out of the room. She lowered her voice. “They can be brutal.”

Carter nodded. “Is there someplace we can talk privately? It’s about Roark Black.”

Ann’s perfect brows lifted as if that was the last thing she’d expected to hear. Concern mixed with curiosity, and she immediately began walking toward a private exit. “Follow me.”

Her shiny black heels tapped across a stone hallway. Carter fell in step beside her, and it wasn’t long before she ducked into a small office marked Private. She waited until he entered before closing the door. The room was windowless and dark. She flipped a switch and overhead fluorescents brought light into the office. She leaned against a large glass desk and folded her arms. “What about Roark? Is he all right?”

“I hope so. He’s a friend. We go way back. I met him while on duty in Afghanistan. A couple days ago, I got a text from him with your name on it.”

“My name?” She leaned toward him, surprised. She pushed shoulder-length hair behind her ears and took a breath. “Where’s the message?”

Carter pulled out his phone and tapped the screen a few times until the cryptic message appeared. He moved beside her and handed her the phone. She stood there for a second, reading the passage a few times. “He says he doesn’t trust anyone with this information but me. And he’s in hiding somewhere.” She looked into his eyes. “What’s he gotten himself into?”

“I have no idea. He mentioned a statue. Do you know what that’s about?”

She nodded slowly, rereading the message. “It’s the Gold Heart statue. There are only three in existence. He might have stumbled upon something he shouldn’t have.” Ann turned to him again. “He could be in real danger.”

Carter held her stare a moment. “He could be.”

Troubled, she sighed quietly and handed back the phone. “He’s a good man.”

Carter nodded. “Listen, I know Roark. He’s gotten himself into some really tight spots before, and he’s always gotten out.”

Her voice was a mere whisper. “Are you telling me not to worry?”

Carter was concerned his friend was in trouble, but he couldn’t do a damn thing about it until he heard from him again. “No sense in worrying. I have faith in him. Roark knows what he’s doing. But whatever it is, he sure as hell wanted me to get this message to you without going through the normal channels. He’s not sure who he can trust.”

“I understand. Thank you for going through the trouble. Will you promise to let me know if you hear anything more from him?”

“I can do that,” Carter said.

“Thank you.” She walked him to the door. “And congratulations on your engagement. I think any woman would love to have a Tarlington ring on her finger.”

Carter grinned. “That’s the plan.”

She gave him a full-out dimple-inducing smile, and Carter figured she didn’t offer those up too often. “I think your soon-to-be fiancée is a lucky woman.”

Carter thanked her and left Waverly’s with a diamond ring in his pocket and a hum in his heart. He’d accomplished his two goals today.

Tomorrow his life would change forever.

Pajama-clad, Macy stared at her reflection in the hotel mirror, the phone to her ear and her legs stretched out on the massive bed. She never liked reserving a room with a king bed. With her slight frame, too much of the mattress went to waste. But then, getting two doubles made her feel lonely, as if there was someone missing who should be sleeping in the other bed. Macy had offered to share her hotel room with Avery, but her friend had booked with a smaller, more secluded hotel. Macy had respected her privacy.

“Are you still thinking about that cowboy from the auction today?” Avery asked.

She smiled into the phone. The cowboy? Now, he would take up a good portion of her bed and nothing would go to waste. “Guilty as charged. But you can’t blame me, can you? My love life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. If I only had one-tenth of the lovers MovieMash.com claimed I had, it would be a miracle. I haven’t been on a date for eight months. That qualifies me for that new reality show, Dating Dilemma.”

“Oh, Macy. It only means you’ve been dealing with your mother’s illness and grieving. You’ll know when the time is right.”

Avery, too, had recently lost a parent, a father she’d hardly known, so she could relate to the heartache Macy felt. Avery had been such a dear friend when Tina died. They’d shared the bond of loss together.

“You had the hots for the cowboy. That’s a start,” Avery encouraged.

With a sigh, Macy glanced in the mirror again and shook her head at the simple yellow-and-white flowered nightgown she wore. She made a mental note to buy sexy lingerie. “That’s true.”

There was something about the cowboy that called to Macy. She’d been smitten from the moment she’d spotted him. Smit ten. Such a perfect word to describe her feelings for a mystery man who’d helped her get through a tough time today. Not that he’d ever know he’d helped her, but still, Macy had warm feelings for him that went beyond the physical.

“The poor guy,” she said quietly. “He bought the cursed diamond. I overheard him saying he was getting engaged tomorrow.”

“How did you hear that?”

“I have eagle ears, remember? Just as we were walking out of the auction, I heard him tell Ms. Richardson why he bought the ring. I was crushed.”

Avery giggled. She thought Macy was kidding, and why wouldn’t she? Any normal person wouldn’t develop strong feelings for a man she’d just laid eyes on. But Macy couldn’t really share the truth, that as soon as the cowboy announced he was getting engaged, her heart sank and her stomach clenched. The disappointment overwhelmed her. It had hurt Macy to think that her fantasy cowboy was already taken, and now hours later she still couldn’t wrap her head around it. “He hasn’t proposed yet and his marriage is already doomed.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” her friend said. “Wouldn’t you like to think it’s not the diamond rings but really some odd quirk of nature, an imbalance of romance or simply a weird coincidence that those three marriages ended with heartbreak?”

“I don’t know, Av. Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s not the rings. Maybe I just don’t believe in love anymore. I mean, my mother and all of her close friends have had their hearts broken from love affairs. You know how much my mother loved my father. When he died in that crash, she’d been so angry with him for leaving her alone.”

Clyde Tarlington had been a talented actor in his own right and a loving father to Macy, but gambling and liquor were his true loves. He’d been addicted to both. When he won big, he’d buy rounds of drinks for everyone, and unfortunately one night ten years ago, his big win meant losing the most important gamble of his life. He’d gotten behind the wheel of his car and plowed the front end of his Lamborghini into a tree just three blocks away from their home. His blood alcohol level had been double the legal limit. That night, his luck had run out.

“I know that was heartbreaking for her,” Avery said.

“But she picked herself up and married husband number two and then husband number three. And you know how well those marriages worked out.” Macy’s throat tightened with remorse. “That cowboy bought loser number three’s ring.”

Avery’s voice softened. “Macy, are you going to be okay? I can come over.”

“No, don’t be silly. It’s after midnight. I’m fine,” she fibbed.

Macy had financial woes that made her dizzy with dismay. Avery knew most of it, so there was no sense rehashing her legal problems. She was being sued for refusing to back down on her principles. And now she was paying the consequences, literally, with her mother’s estate. She had an appointment with her New York attorney tomorrow that she wasn’t looking forward to. “I appreciate you being my rock today. I leaned on you and you came through.” She faked a yawn and made it noisy enough for Avery to hear. “I’m pooped. I’m going to climb into this big bed and get some sleep.”

“Okay…if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. I’ll see you for dinner tomorrow before your flight. Have a good night.”

“Same to you, Macy. Sleep tight.”

“I intend to,” she fibbed again.

She wouldn’t get much sleep. Her troubles would follow her into the night.

Carter sat across the table from Jocelyn in a cozy corner in the Russian Tea Room, the muscles around his lips pulling tight. He stared at her with unblinking eyes. The setting, the diamond, everything was perfect. Except her answer. “No?”

“That’s right,” she whispered. “No, I won’t marry you.”

With a shake of his head, he leaned back in his seat in disbelief.

Jocelyn flipped her blond hair to one side, a habit he’d noticed her doing when she was annoyed. The long strands fell over the thin strap of her glimmering gold dress. Her full lips, glossed in cherry red, formed a pout. Then she sighed dramatically, as if the weight of the world was crushing her shoulders. “I thought you knew this thing between us wasn’t serious.”

He kept his tone level. “How was I to know that?”

“We’ve never spoken of the future,” she said. Her eyes flashed to the opened velvet box he’d laid near the edge of the table. “Not in specific terms.”

Carter’s voice elevated. “You mean, when we were lying in bed at night and you’d say how much you wanted a family one day. Three kids, exactly. And when you said you wanted a second home in the Hamptons, those were just random ramblings?”

He had trouble believing her rejection and searched his memory for clues. How had he missed her signals? He thought they wanted the same things in life.

She ignored the question, speaking in a tight voice, “We haven’t known each other long, Carter.”

“A year isn’t long enough?”

“Not with you living in Wild River and me living in Dallas. We haven’t seen that much of each other.”

Raw, ego-deflating pain gutted his insides. The flat-out rejection worked a number on his pride and made him look at Jocelyn in a new light. One that wasn’t flattering. A steady tick began to eat away at his jaw.

“The ring is a stunner, really.” The diamond that would never see her finger sparkled against incandescent candlelight. “But I can’t accept it.” She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t love you.”

In one fell swoop, he gripped the plush black ring box and clicked it shut before shoving it into his pocket. He didn’t want to look at the damn thing anymore. “Can’t be clearer than that.”

“Well, I’m…sorry.”

She didn’t sound all that sorry.

“Hell, your apology fixes everything. I suppose you want to be friends now?”

His ego was taking a big hit, but his heart hurt, too. He’d wrapped his future dreams around spending his life with Jocelyn. How had he gone so wrong? He’d known Jocelyn was a high-maintenance woman, but he figured he could make her happy. Now, he felt like a sap.

Her chin angled up, and when she spoke it was as if she were speaking to a dog that should obey. “Don’t be mad, Carter.”

Was she kidding? Anger was only one of the emotions torpedoing his belly. “Don’t tell me how to feel, Jocelyn. Even you’ve got to realize this is a blow to me.”

“You had it wrong. You made a lot of assumptions about our relationship.”

“I made…” Carter kept his anger contained. He spoke quietly, through clenched teeth. “You tempted me into a relationship, in case you’re forgetting. From the first day we met, you were all over me. Remember the Wild River County Fair? You brushed your body up against mine so many times, I needed a dunk in the river to cool myself off. You came after me, as I recall. And we’ve been together ever since. So excuse me if I’m pissed off. Excuse me if I don’t understand.”

And what about all those nights she’d screamed his name and told him he was the best lover she’d ever had? Or the midnight rides they’d take on horseback at the ranch? Or the way she clung to his arm whenever they were out in public, as if he was the most important person in her life? Was it all an act?

“You don’t understand. I wasn’t after you.”

“Like hell you weren’t.”

“You really don’t get it. I thought I was transparent. Clear as glass.” She rose from the table, clutching her small beaded purse. She shot him an unflinching gaze. “I’m in love with Brady. I was trying to make him jealous.” She gestured with a swipe of her hand. “All of this was for Brady’s sake.”

Carter sank back into his seat, his eyebrows denting his forehead. He hadn’t seen this coming. “My cousin?”

Carter had met Jocelyn one day when she was visiting her grandmother, Brady’s neighbor. She’d come by Brady’s place and the three of them, Brady, Carter and Jocelyn, had driven out to the county fair.

He stood abruptly and towered over her, pinning her with a glare. A bitter taste formed in his mouth. “So all this time, you were trying to make Brady jealous? How’s that working out for you?”

She stiffened and her gaze narrowed to two eye-lined slits. “Shut up.”

She made a move to pass by him, to escape his wrath, but he wasn’t through with her yet. He took hold of her arm, garnering her full attention. “You played me for a fool.”

She straightened her stance, holding her head high, like a member of royalty. “You are a fool. You’re a dumb stupid hick who let me string him along.”

His teeth ground together and his words came out low, from deep in his gut. “I’ll make sure to tell Brady you said that. Being as we’re related, that means he’s a dumb stupid hick, too. He was right about you. Yeah, the dumb stupid hick doesn’t think too highly of you. And this time, I’m not disagreeing.”

She flinched. His victory was small consolation, and while he knew better than to speak that way to a woman, he couldn’t stop himself because her indiscretion had been much worse.

He released her at the same moment she yanked her arm free. “Leave.”

She did. She walked away, and Carter didn’t bother to watch her exit. He headed for the bar, unnerved and feeling like hell. He needed to soak his sorrows with a double shot of whiskey. Jocelyn wasn’t the woman he thought she was. She’d been using him all along. Yeah, but he had to admit, she had him good and fooled.

No woman would ever fool him again, and after his liquor arrived, Carter downed the drink in celebration of escaping the hangman’s noose.

Thirty minutes later and fortified with the best whiskey money could buy, Carter stepped out of the restaurant and was hit with a blast of humid August night air. It was the only thing about New York that reminded him of Texas—cloistering humidity. The heat crept up his collar and made him sweat.

All of a sudden a crowd emerged, swarming a woman who was trying to enter the restaurant. Bulbs flashed, the rush of footsteps sounded on pavement, shouted questions flew through the air. More than a dozen paparazzi crammed her as she made a feeble attempt to push her way out. Her shoulder was bumped once, twice. She swiveled right, then left, trying to break away. Questions were leveled at her like grenades. When her eyes met his, in that brief moment, Carter saw a caged animal struggling to get free. She was trapped.

Recognition struck him smack between the eyes. She was the woman he’d glimpsed at the auction yesterday.

Someone yanked at the scarf hiding her jet-black hair. Long, luxurious curls spilled down her shoulder, and she reached behind her head to put the scarf back in place. Carter had seen enough. He muscled his way through the crowd, giving a few well-placed shoves himself to get to her. When he finally faced her, he gripped both her hands in his, firm but gentle. She gazed at him with desperate, deep lavender-blue eyes. Carter had no time to dwell on her beautiful face. He blocked a cameraman’s shot with his body, and the Stetson riding low on his forehead lent another measure of concealment. Use everything in your arsenal, he’d learned in the marines.

He leaned in real close. “I can get you out of here. But you have to trust me.”

Two

Fraught with panic, Macy faced the man from the auction, certain she was hallucinating. It couldn’t be him. She’d dreamed about him last night, and this morning, when she should have forgotten all about him, he’d still marched into her thoughts during quiet moments.

Shouted barbs, flashbulbs snapping and body heat from tabloid junkies brought her back to the here and now.

“Got yourself a cowboy,” shouted a photographer from the back of the pack.

“Are you doing nude scenes with him, Macy?” another asked.

The vultures chuckled.

It angered her that they called her by her first name, as if they were her friends, when the question itself was rude enough to warrant enemy status. Tina knew how to handle the paparazzi. Macy did not. And she paid the price for not being as charming as her famous mother had been.

Her heart pounding, her body abused and her head clouded with uncertainty, Macy glanced down to find her tightly wound fists encased in strong, protective hands. When she gazed up into the cowboy’s eyes, he reassured her with a nod. His words had been like velvet to her ears.

Trust me.

She did.

Someone bumped her from behind, and the cowboy’s gaze grew fierce, giving the photographer ample warning. “Back off.”

Then he met her stare again. “You coming?” His voice was a little more insistent this time.

Macy didn’t have to think twice. She was out of options. The crowd herding her had become more curious now that the cowboy had intervened on her behalf, peppering her with questions as to who he was.

She honestly didn’t know.

But she was about to find out.

She nodded, and he gave her a fast smile. “Let’s go.”

The cowboy’s grip was steady on her hand as they took off at a run. Mentally she cursed the Paciotti pumps slowing her down. She struggled to keep pace with his strides.

“Don’t look back,” he ordered. He guided her down an alleyway, dodging garbage cans. She ran on the pads of her feet to keep from stumbling on three-inch heels. her scarf flew off her head, clinging on by the knot at her throat. The material whipped at her shoulders. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her nerves rattled as the cowboy led her away from the tabloid hounds dogging her.

The sound of labored breaths and footsteps shuffling from behind dropped off a little at a time as they hurried along the narrow alley. It wasn’t a herd following them anymore, just several hangers-on. Those few were persistent, and the cowboy tightened his hold on her hand when they reached the end of the alley. He took half a second to glance both ways on the side street before gesturing to the right. “There.”

She followed him, running quickly to a shiny black Lincoln Town Car. “Get in and we’ll be off.” She glanced behind her to see four photographers snapping pictures at the base of the alleyway.

Her savior opened the back door for her, surprising the chauffeur, who was eating a burrito in the front seat. She climbed inside and slid over. He joined her a second later. “Give it some gas, Larry. And be quick.”

“Yes, sir.” The chauffeur tossed his food down and fumbled for a second, obviously caught off guard. Then the engine revved to life. Before the paparazzi got within twenty feet, they had pulled out, Larry driving as fast as traffic allowed.

“Wow.” Macy leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. The past twenty minutes were a blur. One second she was on her way to meet Avery for dinner, and the next she was being pursued by overly zealous tabloid maniacs.

She tried to slow her breathing, but then there was the Stetson-wearing cowboy to think about. From the moment she’d laid eyes on him, he’d thrown her off balance.

She turned to face him and caught a whiff of his musky cologne. The scent was a turn-on in its own right, but on him, now that was really something. She’d already put him in white knight status; he didn’t need any more help. “I don’t usually accept rides from strangers,” she offered, clearing the air.

He chuckled and deep twin dimples appeared, softening the sharp planes of his face. Okay, this was just not funny anymore.

“But you made an exception for me?”

“I knew I could trust you. I saw you yesterday at the, uh, the auction. I was there, too.”

He gave her an appraising stare. “I know.”

“You know me?”

“No, can’t say that I do. But I noticed you. You were trying your best not to look conspicuous. Guess the designer sunglasses and scarf gave you away. It’s kind of hard not to notice a beautiful woman covering herself all up. Not that I blame you for trying to disguise yourself.” He gestured with a tilt of his head to the direction they’d just come from. “Does that happen to you often?”

He thought she was beautiful, even under the disguise. “Lately, yes…unfortunately.”

They were traveling down the street, and Macy had no idea where they were headed. All she saw behind him through the window was a flash of streetlights and neon signs.

He took care with removing his hat and laid it between them. He continued to watch her. Normally she’d squirm under the heat of a stranger’s stare, but oddly all she felt was excitement, as if she was living out her fantasy. She still couldn’t believe she was in his car, driving toward who knows what.

Then she reined in those thoughts. He was engaged. Or going to be soon. Her fantasy was over. “I’m Macy Tarlington.”

His eyes flickered with recognition. “Tarlington?”

His recognition wasn’t aimed at her. He didn’t know who she was. It was the Tarlington name that turned heads in every civilized country around the world. Apparently, the cowboy had never seen any of the work Macy had done on film. She wasn’t a star by any rights, but most people in the know would recognize her on the street. “My mother was Tina Tarlington.”

“I’ll be damned.” He shot her a charming smile then put out his hand. The large capable hand she’d already held. “Carter McCay. I’m from Wild River, Texas.”

Of course, he was a Texan. With that charming accent, where else could he be from? “Hollyweird, California.”

His lips quirked up and they sat staring at each other, their hands entwined in a slow shake.

Macy would’ve lost her footing if she’d been standing from the way he watched her. “I want to thank you. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten away from them if you weren’t there.”

He finally released her hand, and she was momentarily at a loss. “Appeared that way to me, too.”

“You saved me,” she said, still awestruck.

“You needed saving.”

Macy held in a sigh. His fiancée was a lucky woman. “Are you in the habit of saving women, or am I the only one?”

“I’m not in the business of saving anyone anymore.”

“Meaning you once were?”

“Once, a long time ago.” The city lights reflected in his eyes as his gaze shifted out the window. “I was a marine.”

“Ah, that explains your call to duty.”

His gaze snapped back to hers.

“I mean, isn’t that wh-what you do?” Oh boy, she didn’t want to insult the man who’d saved her. She found herself fumbling with an explanation. “The first to go in when there’s a crisis.”

His lips twitched as if he found her amusing. “I’m a Texan. We don’t like seeing women being manhandled. Marine or not, any man worth his salt would have done the same. “

Macy decided she liked a man who used the phrase worth his salt. “No matter the reason, I’m appreciative.”

“Why were those bozos so dang persistent anyway?”

The dreaded question.

Macy darted a glance out the window. “I suppose they think they’re justified.”

His lips tightened. “Nothing justifies shoving a defenseless woman and sticking cameras in her face.”

“If you knew me better, you’d know I’m not exactly defenseless,” Macy quipped. “I was caught off guard. Usually I’m more prepared.”

“Can’t imagine living like that.”

“It’s worse now. My mother’s death put the spotlight on me.” She tried to pass off her troubles with a shrug. “I’m the center of some controversy.”

His gaze remained on her, searching, waiting. But Macy held back. Though her recent episodes had been all over entertainment news when she’d walked out on two separate productions, trying to explain them to a stranger would be awkward. Thankfully, her lawsuits related to those incidents, weren’t public knowledge yet.

She didn’t answer the question in Carter’s eyes.

“So, why the auction?” he asked. “Your mother was…”

“Broke. She wasn’t good with money and she loved beautiful things.”

His eyes widened, as if she’d told a telling tale. “You want a drink? All I have is champagne.”

The bottle of Dom was sitting in a sterling-silver bucket in the center back of the town car. He picked it up along with two crystal flutes and poured them each a glass. She accepted one and glanced out the window again, noting the city lights fading, fast becoming a distant memory.

“By the way,” she whispered, taking a sip of the bubbly. “Where are you taking me?”

Wind blew her hair off her shoulders. The cool breeze refreshed her mind and rejuvenated her body. She stood on the deck of a private yacht watching the glorious Manhattan skyline. To think, if Avery hadn’t canceled their dinner date right before she’d arrived at the restaurant, and if Macy hadn’t gotten out of her cab to walk the two blocks to her favorite sushi place, her evening would have been a lonely night of salmon sashimi and wasabi.

The term too good to be true was overrated, except when it came to Carter McCay. He’d been a perfect gentleman, offering to take her back to her hotel.

“What’s my other option?” she’d asked.

And now, she was sailing the Hudson River with her handsome cowboy. She’d had a million questions for him while in the limo, but she’d refrained from asking. She wanted to pretend for a little while longer that all was right with the world while trying to forget the mob scene that would have taken her wits if Carter hadn’t rescued her.

She was being reckless for a change, driven by her coping mechanisms not to overanalyze everything. She was going with the flow. As her mother used to do.

Carter leaned his elbows against the railing next to her. She smiled at him. The “flow” was pretty darn great from her stance. His presence made her stomach flutter, but at the same time, she felt safe with him. She trusted him. And for a girl who’d grown up with the Hollywood scene, trust didn’t come easy.

“This is nice, Carter. It’s so peaceful out on the water.”

He inhaled deep and nodded. “That was the plan.”

“But the plan wasn’t for me, of course.”

“True. Did you notice what I bought at your mother’s auction yesterday?”

“I noticed. You bought one of her diamond rings.”

“Yeah, and like a fool, I thought a Tarlington diamond would seal the deal. I proposed to my girl tonight.”

“Tonight?” Uh-oh.

He looked out to the water, focusing away from the city lights to the darkness. “Yeah. Right before I met you. She turned me down flat and pretty much made a fool out of me. Seems she was using me to get the attention of my…Of someone else.”

Was that woman nuts? “Oh wow. That’s pretty crappy.”

“Nothing pretty about it.”

“It’s so wrong.”

“Wrong,” he repeated with a nod.

“Why, it’s dreadful and appalling. Depraved.”

“Hold on,” he said, putting up a hand. A soft chuckle rose from his throat. “You’re not making me feel any better.”

Macy grinned. “But I made you smile.”

He chuckled again. “Yeah, you did.”

His gaze flowed over her, his eyes sparkling with appreciation. “Thanks.”

Carter wasn’t someone to toss away like yesterday’s garbage. Macy realized that just from being with him for this short span of time.

That damn curse. She wished she’d stopped him from bidding on the ring. She wished he hadn’t gotten hurt by the rejection. If she hadn’t needed the money for attorney fees and to pay off her mother’s debts, she would have held on to the rings so no one else would have to endure the pain and suffering those diamonds brought on. And it became obvious to her that the limousine and the private yacht, stocked with champagne and aphrodisiacs, were meant for the newly engaged couple. She should have realized it from the beginning, but being with Carter made her fuzzy-brained.

“Seriously, I’m really sorry, Carter.”

He nodded and stared into her eyes. “You wanna know something? Meeting you tonight was just the dose of reality I needed. You helped me forget how gawd awful I felt walking out of that restaurant. You may have helped me just as much as I helped you.”

“I doubt that, but it’s nice of you to say.”

“It’s true, darlin’.” Carter faced the water again and blew out a deep breath. “Man, I’m ready to get on home to Wild River. It’s no secret I don’t like the city.”

“This city in particular?”

“New York especially, but I don’t like any place where skyscrapers block the sunsets. Where you can’t walk down a street without being crammed and bumped. I like wide open spaces. And we have a lot of that in Wild River. It’s peaceful there. A man can think.”

Macy closed her eyes. “Mmm. Sounds like heaven.”

“Pretty close. What about you? Are you a big-city girl?”

“I kind of had to be. My mother and father were both actors. I grew up around glamour and glitz. But with that also came petty jealousy, vanity and overindulgence. So, no. I don’t like big cities. For me, when I go back to Los Angeles, I’ll be facing the same kind of scrutiny. Different reporters hounding me, but with the same agenda. I won’t have a moment of real privacy. I dread it already.”

“There’s no place you can go to hide out?”

Macy shook her head. She’d authorized the money from the auction to pay off her mother’s debts and to pay attorney fees to settle her lawsuits. She didn’t have the money or the means to take off to an exotic port where she wouldn’t be recognized. “Not really.”

Carter was quiet for a few minutes as the yacht rocked gently, cruising by Ellis Island. Beams of light from the Statue of Liberty glistened along the water’s surface. Carter’s musky scent traveled on the breeze. Standing so close to him, Macy felt immeasurably safe and protected. The feeling wouldn’t last. Soon, she’d have to face reality.

She sighed and let the wind whip at her face.

When she opened her eyes, Carter was staring at her, his expression determined. “Why not come to Wild River with me?”

“Wh-what?”

“You can hide out there for as long as you want. I have a big house and thousands of acres. Nobody’ll know you’re there.”

“I, uh…uh…”

“You can leave with me on the red-eye. We’ll be in Texas at breakfast and having lunch at Wild River before noon.”

It sounded like heaven, but Macy couldn’t just fly off with a stranger. Could she? She didn’t know much about him, other than he was wealthy, handsome, honorable and kind.

Oh boy. She’d just answered her own question. But could she really do this? Could she really run away from her troubles for a while? With Carter? What did she have waiting for her in L.A. anyway? She’d have to figure out her future soon, but she hadn’t been able to think of much else but getting through the auction. It had consumed her thoughts and sapped her spirit. Now she’d been offered a brief respite. “I don’t really know y—”

“Look, up until a few hours ago, I was in love with a woman and ready to be married. This is purely an offer with no strings attached. I won’t be sneaking into your room at night.”

Why not? Didn’t he find her appealing? A nervous laugh escaped. “Oh, I wasn’t thinking you would.”

His tone turned serious. “Just so you know, I’m offering you a place to stay, period. It’s up to you. Soon as we’re off this yacht, I’m making arrangements to get back to Wild River. The invitation is yours if you want to take it.”

Because that seemed to be what Carter McCay did. He saved people. And Macy had a big decision to make. Does she go home to Hollywood and face the photographers, the disruptions to her privacy and the bellyaches, or fly off with the sexy cowboy of her dreams?

Shouldn’t be such a hard decision.

But Macy wasn’t like Tina Tarlington in that respect. She didn’t usually do things by the seat of her pants.

Except this time.

Macy needed the peace.

She needed time to think.

She needed to get a handle on where her life was heading.

When it came right down to it, Macy didn’t need any more encouragement. She turned to Carter with a brave smile. “I’ll take it,” she said. “You won’t even know I’m there.”

Macy sat in first class with Carter on a plane nearly empty of passengers. She was heading to Texas, a place she’d visited a few times when she was a young girl. What she remembered about Dallas, Houston and Austin was that everyone was polite and the men were tall, friendly and wore cowboy hats. She’d been fascinated, tagging along with her mother when she’d begun a promotional tour for Striking Out for Texas, a Western film that eventually tanked. Her mother hadn’t been happy about it. The public had seen Tina Tarlington only as a sequin-gown-wearing glamour queen and that’s where they wanted to keep her. A tomboyish, ponytailed Tina with a twang wasn’t big box office. Her mother had faulted the director for the failure due to his lack of vision. Much to Macy’s dismay, she’d never made another Western.

Macy’s fascination with Texas cities had soon turned to disappointment. As a twelve-year-old, she’d expected to see horses roaming the range and longhorn steers grazing. The Texas she’d seen wasn’t anything like Carter McCay had described to her. Now, a shot of mental adrenaline brought on a round of excitement. She couldn’t wait to see the land Carter owned. She couldn’t wait to see Wild River Ranch.

He sat across the aisle from her, lounging in a big leather seat, his long legs stretched out in front of him. With his eyes closed, she could take time to really admire him. His lashes were unfairly long. Brad Pitt dark-blond hair touched his collar, unruly for a military man but perfect for a rancher. His shoulders seemed to stretch a yard wide.

Carter wore a tan shirt now, tucked into slightly worn blue jeans, leather boots and a silver belt buckle with the initials W.R. She assumed the initials were for the ranch, Wild River. Macy had seen Carter only in dress clothes, but it didn’t take her long to figure out he’d look good in anything he wore. The hat, now covering half his face in a downward tilt, was a constant. On Carter, it wasn’t a fashion accessory—it belonged on top of his head.

His eyes snapped alert, and he turned his head her way. Caught staring at him, she darted a glance to the overhead compartment, refusing to look into his eyes.

“What’s that I heard about a nude scene?”

Oh boy. Macy’s heart pumped double time. She’d hoped he hadn’t picked up on that comment from the dozens being leveled at her earlier. “It’s…nothing.”

Carter, apparently done with his little nap, turned his body to face her completely. The full force of his gaze was nothing to sneeze at. “That so? You gonna make me look it up online?”

Macy’s mouth fell open. “You’d do that?”

Carter’s eyes lit with mischief. “So, it is something.”

“Nothing I want to talk about.”

“I’m not a fan of computers, Macy. But I use them when I need to.”

“Trust me. You don’t need to know.”

His lips twisted into a frown and Macy thought about how he’d come to her rescue. How, he’d offered her a place of refuge. She supposed she owed him some sort of explanation.

“Oh, all right. I was doing a movie. It wasn’t a big role or anything, just this little independent film about five women stranded on an island together. I had this scene where…”

Carter leaned forward, his gaze sweeping over her in a way he’d never done before. As if he was just noticing her as a woman. A tremor quaked through her belly, making her extremely queasy.

“Go on,” he said, his brows lifting expectantly.

Sure, mention five females and nudity in the same breath, and suddenly men begin actually listening to women. She took a swallow. “Well, there was this one scene where I was to be bathing naked in this tropical lake and, uh…”

“And?”

“Well, you get the picture, right?”

Carter swept his gaze over her again. This time, with more heat than she’d expected from a jilted man. His hazel eyes darkened. “I’m beginning to.”

She’d wanted those words back the second she’d said them. Goodness, she wasn’t asking him to picture her naked, yet the gleam in his eyes was enough to make her faint.

She pressed on. “Well, I chickened out. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t allow millions of people to see me in my birthday suit. The studio offered a body double, but everyone would still think it was me anyway. So…” She wished she didn’t have to reveal such a humiliating experience to him. “I, uh, refused to do it. I sort of had a tantrum about it.” Lessons learned from her mother. “Finally, they rewrote the scene without the nudity. Needless to say, I made a lot of people unhappy.”

Carter leaned back in his seat and nodded, and that awkward awareness between them was gone. “You stuck to your principles.”

“I should have never agreed to it in the first place.”

“Yeah, well. Hindsight can be a bitch. We do things we’re thinking are right at the time, only to find out later how wrong we were.”

From the regret in his voice, Macy knew he was speaking about his own situation. She lowered her tone and gave him a soft smile. “I’m sorry about what happened yesterday with your—”

“Jocelyn?” He shifted his gaze to look out the window. “Yeah, I didn’t see that coming. I’m not sure what happened there, but I guarantee you I won’t let it happen again. I’ve got my guard up now.”

Macy nibbled on her lower lip. “You know, you can throw me off your property anytime you want. If you regret inviting me to stay at your place and would rather be alone, I’d understand.”

He faced her. “Don’t worry, Macy. Like I said, I’ve got ten thousand acres. You won’t get in my way. And I won’t get in yours. I don’t live with regrets. So don’t you worry your head off about me. Is it a deal?”

Macy smiled, more assured now. “It’s a deal.”

Three

The second Carter planted his boots down on Texas soil, he felt better. He’d been gone only a few days, but he was damn grateful to be back on his own land. Coming home to Wild River never got old.

Jocelyn had bruised him, and he couldn’t quite shake the feeling. He’d never asked a woman to marry him before. He’d never had the inclination. Jocelyn had reeled him in like a sucker, and just when he thought things were going great, she’d tossed him back into the water to fish for someone else.

Macy had been bruised, too. Her circumstances were different, but when he’d spotted her outside the restaurant, he’d seen a look of pain and disbelief in her eyes. He’d felt a kinship with her that, even now, he couldn’t truly define. It was the reason he’d invited her to Wild River.

He glimpsed his fifteen-room house and breathed in the earthy scent of range and cattle before he turned from the car to reach for Macy’s hand. She slid her palm into his and climbed out of her seat, as graceful as a doe, to stand beside him. “You ready for a slice of heaven?”

Those violet eyes of hers swept the Wild River vista and a little sigh escaped her lips. Carter’s chest puffed out some at her thunderstruck look. “Oh, it’s stunning, Carter.”

Carter had worked with an architect to give his home just the right mixture of down-home comfort and modern-day style. The result, much to his satisfaction, turned out to be a wood and stone structure with bay windows and skylights. Stone pilings and wrought-iron fencing surrounded the grounds. Beyond the house lay the outer buildings that made up the ranch itself, with corrals, barns and feed shacks.

“No tall skyscrapers blocking out the sunrise here.” He glanced eastward toward the orange blast of light lifting from the land in midday splendor. “Every room at the back of the house has a big window facing east. Same goes for sunsets for the rooms facing west.”

“And I bet you make sure you see the sun rise every day.”

“I’m up at the crack of dawn.”

Macy’s eyes rolled at his clichéd response. “Just like a regular cowpoke.”

He chuckled. Damn, but it felt good being home. “I’m a businessman, but I’m a rancher first. You gotta love the land and all that goes with it.”

“I’m feeling better already. I think I’m going to like it here,” she said softly, and Carter didn’t doubt it. His land had everything.

A four-legged ball of fur shot out of the barn, wagging its tail around and around like a jet propeller, and raced straight for Macy. Her face lit up. “Oh, isn’t he cute.”

“Say hi to Rocky. He sort of runs the place.”

Carter lowered down at the same time Macy did and their hands touched as they stroked the dog’s blond coat.

“Hello, Rocky,” Macy said with reverence.

“You like dogs?” he asked.

“What’s not to like? I had a dog once.” Her eyes grew distant and she sucked in a breath, shuddering. “My, uh, dad accidentally ran Queenie over. She died. It was awful.”

“That’s rough. Rocky here had a brush with death not too long ago.”

Macy kept vigilant, stroking the top of Rocky’s head and shoulders, and the darn dog was lapping it all up. “What happened?”

“There was a fire.”

“Oh no!”

“Yeah, Rocky almost didn’t make it.”

“Oh,” Macy said, intent on the dog. “Did you rescue Rocky, too?”

Carter grunted and rose to his full height. “In more ways than one.” But he wasn’t going there today. He didn’t want to ruin his good mood thinking about Riley McCay, his alcoholic father, and the dog he couldn’t care for. He turned to Henry, his foreman, who’d been giving Carter strange stares since he’d picked them up at the airport. Henry didn’t know what to make of Macy. He’d expected to see Jocelyn standing beside Carter outside the terminal gates.

His foreman retrieved Carter’s bag and Macy’s flamingo-pink suitcases from the back end of the vehicle and set them down on the ground, with a shake of his head. Carter’s lips pulled tight to keep from chuckling at his mystified foreman’s expression. “Thanks, Henry. I’ll take Macy’s bags into the house myself. Appreciate the ride.”

Henry nodded and shot a glance to Macy.

She looked up at the same time. “Yes, thank you, Henry.”

He tipped his hat to her, got in the SUV and drove off.

“I think you’ve made a friend there,” Carter said, heaving her suitcases.

“Henry?” she quizzed, looking up.

He pointed to the golden retriever. “I was talking about the dog.”

A genuine smile lifted her lips. “I think Rocky and I are going to be good friends.”

Macy rose and followed Carter toward the house, Rocky at her heels. At least his new houseguest liked dogs. Jocelyn would hoist her nose at Rocky and claim he triggered her allergies. The two hadn’t been friends.

Not that Carter was comparing the women or anything.

After Macy gushed over the interior living area of his home, which managed to puff his chest again, he walked her down the hallway, offering her one of three bedrooms. She stuck her head inside all of them and then met him back in the hallway. “Where is your bedroom?”

Well, damn. That was right to the point. If he’d been gulping whiskey, he might have spit his liquor at that one. “The last room down the hall and to the right.” His brows knit together. “Why?”

“I appreciate you letting me hide out here, but I don’t want to invade your privacy. I’ll take the one farthest from your room.”

That made sense. “Fine.”

He set her bags down in a room with a queen-size bed, white oak furniture and a bedspread with yellow and blue flowers. Macy walked over to the window. “Looks like I get the sunsets.”

Carter sidled up next to her, and her fresh scent tickled his nose and brought memories of picking peaches on summer days. He inhaled deep and long, surprised that he hadn’t noticed her scent before. Fruit-infused soap or shampoo, or whatever the hell it was, wasn’t what he’d expected from a Hollywood actress with a legendary mother. “You won’t be disappointed. They’re mighty glorious.”

Macy sighed.

Carter’s stomach grumbled, and he didn’t apologize. He had an enormous appetite. “Ready for lunch?”

She glanced at the bed, then at him. “I, uh, I’m fine right now. You go on. I’m going to rest a little.”

“Okay, you know where the kitchen is. Henry will have made up something delicious by now. Have at it, anytime you want.”

“Henry? He’s the cook?”

Carter gave her a wry smile. Hers wasn’t an unusual reaction. Henry often surprised people. “His wife, Mara, took ill this week. Turns out, Henry’s a pretty good cook. We share duties at Wild River. But Henry doesn’t do windows, or any other cleaning. Mara does that. She’ll be back tomorrow to help clean up his mess. Oh, and feel free to use the pool, the sauna or the spa, anytime you want.”

“Thank you, Carter.”

He nodded. “Dinner’s at seven. See you then.”

Carter walked down the hallway to his room and tossed his suitcase down, then hightailed it outside to speak with Henry.

He found him in the office/tack room, just outside the barn. “Need a word with you, Henry.”

“Sure, boss. But I got some news for you, too. I didn’t want to speak in front of the lady before.”

“All right, you first.”

Henry began, “The inn over by the river got broken into while you were gone. A window was smashed and doesn’t appear that there’s any other damage. Window’s already been replaced. Thought I’d tell you. It’s not the first time it’s happened though. Bucky reported someone snooping around over there, but they’d taken off by the time he’d driven up.”

Carter rubbed at his neck. He hated the thought of anyone messing with his property. He’d been trying to decide whether to refurbish the inn or tear it down.

“I met an old guy in town the other day. He was pretty sharp and looking for work. Thought maybe he’d make a good groundskeeper. You know, someone to check the property and make sure nothing’s disturbed.”

Carter mulled it over for a second. With Macy Tarlington staying at Wild River, a little extra security wouldn’t hurt. “It’s not a bad idea, Henry. Why don’t you give him an interview and get back to me.”

“Will do. Now, what can I do for you?”

“That woman I brought here today—do you recognize her?”

Henry jerked back a bit, surprised. “Should I?”

Relieved, Carter gave a shake of the head. “Maybe not. It’s good that you don’t, actually. But Mara might.”

And Carter spent the next ten minutes explaining to his foreman about Macy and how important it was to keep her identity a secret. Carter didn’t think any of the ranch hands would recognize the daughter of a Hollywood legend since Macy had kept herself under the radar until recently, but their wives and girlfriends might. It was a chance they’d have to take. For the most part, folks kept to themselves, and for as long as he could, he’d make sure Macy got some privacy on his ranch.

Macy glanced around the room that would be her sanctuary and shook her head. “You are plum crazy, girl,” she muttered, picking up Carter’s Texas drawl. “Coming to live with the tall, tan, too-good-to-be-true Texan.”

She flopped onto the bed and grabbed a pillow, hugging it to her chest. She’d been lured to Wild River by her own curiosity and a brand-new sense of adventure. But while that was all true, she hadn’t been completely honest with Carter about the diamond ring he’d bought at auction, and as a result he’d become the diamond’s latest victim. She couldn’t blame him for being bitter and cautious now about relationships. Macy felt the same way. She’d seen her mother fall in love three times, and all three times had been a disaster.

She no longer believed in love or happily-ever-afters. She didn’t know too many couples who’d sustained their marriages more than a decade. And living in Hollywood, she’d known the truth about the few long-term marriages, too. It seemed that no one was happy for long. Very few of those marriages had held firm to their commitment.

Sad but true.

Giving in to fatigue, Macy relaxed back on the bed and closed her eyes. To hell with unpacking. She wasn’t going to be pragmatic now. She was taking a break from reality. No lawyers right now. No tabloids. No worry about saying the wrong thing. No one hounding her.

A sudden movement on her bed startled her, and the scent of rawhide followed. She snapped her eyes open. She’d been wrong. She was being hounded, but she didn’t mind the nuzzling. She could get used to this. “Hello, Rocky.”

The dog curled his body next to hers and laid his head down. She looked into his big caramel eyes and smiled. Carter had been right. His ranch had everything.

An hour later, refreshed from her nap, Macy showered and changed into fresh clothes, a pair of white jeans and an indigo tank top. Her hair was still wet when she drew it back into a ponytail. Five minutes in the Texas heat would dry it.

She thought better about stepping into flip-flops and opted for her Nikes. Carter had given her half an hour to pack before the car had come for her at the hotel. As it was, she’d packed only enough clothes to last her through a short stay in New York, and not too much was suitable for ranch living.

“Guess I’m going to do some shopping while I’m here,” she muttered to Rocky.

The dog wagged his tail at the sound of her voice. He hadn’t left her side since he’d plopped onto the bed. They’d enjoyed the nap together, and he’d sat outside the shower door while she was cleaning up.

Macy grinned at him. “You want to show me around after lunch?”

Another tail wag.

Macy found the kitchen easily. It wasn’t hard to miss, and it was definitely Texas-size with wood beamed ceilings, homey tiled counters and a table big enough for a small army. She rummaged through the double-door refrigerator, coming up with brisket and swiss cheese. She was too hungry to go to any more trouble than throwing a sandwich together. She slapped mustard on sourdough bread and made quick work of eating her lunch. Every so often, she’d pull off a piece of beef and toss it to Rocky.

He gobbled it without chewing.

“No doubt he’ll be your friend for life.”

She spun around so fast, her ponytail whipped her cheek. She found Carter leaning against the kitchen doorway, staring at her. He flicked his gaze over her in one sweep and then focused on Rocky, but it was enough to freeze all movement in her chest. She cleared her throat and wondered when she’d stop reacting to him this way. “Oh, I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t be feeding him this, uh—”

Carter sauntered into the kitchen. “He eats anything.” He grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator and offered her one.

“No, thanks.”

“And refuses nothing. At least, I’ve never seen my father’s dog deny himself a meal of any kind.”

“Good to note.”

“Out of necessity,” he added. “He wasn’t always fed.”

“Oh.” The dog used to belong to Carter’s father. Macy connected the dots. They stood facing each other and she watched Carter’s throat work, swallowing a gulp of beer. “I’ll just clean up my mess and get out of here.”

Carter had the beer to his lips again and stopped from sipping to eye her over the bottle. “You know, we’re bound to bump into each other. You don’t have to run off. The kitchen is big enough for both of us.”

Not from where she was standing. Whenever Carter entered a room, he commanded all the space and Macy saw nothing else. “Gotcha.”

“Where are you going anyway?”

“Just exploring. I thought I’d stretch my legs and take a walk.”

He blinked and a look of concern crossed his features. “I should probably go with you the first time.” He gulped down the rest of his beer.

“You think I’ll get lost?”

“It’s a big ranch.”

“I’m a big girl.” She pulled out her phone. “I’ve got GPS.”

He clearly didn’t find her amusing. “Come with me,” he said. Thankfully, he didn’t take her hand. It was one thing to hold his hand when they were running down an alley to safety, and another altogether while alone in his big, gorgeous house. She followed him to his bedroom and waited at the doorway while he searched through a walk-in closet. He pulled a red plaid shirt off a hanger and she noted how he scrutinized it for a long few seconds. Macy noticed a few other female things hanging in his closet before he turned to her. “Here you go.”

She balked at wearing Jocelyn’s clothes and shook her head. “No, thanks.”

“You don’t want to wear it?” Carter’s voice rose in question.

“Not my style.” She didn’t want anything to remind him of the woman who’d jilted him. Why add insult to injury?

His gaze touched on the small cleavage exposed by her tank top, and silently she drew a breath. “Fair enough. Soon as I can, I’m gonna give this stuff to charity anyway. You got anything to wear besides white jeans?” He focused on her pants, and Macy’s throat nearly constricted. “Those will stick out like a sore thumb around here.”

“I wasn’t planning on ranch living when I packed for New York.”

“I’ll take you into town to get some clothes tomorrow. Maybe some boots, too.”

He reached into his closet again and came up with a tan-colored felt hat. He set it onto her head. “This is one of mine,” he said, giving her a solid look. “Pretty good disguise, too. Those long curls of yours are bound to cause attention.”

Macy tucked her hair under the hat.

He gave her a look of approval. “Put on your shades, and we’re good to go.”

Macy stood in the center of a broken-down gazebo and swirled around with her arms outstretched. A joyous smile lifted her lips. If she flung her hat into the air, it would be reminiscent of Mary Tyler Moore’s famous opening scene, and Macy would do it if Carter wasn’t standing a short distance away, watching her every move.

Yes, the gazebo was broken down, the pristine white paint chipped from age and neglect, with much of the structure unsupported. But the floor would make a good-size stage, and the grounds themselves could be amazing with a little tender loving care.

Right now, the actress in her envisioned young children sitting on the gazebo’s wooden steps, cold reading, learning techniques to perform upon the stage.

Rocky sat on dry grass, watching her, too. “It’s perfect,” she whispered, reluctant to leave, her mind spinning with possibilities. Carter waited at the back door of the inn. He’d taken her here to show her the seventy-year-old structure that was also abused by neglect. The relic sat one mile into McCay property, and before they’d gotten inside, Macy had spotted the gazebo that drew her like a magnet.

She glanced at Carter, who was waiting and watching her. “Okay, Rock. Looks like we have to go.”

When she reached Carter, he gestured toward the gazebo. “I’m thinking about tearing it down.”

“No! You can’t do that.”

Carter’s brows furrowed at her outburst. “Why not?”

“It’s wonderful, that’s why not. It could be grand again with a little work.”

“It’s dangerous. It won’t hold in a storm.”

“Can it be braced?”

Carter scoffed at that, and Macy thought he was being unreasonable. But what did it matter anyway? She wouldn’t be teaching here, or anyplace else for that matter.

Carter showed her around the six-bedroom inn that had come with the land he’d purchased as an expansion of his uncle’s original property. Macy had to give him credit for being a self-made man. He’d taken an old run-down ranch and built an empire.

Already, in the half day she’d been here, she had seen how different his life was than the flaky phoniness of Hollywood. They were worlds apart.

Carter showed her the dilapidated upstairs bedrooms. Five of the rooms were dusty, the walls a mess of stained old wallpaper and filthy warped floors. Just as he was about to lead her down the staircase again, Macy pointed to one room at the end of the hallway. “Wait, Carter. What’s in there?”

Carter hesitated, his expression closed off. Before he could answer, Macy, too curious for her own good, walked toward the door and pushed it open. She poked her head inside. “Oh wow. This is…amazing.” She turned to him in surprise. “It’s completely refurbished.”

He frowned. “I know. It’s just one room.”

Macy glanced at the freshly painted walls, the king-size bed decorated with a brown silk comforter and the polished wood floors. “It’s a picture of what the whole house could look like.”

Carter’s mouth twisted again, as if he’d bitten into a sour lemon. “Yeah, well, we’ll see.”

He turned and started for the stairs.

Macy closed the door softly and followed him downstairs, a dozen questions filling her mind.

They wound up in the kitchen. Cobwebs in the corner of the ceilings made her arms itch. Carter stood by a bay window, looking out. “Do you think it’s worth fixing up?”

“Yes, of course. It’s full of charm.”

He shrugged. “For some, it’s charming. For others, it’s old and run-down, just like a lot of places around here.”

Panic rose in her throat. “You’re not seriously thinking about destroying this place?”

“It’s an eyesore on the property.”

Macy doubted that. The house wasn’t set on the highway, but deep into Carter’s land. No one could find the place, much less see it, unless they were searching for it. “With a little time and effort, the house could really shine. You could open it to the public and rent out rooms or use it as a guesthouse.”

He contemplated for a few moments, then gave her a nod, as if her opinion mattered. “I’ll think about it.”

They left the inn and walked along the river’s edge. Macy let the peace and calm settle into her bones. The quiet surge of the water glistening under the Texas sun soothed and filled her with ease.

“This is exactly what I needed,” she whispered.

“Wild River does that.” It was a statement of fact, one that wasn’t up for interpretation. Carter truly loved this place.

Cottonwoods shaded them as they strolled on, Rocky at Carter’s heels. She felt safe here, out in the middle of nowhere, living with a stranger. Carter had hardly known her before offering up his home, and with him by her side, Macy felt protected.

“I’m glad you invited me here,” she said, holding back another round of thanks. She didn’t want to sound like a broken record.

He looked toward the river, his eyes squinting against the rays of sunlight. “Stay as long as you need, Hollywood.”

She chuckled at the nickname, not sure she liked it yet. She wasn’t the clichéd Hollywood type, but then, as she gazed at herself in the water’s reflection, she could see his point. Everything about her spoke of disguise and fraud.

In her heart, Macy knew who she really was, but she hadn’t been allowed to follow her own dreams, not when she was busy living her mother’s.

Now, she was at a crossroads, unsure where to turn.

She vowed she wouldn’t let it get her down.

Not while she was living at Wild River.

She was on vacation…from life.

After dinner, Carter left Macy to her own devices, needing to get something off his chest. Or at least, get an explanation from his cousin. At Brady’s house on the outskirts of town he climbed out of his Jeep, slamming the door closed. He glanced at the front entrance and drew a deep breath. Having to admit being rejected wasn’t easy, but under these circumstances, it really burned.

No one answered his knocking. But the scent of a fired-up grill drew him to the backyard. He found Brady on his deck cooking a steak. Smoke ruffled the heavy air as he met his cousin’s inquisitive stare.

“Hey, Carter. Didn’t expect to see you so soon. Thought maybe you’d be out making wedding plans.” He poked at his steak with a long-pronged fork and turned it over.

Carter’s mouth twisted. “That’s not happening. She turned me down.”

Brady set his barbecue fork onto the side of the grill and snapped up his head. “She did?”

Carter leveled him a direct look. “Thought maybe you’d know why.”

Brady’s brows gathered tight. “Me? How should I know? Didn’t she give you a reason?”

Carter paced behind Brady, carefully choosing his words. He’d always been close to Brady, and he trusted him. The man had scruples and had brought himself up from poverty to become quite successful in commercial real estate. Carter wasn’t accusing him of anything, but a man had a right to know what end was up. “She did. But I’d like to know what you’ve got to say about it.”

His cousin moved his steak to the side of the grill, taking it away from the heat, and turned to him. “You have dinner yet?”

“I have. And I’ll leave you in peace to eat yours once we talk about this.”

“Hey, I’m sorry Jocelyn turned you down, but I gotta say…”

Brady hesitated and Carter pressed him. “Say what?”

“Fine, I’ll tell you, since you’re intent on knowing the truth. I don’t care for the woman, but I kept my mouth shut after you two started dating. She visited Regina time and again and was always bad-mouthing the old lady. Like her grandmother was a burden or something. Regina loves that girl something fierce, and it pained me to see it. Don’t get me wrong—Jocelyn’s pretty and all, and I suppose she has some nice qualities. Obviously, you thought so. I believed it was just me thinking she was uppity. She was forever coming over here, asking me to help her with Regina. Not that I minded helping the old lady, but Jocelyn had a way about her that put me off.”

Relieved, Carter took it all in. “You didn’t tell me any of this.”

“I didn’t think it was getting serious between you. I mean, Jocelyn made it seem—”

“What?”

With a shake of his head, Brady refused him an answer. “Nothing. She doesn’t matter. How’re you doing with all this? You were fixed on marrying her and settling down. Man, I hate to say this, but you’re probably better off.”

Carter glared at him, hating to hear the truth.

“I’m sorry. But you asked.” Brady went inside the house and returned with two beers in his hands. “Here you go. Drown your sorrows.”

Carter’s mouth twisted. He grabbed the bottle. “According to you, I should be celebrating.”

Brady took a swig and nodded. “We’ve always been honest with each other.”

Carter lifted the bottle to his mouth, tilted his head way back and guzzled half of the beer in one huge gulp. “True. Man, this is tough, but I got to tell you why she broke it off with me.”

Brady began shaking his head. “No, you don’t. Not if it’s personal, you don’t.”

“It involves you, Brady. I have to so you and I will be square. I don’t want anything coming between us. Hell, you’re all the family I got.”

“Not true. You have Riley.”

Carter blew that notion off, swearing an oath.

“He’s your father,” Brady said.

“As I said, you’re all the family I got. Getting back to Jocelyn, it seems the whole time she was lying with me at night, she was thinking about you.”

A sharp intake of breath pulled Brady’s chest in. His voice elevated. “What?”

“She claims she’s in love with you.”

Brady began shaking his head. “That’s not possible.”

“It’s the reason she gave me, and she made no bones about it. She was clear as day. She was trying to make you jealous.” Carter waited a beat. “Were you?”

Brady set his beer down and looked him in the eye. “No. Never even occurred to me. I thought you were making a mistake, but if you two were happy, I was staying out of it.”

“Okay. I gotcha. Just had to know.”

“Man, I’m sorry.”

Carter finished the rest of his beer and cocked him a crooked smile. “For being irresistible?”

“For you getting hurt.”

He couldn’t deny he wasn’t feeling hurt, angry, betrayed and a mess of other emotions, but he’d learned his lesson. “It won’t happen again. I’m off the market for marriage now.”

Brady lowered his voice. “She really did a number on you.”

Carter’s lips twisted again. “I’ll get over it.”

It wasn’t just Jocelyn that he’d lost, but the possibility of a wife and family that, now, he wouldn’t allow to remotely enter his mind. He was through. Finished. Done. It was liberating, even through the pain.

“You can eat your supper.”

“Thanks, now that you’ve ruined my appetite.”

“Right,” Carter said without a hint of remorse. Brady’s appetite rivaled his own. That was at least a fourteen-ounce steak he was grilling up. Carter knew beef like nobody’s business.

He shook his cousin’s hand. “Stop by the house soon. I brought home a houseguest. I’d like you to meet her.”

Brady’s brows flew to his hairline. “Her? You brought a woman home from New York? Man, you don’t waste any time.”

Laughter rose up from his throat. “It’s not like that. Macy is—”

“Macy? Is she old? Fat? Ugly?”

Carter didn’t have to think twice. “Pretty, bordering on beautiful. Around twenty-six years old and shaped like a goddess—well, a slender goddess.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Brady’s expression changed to disbelief. “This is a joke.”

“It’s no joke, but it’s not what it seems.”

Carter took the next few minutes explaining to his cousin about how he met Macy right after being dumped and the odd sort of kinship he felt toward her after seeing her being attacked by the paparazzi. She needed someone’s protection, and he’d been there. She’d been a vital distraction to his heartache, too, and he wasn’t sorry he’d asked her to stay at Wild River.

Brady scratched his head. “Okay, I’ll stop by sometime.”

“Good. Your steak’s getting cold. Eat. I’m outta here.”

Carter was almost out of Brady’s backyard when his cousin’s wry voice stopped him cold. “Wonder what Jocelyn would say if she found out you have a gorgeous female houseguest?”

Carter pivoted on his heels to face Brady. “Now, how would she find out something like that?”

“Maybe I’ll just mention it to Regina tomorrow when I’m fixing her shelves.”

He shrugged. Jocelyn wasn’t his concern anymore. But payback was a bitch. “Whatever floats your boat, cuz. Just don’t mention Macy’s name.”

Brady nodded with a wicked smile.

And then Carter was off.

Four

Soft, inky locks of hair curled at the base of Macy’s neck in damp wisps. Her attempt at piling those strands on top of her head wasn’t working too well, and the whole picture she made sitting on the lounge chair at the pool captured Carter’s attention from the kitchen doorway. Her soft shoulders were exposed and glowing golden, as was every inch of her skin but for the strip of snow-white material covering her curves in a two-piece swimsuit. His mouth had nearly dropped to the ground when she’d found that bikini at the River Rags clothing store in town a few days back.

Carter had tried to talk her out of buying the damn bikini. The point of shopping for clothes was to make her look less conspicuous, not draw any unwanted attention. But her argument had made sense. “No one will see me in it. And I love getting a good tan.”

Apparently, she hadn’t thought he’d counted.

Because he saw her wearing it, and the image wasn’t one he’d likely forget.

She looked rested, which was the plan, and she had stayed out of his hair, just as she’d promised. Trouble was, Carter had seen glimpses of her quiet pool time for three days straight and had wanted to join her.

She came from a different world, he told himself. And he’d already been burned.

Good sense had him turning away from the kitchen sliding glass door, But her inquisitive voice carried to his ears. “Is that you, Carter?”

“Uh-huh. It’s me. But don’t let me disturb you.”

“I can use some disturbing.” Her voice held a gentle ring of frustration. She closed the book and turned her pretty violet eyes on him.

He strolled outside and sat down in a wrought-iron chair in the shade three feet away from her.

“Chicken,” she said with laughter in her voice.

He unfastened the top two buttons on his shirt. “Must be ninety degrees out here. I do enough baking out on the range.”

She tilted her head to the side and then shot a glance over the deep blue waters of his massive pool and the beautiful garden surrounding it. “You could actually use your own pool, you know.”

“And ruin my cowboy image?”

A bubble of laughter escaped her throat. He laughed, too, but his focus drifted from her pretty face to honeyed California skin bathed in sunlight. Her legs were long and sleek and perfectly shaped. Her stomach flat and her breasts…Carter lifted his gaze to meet her eyes.

She flushed pink. Damn, did she expect him not to notice her killer body? His voice grew husky. “Just what kind of disturbing did you want me to do?”

“I, uh…” She gazed past the pool area and garden to the vast open spaces beyond. “I’m bored. I know it’s not your problem, and I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but besides Henry and Mara and you, I’ve had no human contact for three full days. Well, there was the shopping trip to town, but that was a quick outing and I didn’t exactly make any friends along the way, with my disguise and all. Speaking of that, I don’t think anyone around here would know me—”

“Do you know how to ride?”

Her brows gathered together. “Horses?”

He nodded slowly.

“Of course. I practically grew up riding. My father did a motion picture in Spain and we stayed at this magnificent hacienda. I was six then and I’ve been riding ever since.”

“We’ll go after dinner. At sunset.”

“Really?”

Carter scratched his head. He hadn’t been a good host. The hope in Macy’s voice was proof positive. “Just be sure to wear those cowboy duds you bought. And a hat.”

“It’ll be dark. I don’t think I’ll need a disguise.”

“It’s not for purposes of disguise.” His gaze flashed over her body in an unconcealed sweep that brought his message home.

She blinked and whispered, “Oh?”

She had to know how tempting she looked to him right now. If she hadn’t caught him watching her at the door, he would’ve marched back into his office and tried to forget the sexual awareness that had been niggling at him all week. He was still shell-shocked from Jocelyn’s deception. And Macy was a distraction to his bruised ego, but lusting after her wasn’t in the cards.

But neither of them needed any complications in their lives right now.

“Excuse me, Carter, Miss Tarlington.” Mara stood at the back doorway.

Carter was grateful for the interruption. Things were getting a little hot out here. “Hey, Mara. What can I do for you?”

“Henry’s finished with his interview. He’s impressed and would like you to meet with Mr. Fargo, if you’ve got the time today.”

“Sure, have Henry bring him into the office.”

“I plan to go home with Henry afterward, if that’s all right. Supper’s ready and keeping warm.”

“That’s fine. Thanks, Mara.”

“Okay then. I’ll be saying goodbye to both of you.”

Macy sat farther up in her chair, poking her head around him. “Bye, Mara, and remember to call me Macy.”

Mara nodded and then was gone.

Carter rose from the patio chair and glanced at Macy tying up the straps of her bathing suit top. As she tightened the drawstring, her breasts pushed together. He drew a breath quietly and excused himself.

“See you at supper, Carter,” she said.

“Right,” he muttered. He wasn’t sure which was worse, inviting Macy Tarlington to Wild River Ranch or enjoying her being here even more.

Carter sat behind his large walnut desk in an office situated on the opposite end of the living area of the house. As often as he could, he conducted business from here, rather than driving into Dallas, where he held six thousand square feet of office space for McCay’s Cattle Company. His work included more than cattle buying and selling lately. He’d diversified and had his hands in other ventures as well, but his bread and butter would always be ranching. It was his first love.

Carter met his prospective employee with a cordial smile. He believed that nothing told more about a man than the sincerity in his eyes. “I see from your résumé, Mr. Fargo, you’ve got an extensive amount of experience.”

“I’ve been around the block a few times,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

Carter nodded, continuing to sift through his papers. “You’ve done construction, government work and teaching, among other things. What did you teach?”

Bill Fargo leaned over and looked at his paperwork upside down on Carter’s desk. He pointed to the middle of a page. “Says right on there, American history. I coached football for a few years, too.”

Carter leaned back in his seat, perusing the gray-haired man. He was well-groomed, nice looking and in his sixties. Carter liked his confidence. “I played in high school. Running back.”

Bill Fargo gave him a quick once-over. “You hold some long-term records.”

“I do.” Texas and football was like chips and dip. One’s just not good without the other. “It was a while back.”

“Nineteen hundred yards in a single season. You ran for thirteen touchdowns.”

Carter chuckled. “You did your homework.”

“I would take credit for that, but the truth is, I noseyed around town and asked about you. Seems Wild River residents don’t forget football records.”

Carter knew that for fact. “I’m curious. What else did you learn about me?”

“Ex-military. Father’s a drunk. You’re fair in your dealings and run a tight ship.”

The side of his jaw itched. Carter pressed his fingers there, scratching it and staring at the older man. He’d never had his life summed up so succinctly before. The man could have added “recently jilted by your girlfriend” to the list. “The job is for a groundskeeper. To keep watch over the land and an old structure I’m thinking about renovating. You don’t have experience in that.”

Bill Fargo crossed his arms over his slender frame and sat back in his seat. “I kept twenty boys and girls interested in history every semester. Kept a forty-man football team of teenagers from fighting, drinking and bad-mouthing authority. If I’m given a job, I do it. I’ve got some experience with firearms, too.”

Carter’s brows lifted. “I don’t doubt that.” He studied his résumé under Hobbies. “You’re a hunter.”

“That’s right.”

“Why do you want to work here?” Carter asked.

“I need work and Wild River’s a nice enough place to live.”

Carter liked the old guy. He believed he’d get an honest day’s work out of him. “Fair enough.” Carter took a second to go over his résumé once more. Henry liked him enough to recommend him, and he’d made a good impression. “Everything looks good. If you’re in agreement with the terms, you’re hired.”

Carter extended his hand and Fargo’s grip was solid and steady as they shook on it. Then they rose from their seats. “See Henry tomorrow and he’ll go over your duties. Is there anything else I can answer for you?”

“Can’t think of a thing,” Fargo said.

“Great. Then thank you for the interview.”

They said their farewells and Carter watched the older man walk out. He debated about telling him that Macy Tarlington, daughter to the legendary actress, was staying on the property. His trust went only so far, and Carter found himself protective of his new houseguest. He’d wait to see how well Bill Fargo worked out on the ranch before divulging to him Macy’s real identity.

“Thought you should know, I hired someone to keep an eye on the inn at night.”

Startled, Macy glanced up from arranging dinner plates on the kitchen table. She’d been deep in thought and hadn’t heard Carter come in.

“He’s an older man, but capable. You might see him around the ranch.”

Carter walked into the room, his deep Texas drawl drifting over her. He moved with lazy grace, his boots clicking on the stone floor until he was right beside her.

“I, uh, I thought it was safe here.”

“Usually it is. Nothing like this has happened before. Must’ve been some kids looking to get into mischief. A window was broken. Not a big deal. But being that you’re here now, couldn’t hurt to have some extra security.”

“Extra? What else do you have besides the fences and gates?”

She gazed into his clear hazel eyes. He smelled good, like raw earth and musk. He gave her a sly smile. “My men. Most of them carry handguns.”

Macy swallowed hard. She came from a place where owning guns was practically politically incorrect. “Why?”

“Rattlesnakes and rustlers.”

“You’re joking?”

Carter brushed her shoulder softly when he turned to get the pitcher of iced tea out of the refrigerator. He brought it over to the table. “You wouldn’t say that if you were staring into the beady eyes of a diamondback.”

She gasped. “Have you?”

He poured iced tea into two glasses. He set one by each of their plates. “At least a dozen times.”

She rubbed the shiver out of her arms. “I hate snakes.”

“They probably don’t like us too much, either. Hazards of ranching.”

“But this place is like a resort. I mean, you’ve got lovely grounds, gardens and pools. And a tennis court.”

Carter sipped his tea. “It’s all a facade.”

“Now you are joking.” Macy nibbled on her lower lip. She’d never thought, for one moment, that she wouldn’t be safe on the ranch. “You didn’t say anything about snakes when you showed me around the grounds the other day.”

“I was watching, don’t you worry.”

She thought back to how carefree she’d felt on that walk. “But you didn’t have a gun on you.” She paused and blinked. “Did you?”

“I had a knife.” Carter smiled and walked over to the stove top. “You’re not backing out on the ride, are you?”

“Oh, uh…” The thought had crossed her mind, but Macy rarely wimped out on anything, nude scenes excluded. “No. Don’t be silly. I still want to go.” A little tremor ran through her. “You’ll be armed, right?”

He laughed. “Yeah. But just so you know, it’s kinda hard getting bit by a snake atop a horse anyway.”

She remembered the movie Snakes on a Plane. If they could get on a plane…

Carter lifted the lid on the roasting pan. Mara had left them pot roast, potatoes and steamed vegetables. He took a whiff and made a sound of satisfaction. “Mmm. You ready to eat? I’m hungry.”

“It does smell good.”

Macy redirected her focus. She couldn’t think about guns and rattlesnakes over dinner. Her mind flashed to a few hours ago when Carter had joined her at the pool. Had she mistaken his innuendo? She didn’t think so.

Surely, he was still in love with Jocelyn. Even though she’d betrayed him, losing the person you wanted to spend your entire life with had to stay with you awhile.

Her mother had never gotten over her father’s death. She’d blamed him and had been angry at him for throwing all three of their lives away so easily. There were times Macy was sure her mother hated Clyde Tarlington.

With Carter lending a helping hand, the food was dished up and they ate quietly. He didn’t talk, fuss or drink while he was dining. He gobbled up his meal quickly, as if it was his last one. She’d once heard a friend who’d come from poverty say that eating quickly was a survival habit from childhood. Food had been a luxury, and she’d never known when or if she’d get the next meal.

Macy smiled at Carter. His plate was clean, while she still had half her meal remaining. “Did you always live at the ranch?” she asked.

He leaned back in his seat and folded his arms over his middle. “No. This was my uncle’s place. I lived with him on and off, until I was twelve. Then my uncle took me in permanently and I spent my teen years here. I learned ranching from him. Back then, the house was just three bedrooms and one bath and the herd was small but sturdy. My uncle did okay. He was a good man.”

“What happened to your mom and dad?”

Carter stared at her and shook his head. For a second she didn’t think he would answer. His face filled with pain he’d tried to cover up, but she saw through it. Maybe because she’d recognized the gesture—she’d been known to conceal her own pain at times.

She was sorry she’d asked about his parents, but before she could apologize for her curiosity, Carter gave her this much. “My mom died when I was eight. I remember her fighting with my dad almost every night. She’d be crying in her bed, and I would cry, too. Riley’s selfish and weak and drove my mother to an early grave.” Carter scrubbed his jaw, thinking and staring out the window. “He’s a drunk. Has always been a drunk.”

Those words hit home. She’d heard them spoken too often when her father was alive. The sick feeling she’d had as a kid invaded Macy’s stomach now. She wondered if Carter had had those very same feelings as a boy. She’d gathered he and his dad weren’t close. But she’d never guessed that she and Carter would have so much in common. “I get it.”

Carter shook his head hard. “Doubtful, Hollywood.”

“No, I mean I really get it. My father drove his car into a tree ten years ago. He was drunk out of his mind. He’d won big at the off-track betting venue and was celebrating hard. He was a drinker and a gambler. Back then, Clyde Tarlington’s death was big news. Surely, you’ve heard about it.”

Carter shrugged and shook his head. “I was overseas at the time. Was it hard on you?”

She nodded. “The worst. My mother went into a deep depression and couldn’t really deal with me. I was sixteen at the time.”

“That’s a tough age.”

“Tell me about it.”

Carter’s chair scraped stone as he pushed back and rose from his seat. Clearly, he was done with this conversation. “Hey, Duke and Honey are waiting for us. And they need the exercise as much as we need to clear our heads. You ready?”

“I’ve got my boots on, don’t I?” She kicked up one foot to show it off.

Carter glanced at the boots she’d bought in town the other day. Then he skimmed his eyes over blue jeans and the plain white shirt she wore and gave a nod of approval. “Let’s ride.”

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