Heart’s Secret

Heart’s Secret
Adrianne Byrd

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Dear Reader,

We hope you enjoy Heart’s Secret, the first book in Arabesque’s MATCH MADE series. Over the next three months we will introduce you to The Platinum Society, an exclusive matchmaking service run by Melanie Harte—a third-generation matchmaker—for wealthy, high-profile clients.

Discretion is the better part of romance, or so Melanie Harte believes when she sets up the rich and handsome banker Jaxon Landon with Zora Campbell, a former model who runs a successful company. Melanie has promised Jaxon’s grandmother that she will never reveal that she had a hand in getting Jaxon and Zora together. But can love last when it’s based on a little white lie? Let’s hope so.

In the months to come, look for Heart’s Choice by Celeste O. Norfleet and Heart’s Reward by Donna Hill to find out if The Platinum Society can help lovers find their soul mates and create matches made in heaven.

Evette Porter

Editor

Arabesque

Acknowledgments

To my dear and patient editor, Evette Porter. Your encouragement and support are never ending.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Prologue

Sag Harbor, New York

“We’re a love matchmaking service, not a sex matchmaking service, Mr. McElroy,” Melanie Harte said testily into the phone. “I don’t care if you have the fifty-thousand-dollar fee. I run a respectable and lawful business here. I’m not interested in becoming your pimp.”

Click.

Melanie jerked the phone from her ear. “How do you like that? Bastard hung up on me.” She placed the handset back into the cradle only to have it to immediately start ringing again. Exasperated, she glanced around the office. “Where in the hell is everybody?”

Riiingg.

“Good morning. Thank you for calling the Platinum Society. How can I help you?” Melanie Harte reached across her desk and picked up a gold pen, ready to jot down a message when she recognized the voice on the other end of the phone. “Ah, Mrs. Landon. How are you today?”

Outside Melanie’s home office, a low buzz of chattering voices pulled her attention away from the caller. She looked up, just in time to see her two beautiful nieces, Jessica and Veronica, laughing as they strolled into the office. Five minutes late.

“Morning,” they singsonged with bright smiles.

Melanie tapped her watch, but then her gaze shifted to the tall Starbucks coffees nestled in a cup holder. She started salivating as the coffee’s distinct heady aroma kicked her caffeine addiction into gear. Melanie smiled.

“Here. Before you start drooling.” Veronica chuckled, handing over one of the cups.

Melanie mouthed the words thank you and then accepted the warm cup of coffee. Not until after she’d taken the first sip did she remember that she still had Sylvia Landon chatting away in her right ear. “Uh, yes. Yes. I did receive your letter,” she informed the spirited eighty-two-year-old. “I had planned on calling you later today since I was just about to go into a morning meeting with the staff. Can I call you in—say, one hour?” She took another sip of coffee and sighed at how quickly her foggy brain was clearing up. “Let me just get your number.” She set the coffee down and quickly jotted Sylvia’s number on a pink pad. “Great. I’ll talk to you in an hour, Mrs. Landon.”

“Now, you know better than that,” the older woman reprimanded gently. “Call me Sylvia.”

“Sylvia it is,” Melanie agreed. “Call you back in an hour.” She ended the call, and then hit a button to forward all incoming calls to voice mail.

“Sylvia Landon?” Jessica asked, surprised. “Not the one that’s married to Carlton Landon?” she asked, ruffling through her tote bag.

“The one and only,” Melanie affirmed and took another long satisfying gulp of her coffee. “God, I wish I could pipe this stuff through an IV.”

“Who’s Carlton Landon?” Veronica asked, her gaze bouncing between her cousin and aunt.

Jessica retrieved the latest copy of Forbes magazine and thrust it toward her cousin. On the cover, a picture of a stern-faced Carlton Landon stood with his arms crossed and the cover line The New King of the Mountain.

Veronica whistled. “Now that’s an attractive older man.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Jessica said. “He’s also loaded.”

“Oh?”

“He’s so rich he could buy five Oprahs, three Will Smiths and still have money left over for a couple of Shaquille O’Neals.”

“Well, I ain’t mad at him.” Veronica laughed, still taking in the man’s perfectly groomed silver hair, intense dark eyes and stone-chiseled features. “I ain’t playin’. I’m really feeling this dude.”

“Wait ’til you see his grandson,” Melanie quipped and fanned herself with one hand. “Tall, caramel and handsome should be his first, second and last name.”

Veronica’s brows quirked up. “Caramel?”

“What can I say? Once they go black they don’t go back.”

“Hey!” Jessica held up her hand and gave her aunt a quick high five on that one.

Melanie added, “Sylvia Landon was also one of Grandma Harte’s first love matches.”

Jessica and Veronica’s eyes widened with that information. “Really?” As usual the cousins gobbled up any and all news about their legendary matchmaking grandma.

“That couldn’t have been an easy hook up back in those days,” Veronica concluded.

“Yeah. It’s been what—almost sixty years?” Melanie calculated in her head. “She was the best. Of course, I’m sure Grandma Harte never thought that she would be launching a business.”

“Business? You mean a family industry, don’t you?” Jessica said. “Considering that we’re the third-and fourth-generation millionaire matchmakers.”

Melanie conceded the point. The first Melanie Harte, a beautiful and unconventional woman of her time, played Cupid for the rich and lonely long before it was considered cool…and certainly before anyone realized it was a lucrative endeavor. Plus, she did it all without today’s modern technology and pricey Manhattan PR firms, Internet ads or an over-the-top reality show. Melanie Harte’s success came simply by word of mouth. Not to mention she held an astonishing marriage rate of 97 percent.

The current Melanie Harte was hot on her trail with 95 percent.

“Let’s have the meeting outside,” Melanie said, gathering up her folders and notepad. “It’s a beautiful morning.”

“Sounds good,” her nieces agreed.

The women moved through the immaculate and extravagant office to access the mansion’s wrap-around porch through the French doors. The salty air put an instant smile on Melanie’s face. She loved being out here, drinking in the picture-perfect post card view of pristine waters and sailboats moored in the harbor.

The generations-owned, three-storied mansion sat on two acres high on the harbor’s bluff. It had been photographed and serialized in numerous magazines and often hailed as an architectural and landscaping marvel with eye-popping gables, fifteen-foot ceilings, sunlit rooms, a conservatory, dock and boat slips, manicured lawns and a path leading to the beach and dock.

Quite simply, it was a dream house.

Once they were settled into the patio chairs, Melanie took another glance at her watch. “It’s past nine o’clock. Where’s Vincent?”

“Here I am,” Vincent announced, stepping out on the porch, coffee in hand. “Sorry I’m a little late. My wife was looking particularly sexy this morning so…well, you know how it is.” He hit them with a wink and a cheesy grin.

“TMI.” Veronica rolled her eyes and then shivered as if the thought of her brother having sex gave her the heebie jeebies.

“Amen,” Melanie and Jessica said.

Unfazed, Vincent chuckled his way over to one of the vacant whitewashed wicker chairs and plopped down. “So what have I missed?” Even though his official title was office manager, Vincent dabbled into other areas of the business’s operations. He kept the company’s books in tip-top shape and he was even known to make a couple of love matches himself—probably just to prove that he had the touch, too.

Young Jessica acted as the company’s concierge and Veronica showed a real knack for the business as an expert profiler. Melanie suspected that it was just a matter of time before Jessica started hounding her for the title of vice president—if such a title existed.

“All right. Let’s get started,” Melanie said, taking another sip of her coffee and then setting it aside.

“Melanie wheeled in a big one,” Jessica in formed Vincent.

“Oh?” Vincent’s brows jumped. “Anyone I might know?”

“Actually, yes,” Melanie informed him with a cocky smile. “Jaxon Landon.”

Vincent whistled low. “You’re kidding me.” He glanced toward Veronica and Jessica as if suspecting they were all playing a joke on him. “Midas Touch Jaxon is looking to settle down?”

“Apparently.” Melanie shook her head, hardly believing the news herself. “Unfortunately, Jaxon’s grandparents aren’t too thrilled about his choice.”

On cue her small staff blinked at her in confusion.

Melanie opened the folder on her lap and pulled out a lavender envelope and removed the matching stationery. “Let me read you the letter I received from Jaxon’s grandmother. It should explain everything.” She coughed and cleared her throat.

“Dear Melanie,

“I desperately need your help. My grandson has finally lost his mind. Yesterday, he had the nerve to inform the family that he was getting married. MARRIED! Now I know that you’re thinking that this should be exciting news, but let me tell you, dear, that it certainly is NOT! The young hussy that he wants to give our last name to is, of all things, a stripper! A STRIPPER! Trust me—my mother is rolling around, keening in her grave.

“You have to help me, Melanie. You’re my last hope in setting this boy straight. After all, it was your grandmother who was responsible for helping me find the love of my life and I’ve heard through the grapevine that your company, the Platinum Society, is doing a phenomenal job in continuing your family business of professional matchmaking. That is why I’m turning to you now. I know that you can help me. I don’t care how much it costs as long as the result is a nice, beautiful young lady with the proper upbringing and education. Someone who can calm my grandson’s rebellious side. I won’t lie to you. It won’t be easy. Jaxon likes to do things the hard way or no way at all. Simply put, he’s as stubborn as a mule—just like my husband.

“I sincerely hope that you will accept my solicitation. Again, I must stress that I am a desperate woman.

“P.S. If you do choose to help me, I must insist that you do so with discretion. Jaxon will absolutely hit the ceiling if he finds out that I’m sticking my nose into his business. But I trust that you’ll keep my secret.

“With much love, Sylvia Landon.”

Melanie Harte lifted her large brown eyes and smiled. “So what do you think?”

Jessica blew out a long steady breath. “Wow.”

After that, the continuing silence had Melanie wrinkling her button nose. “Is there a problem?”

Veronica drew a deep breath and brushed small strands of her long black hair from her angular face. Part of being the company’s expert profiler was vetting and screening the varied mix of millionaires who so often solicited their services. Veronica didn’t like third-party matchmaking—hell, none of them did.

“Well?” Melanie pushed.

Veronica glanced over at her brother as if mentally asking him to jump in—and he obliged.

Vincent cleared his throat. “It’s just that the man is already engaged. It doesn’t seem right that his grandmother is asking us to help break up a relationship in order to manipulate him into another one.”

Melanie inhaled a startled breath. “It’s not manipulating.”

His brows rose, while his full lips quirked up in amusement. “Oh? And what do you call it?”

Cornered, Melanie shrugged. “I’d say that we were simply presenting him with a few more options.” She smiled at her own quick thinking.

“You’re reaching, don’t you think?” Veronica chuckled.

Instead of answering, Melanie glanced back down at the letter.

Jessica waded in. “Is it just because of Sylvia Landon’s history with our company? Is that why you want to take this on?”

Melanie responded with sincere honesty. “Yes. Besides, I already talked to Grandma Melanie about this. She thinks it’s a good idea. Not only did she introduce Sylvia to Carlton, but they are also lifelong friends.”

“Humph!” Vincent shook his head. “I still don’t like the idea of us breaking up a relationship.”

“We’re not going to hold a gun to the man’s head.” Melanie laughed. “If he’s truly in love then he wouldn’t be tempted by the woman we select for him.”

“If?” Veronica asked. “You doubt he’s in love, too?”

Melanie chewed on her bottom lip as she mulled the question. The truth of the matter was that she knew and adored Sylvia Landon and the charity work she had done for the city of New York. She also knew her rebellious grandson Jaxon Landon and she, along with probably half the female population of New York, found it hard to believe the philandering playboy was turning over a new leaf for blissful matrimony—with, of all things, a stripper.

“Let’s just say that the jury is still out.” Her gaze darted back around the table where doubt and skepticism were clearly reflected on the faces of her small crew. “C’mon. You know the rules. I won’t do this unless we’re all in agreement.”

“But how are you going to set him up with someone without his knowledge—and keep his grandmother’s secret?”

“I won’t lie, it will be a challenge.” Melanie’s smile widened. “But you all know how I like a challenge—and a good secret.”

Chapter 1

“Zora, when are you gonna stop teasin’ and go out with a brotha?”

Zora Campbell looked up from her script and flashed Todd Brady a smile. Though her supermodel days were behind her, it was still a boost to her ego that men continued to go out of their way to try and impress her. “C’mon, Todd. You know the rules. I don’t date men I work with.”

“All right then. I quit,” he said, shrugging his mountainous shoulders and then spreading his LL Cool J–looking luscious lips into a wide smile. “There. That solves everything.”

“You can’t quit. I need you.” She poked out her bottom lip and fluttered her long lashes up at him.

Todd clutched a hand over his heart and sighed. “Ahhh. If only that was true.”

Zora laughed at his silly antics. “It is true. You’re the best PR man in the business. Without you I would’ve just been another washed-up supermodel being a guest judge on a reality show.”

Todd’s chest expanded with pride as he strolled confidently over to the vacant director’s chair. “Don’t be silly, Zora. You have the face of an angel and a body designed for sin. You will never be washed-up because you’ll never go out of style.”

She laughed and shook her head. “With you around, my ego will never be deflated.” She returned her attention to the thin script.

“Surely you know that thing backward and forward by now. It’s our tenth infomercial.”

“I do. I just get nervous before going on,” she admitted. “I’m always afraid that I’m going to forget something.”

“Relax. The Zora skin-care line is flying off the shelves. As well as the hair care line, perfume and jewelry line. America can’t get enough of you.”

“We both know this industry is fickle. There’s a thin line between can’t get enough and ‘Damn, girl. We’re starting to get sick of you.’ If you don’t believe me then go ask J. Lo and Beyoncé.”

“I would rather we ask Oprah and Tyra.”

“They have their fair share of haters, too,” Zora reminded him.

“Of course they do. You’re nobody until somebody hates you.”

“That’s an interesting way of looking at it.”

“In this biz, it’s the only way to look at it.” The familiar ring of his BlackBerry interrupted the conversation. “Excuse me for a moment.” He held up a finger and then reached inside his tailored Armani jacket and pulled out his phone. “Talk to me.”

Zora returned her attention to the ten-page script and didn’t look up until Todd was gone and the makeup artist was rushing over.

“You’re here early this morning, Ms. Campbell.”

“I’m always early, Beatrice. Force of habit.”

Beatrice beamed. “I didn’t think that you’d remember my name. This is only my second time working with you.”

“I also never forget a name.” Zora’s smile widened. She had impressed the young lady. Even that feat she counted as an accomplishment because she knew that most people expected her to be a certain way. Pretty but not too bright. It was far from the truth.

Zora came from a long line of accomplished academics. Her mother, Billie Campbell, was a Pulitzer prize–winning author and economist, and her father, Elliott, had been a Rhodes scholar. Zora was well on her way to following in their footsteps when she was discovered studying at an off-campus coffee shop. Deciding to sign with the Ford modeling agency had upset the family. Her parents didn’t approve of the lifestyle associated with modeling. Admittedly at that time, Zora had been seduced by all the trappings of fame. Easy money, VIP treatment and the possibility of the world knowing her name.

Upon signing, Zora had experienced a meteoric rise to the top six months after her first magazine spread. She made outrageous money for just smiling and playing dress up. It was fun while it lasted. But like all things, there was some bitter with the sweet.

For all of Zora’s book smarts, she wasn’t and probably could never have been prepared for fame’s dark side. There was the endless supply of drugs and alcohol at photo shoots and wild, over-the-top parties. She had seen other girls become addicts and fall victim to abusive relationships. Some managed to pull themselves together, some died and some were just plain lost.

After ten years in the biz, Zora took her bow and allowed the next generation of beauties to take the stage. She returned to college, collected her business degree and then readied herself for the next chapter in her life. Not until Todd Brady came along did she think that stage would still include her selling her face and name. Turns out there were millions of women who were dying to know her beauty secrets. So she packaged them into a jar, slapped her name on it and set it at a price point that even Walmart-going moms could afford, and the rest was multimillionaire history.

The assistant director popped his head into the room. “We’re taping in ten minutes, Ms. Campbell.”

“Thank you, Henry.” Zora drew a deep breath and steadied her nerves. It didn’t matter how many times she’d done this, she still got a little nervous being in front of a camera.

Beatrice finished working her makeup magic and gave Zora the last five minutes alone before she went out on set. However, thirty seconds in, there was a knock on the open door.

Zora glanced over her left shoulder and then laughed. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Melanie Harte beamed from the doorway. “I want to go on record that you have to be the hardest chick to find in Manhattan.”

“Apparently not too hard.” Zora stood up from her chair and met Melanie halfway across the small room for a tight, heartfelt hug. “How have you been doing, girl?”

“Fine. Fine. Like you. Busy as ever.” Melanie, a fashionista herself, rocked a cute off-white pantsuit and a sharp pixie cut. In the fifteen years Zora had known Melanie, the woman didn’t look like she had aged a day. Zora had the stray thought that maybe Melanie should get into the business of selling her beauty secrets.

“I dropped by hoping I could take you to lunch.”

“Today?” Zora blinked, trying to think what she had on her schedule. Most likely she was loaded down with meetings and appointments. Mainly because that was how it was every day.

“C’mon. Say yes. It’s been months since we’ve gotten together and just girl-talked.”

Henry reappeared in the doorway. “Two minutes, Ms. Campbell.”

“I’ll be right there.” Zora glanced back down at her friend and felt the tug of playing hooky.

“Don’t front. You know you want to,” Melanie pressed.

“All right. All right.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s going to take about two hours to film this twenty-minute infomercial. I can call—”

“How about I wait here on the set?”

Zora blinked. “You want to wait?”

“Sure. Why not?”

Zora’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What are you up to?”

“Huh? What? Nothing.” She tried to cover with a bright smile, but it only made her look guilty.

“Ms. Campbell, we need you on set.”

“I’m coming.” She moved toward the door, but then stopped. “I’ll go to lunch with you, Mel, but don’t think I don’t know you’re up to something.”

“Who? Me?” Melanie batted her long lashes at her friend.

“Please. You ought to know better. That’s my signature move.” She wagged her finger. “You’re definitely up to something.”

Melanie pressed her lips together in order to remain mum.

Zora laughed. “All right. I’ll go to lunch with you but whatever else you have in mind, my answer is no.” Zora winked at her friend and rushed to the set.

Melanie stayed behind with a huge smile on her face. “We’ll just see about that.”

“You know you’re going to hell for lying to that sweet old man,” Kitty Ervin warned with a wave of her finger. She softened the admonishment with a smile. In the three years she had known Jaxon Landon she couldn’t remember a time she could ever stay mad at the sexy multimillionaire. In fact, it was hard enough just to be in the same room without having the impulse to rip off his clothes and try to screw his brains out.

“Sweet old man?” Jaxon Landon chuckled as he sat down behind his office desk and pulled out his checkbook. “You can’t possibly be talking about my grandfather.”

“Of course I am,” Kitty insisted, leaning a hip against his sturdy mahogany desk. “Despite your efforts to inform your family of my lucrative career choice, every five minutes, your grandmother was nothing but kind to me the entire time I was there.”

“My grandmother, yes. Carlton—that’s a horse of another color.” Jaxon’s rich laughter filled the large office. At six foot four and caramel candy–coated, Jaxon Landon managed the impossible feat of being both pretty-boy fine and alpha-male rugged at the same time. He was always immaculately groomed from head to toe, and the way he walked exuded a certain wild and dangerous grace. And his voice! His voice alone had the power to weaken the strongest sistah’s knees.

“Besides, old money is nothing if not civil. It’s what is being said behind closed doors that really matters. Trust me. My grandmother is likely crying to everyone who’ll listen that her mother is rolling around in her grave—no—rolling around, keening in her grave at the very thought of me marrying a stripper. I love her dearly, but she does tend to be overly dramatic from time to time.” He laughed, shaking his head.

Kitty’s back stiffened. She wasn’t ashamed of her profession. It was the idea that someone thought it eliminated her from landing someone like Jaxon Landon. Just because he was the new “Prince of Wall Street” and was cloaked in money, power and respect didn’t mean that he was out of her league. It just meant that she would have to step up her game.

Jaxon noticed that Kitty’s playful smile had vanished. He lowered his gold pen and rose from his chair. Jaxon kept forgetting people—mainly women—tended to be thrown off by his bluntness. He smiled as he moved around the desk. When he placed his large hands on her small shoulders and started massaging, he could tell by her twinkling eyes that all had been forgiven. “Sorry, Kitty. But I warned you before you accepted the job not to take anything that happened personally. My family can be closed minded and cruel sometimes.”

She laughed, and then spoke before thinking. “It’s not your family you should be apologizing for.”

Jaxon’s hands stilled on her shoulders. “What do you mean?”

Kitty mentally kicked herself. “Nothing.” She gently shrugged off his hands and moved from the desk. “My check?”

Jaxon couldn’t let such a flippant comment go. “Are you saying you thought I was somehow being unreasonable?”

Kitty really didn’t want to get into it. After all, it was none of her business whatever drama went on between him and his family. Chances were that she would never see them again anyway. Plus, she didn’t want to piss off Jaxon to the point that he would stop coming to the Velvet Rope. The women that competed for his attention grew more fierce every time he showed up. As it was, she was already the envy of every dancer in the place. Mainly because she had the advantage of knowing that it took more than big breasts, a slim waist, onion booty and a pretty face to grab and hold his attention.

Jaxon was an unusual client when it came to his visits to the gentlemen’s clubs. He wasn’t there to zero in on certain body parts. No. He generally enjoyed the art. He was particularly fond of the burlesque style as opposed to straight grinding on a pole and booty poppin’ in a sequined string thong.

Smiling, Kitty leaned forward and let her expensive breasts press against his chest. “I would never suggest that you were ever unreasonable,” she assured, blowing her strawberry scented breath up at him. “You have to be the kindest, most generous man I know.” And she meant it. Jaxon Landon was known for many things: a son of a bitch when it came to business, dangerous when it came to those who crossed him and a heartbreaker when it came to women who had the misfortune of falling in love with him.

But the one thing very few people knew about him was that he genuinely had a heart of gold when it came to people he cared about. It was no accident that she was the one to land the ten-thousand-dollar job to pretend to be his fiancée for the weekend. Kitty knew that word had gotten around the club about her grandmother’s increasing medical bills.

Last week she was sobbing into her pillow, worried about where she was going to come up with an extra ten grand for her grandma’s surgery and then the next thing she knew, Jaxon was on her doorstep with a job for the exact amount of money she needed. That day she swore she could see a halo encircling the man’s head.

And now, she had just insulted him.

“Then what are you saying?” Jaxon asked, standing up straighter.

“Oh, you know,” she said, trying to stall.

Jaxon’s smile flatlined while he waited.

Cornered, Kitty licked her lips and tried to swallow the growing lump in her throat. Whenever Jaxon leveled his intense mahogany eyes on someone, it had all the potency of drinking a bottle of truth serum. “I just meant that you seemed more…tense when you’re around your grandparents,” she confessed. “Once or twice, you may have come off a little short.” She shrugged and then tried laughing. “But, hey, I’m the same way around my folks. I don’t understand them and they certainly don’t understand me.”

The office grew as silent as a tomb for two seconds. The longest two seconds of Kitty’s life. It wasn’t that she feared that Jaxon would suddenly erupt and fly off the handle. He would never do that. It wasn’t his style. It was all about his expressions and body language. A flicker of disappointment from him had the same effect as a parent scolding a child and whenever his beautiful eyes narrowed it was like a dagger piercing a heart. And if his rich baritone dipped to a rumbling bass, you knew your ass was in serious trouble.

Then out of the blue, Jaxon’s smile was back. His perfect pearly white teeth and full, luscious lips had a way of making her feel like Cupid’s bow had pierced her heart. It was crazy how easily Jaxon could turn her on. It was like flicking on a light switch. More than anything, she wished that she meant more to him than just a plaything.

“You’re right,” Jaxon admitted, chuckling. “I do tend to get…worked up around Carlton.” He pivoted and returned to his chair to finish writing her check.

“May I ask you something?” she ventured.

“Of course you can.”

“Why do you call your grandfather Carlton?”

“It’s his name, isn’t it?” He finished his signature with a flurry and then pulled the single check from its leather-bound book. “Here you go, m’dear. Ten thousand dollars. Not bad for two days of putting up with my unreasonable, short temper.” There, he got in his jab.

Just then, Jaxon’s secretary, Janine, buzzed in over the intercom. “Mr. Landon, Richard Myers is here to see you.”

What in hell could he possibly want? Jaxon rolled his eyes. “Send him in.”

Kitty reached over and accepted the check. “Thank you.” She folded it several times and then stuffed it in between her huge tits. “It’s been a pleasure. Call me again whenever you’re in need of a fiancée.” She gave him another quick smile and then headed toward the door. “So when will I see you again?”

“Just when you begin to miss me,” he teased.

“I’ll miss you as soon as I walk out of the door,” she volleyed back at him.

“Then I guess I’ll see you at the Velvet Rope tonight,” he said.

Kitty’s heart skipped a beat. “Is that a promise?”

Jaxon winked. “Absolutely.”

She turned, opened the door and nearly smacked into Richard Myers.

“Well, hello there, Kitty,” Richard greeted coolly. “I didn’t know you did house calls.”

Kitty smiled at Jaxon’s number-one rival—in everything from looks, women and business. The man took competition to a whole new level and didn’t care who knew it. Kitty didn’t mind it so much, since it meant twice the haters and two rich, gorgeous men lavishing her with money and gifts.

“Really, Richard. You should get your mind out of the gutter,” she teased playfully. “I’ll see you tonight, Jaxon,” she said, tossing him a final wink. The comment was for Richard as well as Jaxon and if her calculations were correct, she would be seeing Richard tonight at the club, too. “G’bye, you two.” She gave them a dainty wave and practically floated out of the office.

Richard stood at the door and watched Kitty’s rear view until she disappeared from the office lobby. Then he turned his sly smile toward Jaxon. “She’s quite a woman, isn’t she?”

Instead of answering, Jaxon relaxed behind his desk. “So what brings you here, Dick?”

Richard’s smile only stretched wider as he closed Jaxon’s office door and casually strolled over to the bar. “Oh, I was in the neighborhood and thought that I would come by and congratulate you on the Culberson deal. It must have been an awfully reliable bird that told you that they were in talks with Microsoft.”

Jaxon kept his face neutral while he mentally patted himself on the back for putting the pieces of a very large puzzle together on his own. “Oh, I don’t know. I’d say it was just a lucky guess.”

A smile slithered across Richard’s face while he poured himself some of Jaxon’s good brandy. “Let you tell it, you’re the luckiest sonofbitch in New York.”

“Maybe I am,” he said, holding his straight face.

A muscle twitched just below Richard’s right eye. A telltale sign of what the man was really thinking and feeling—which was also the reason Jaxon always beat the man at poker.

Some things were too easy.

“You want to know what I think?” Richard asked, taking his glass and making his way over to the empty chair in front of Jaxon’s desk.

“The better question is, ‘Do I care?’”

“I think,” Richard went on, “that you have an inside track on what’s going on.”

Jaxon glared. “That’s one helluva accusation.”

Richard’s devious smile stretched almost from ear to ear. “Come now. I’m not accusing you of anything…yet.” He sipped his drink. “Then again. It could be just like you said.” He met Jaxon’s stony gaze. “You’re lucky.”

The room thickened with a deadly tension, but the ever cool Jaxon waited out his adversary.

“Anyway, congratulations are in order.” Richard drained the rest of his brandy and got back to his feet. “We all can’t make ninety million in a day.” He purposely set his empty glass on Jaxon’s desk and headed back toward the door. “See you around, Jax.”

“Sure thing, Dick.”

Richard only chuckled as he made his grand exit.

Jaxon waited until the door slammed closed before muttering under his breath. “I really hate that asshole.”

Chapter 2

“Hell, no,” Zora said, and then proceeded to laugh in Melanie’s face. “What did you do, fall and bump your head?”

Melanie laughed, as well. “I know it may sound crazy…”

Zora cocked a brow. “It may?”

Melanie tried again. “Okay. It is crazy. But come on. Humor me. I’ve got a feeling about this.”

“Oh. One of your feelings.” Zora made air quotes and a look that said Melanie had lost her damn mind. “No offense, Mel. But I’m not sure I even get what it is that you do. Rich men pay you to find them women. Isn’t there another word for that? Starts and ends with a P?”

“You’re not funny,” Melanie said. “Why are you giving me grief about this? It’s not like you’re dating someone.” She frowned. “Are you?”

“If I said yes, would you drop this ridiculous idea?”

“Probably after I ran a background check on the guy.”

Zora laughed as she reached for her wineglass. “That would be funny if it weren’t probably true.”

“We’ll never know since you never date.”

Stunned, Zora set her glass back down. “What are you talking about? I date.”

“Yeah. Every full moon.” Melanie shook her head at such a waste. “And I don’t get it. Everywhere you go men are asking you out, but you never accept.”

Indignant, Zora sputtered, “That’s not true.”

“Excuse me, ladies,” their waiter interrupted as he returned to their table with a new bottle of wine. He showed Zora the label.

“What’s that? We didn’t order more wine,” Zora said.

The waiter smiled. “Yes, ma’am. The bottle is compliments of the gentleman over at the bar.” He popped the cork.

Melanie’s and Zora’s gazes followed the direction their waiter indicated with the tilt of his head to where a tall, handsome brotha lifted his glass and winked. The women smiled their thanks and then glanced at one another.

“See?” Melanie said.

“Whoa. We don’t know if the bottle was for me, you or both of us,” Zora reasoned.

The waiter cut in. “Mr. Blackburn asked that I also give you this, Ms. Campbell.” He held out the gold-embossed business card. “And to tell you that he enjoys your work.”

Zora accepted the card while Melanie sat back with an I-told-you-so expression. “That doesn’t count,” Zora said. “Fans do things like that all the time. It’s flattering but—” she shrugged “—they’re more in love with an image. You know. You’ve been there.”

Melanie had indeed been there. In her early twenties, she, too, had been on the fast track in the high-fashion world of modeling. In fact, she and Zora met and were roommates in a Manhattan apartment building that housed young models back in the day. Within minutes of meeting, the two women fell into an easy friendship that lasted over the years.

“Then in that case,” Melanie continued, “you should trust me to find you someone that won’t be intimidated by your money or fame.”

“I don’t know. This whole thing still has a pimpish feel to it.”

Melanie rolled her eyes. This isn’t gonna be easy.

The waiter poured the ladies two new glasses of wine and instructed them to “Enjoy.”

They both flashed him a brief butterfly smile and then fell silent as Zora read and then reread the business card. Either she was contemplating calling the brotha or tossing the card like she normally did.

“Soooo.” Melanie picked up her fork and stabbed a few vegetables in her salad. “Are you going to call him?”

“Yes,” Zora decided, but then countered. “Maybe.” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“See?” Melanie dropped her fork and shook her head. “Why do you do that? You always shut the door on opportunity.”

“Please don’t lecture. I didn’t bring my bottle of Excedrin.”

Melanie kept charging ahead. “A career is great, Zora. But it won’t warm your bed at night.”

Zora laughed. “You’re a fine one to talk.” She reached across the table and grabbed Melanie’s right hand. “I don’t see a ring on your finger, Ms. Millionaire Matchmaker. Don’t you think you’re being just a little hypocritical?”

“We’re not talking about me,” Melanie said, a bit more testily than she liked.

“Maybe we should talk about you.” Zora wasn’t going to relent now that she had an opening to get her dear, but nosy and pushy, friend off her back. “I mean…shouldn’t you lead by example?”

“Hold up. That’s not fair. I’m a widow,” Melanie countered. “Or have you forgotten that?”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten.” Zora released her hand, but then chose her next words carefully and softly. “But Steven has been gone for quite a while.”

Melanie reached for her wine. “It doesn’t feel like it was all that long ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Zora said contritely. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Melanie drew a deep breath and tried to force the memories back where they belonged—in the past. She needed to focus on the matter at hand and that was pulling off the miracle of getting Zora Campbell and Jaxon Landon together. For now she would have to chalk this day up as a loss. She had lost control of the conversation and she would have to approach the subject another time and in another way. But no worries. Melanie wasn’t the type to give up so easily.

“So I hear you’re getting married,” Dale Forrester yelled above the Velvet Rope’s pulsing hip-hop bass before he invited himself to plop down at Jaxon’s private booth with his usual double Scotch sloshing in his left hand. “When I heard, I couldn’t fuckin’ believe it so I figured that I would come and get it straight from the horse’s mouth.”

Relaxed and dressed head to toe in casual, black Valentino, Jaxon favored his old friend and mentor with a lopsided grin. “Do you come bearing gifts?”

“Hell, no,” he half slurred. “I came to beat some sense into you.” Lately Dale’s face seemed to be permanently flushed a deep burgundy. Either it was way too much booze or rising cholesterol. Jaxon didn’t know which, so he constantly hounded his friend about both.

Each time, Dale just waved off any and all health concerns. He didn’t like being preached to and only mildly tolerated it from Jaxon.

“Please tell me that it’s nothing but a nasty rumor and then maybe I can get back to living my life vicariously through you—such as it was.” He turned up his drink and drained the contents in one long gulp.

Amused, Jaxon took a swig of his own whiskey sour and cast a lazy glance toward the exotic dancer working the pole. She wore a bit too much makeup, but he could tell that she at least had some formal dance training.

“So what’s the story?” Dale asked, pulling Jaxon’s attention back from the stage. “Are you walking the single’s man plank or what?”

Jaxon considered toying with the man, but there was such a desperate hope twinkling in his eyes that he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. “Chill, old man. I’m not engaged.”

A broad, goofy grin broke across Dale’s face. “Sweetheart,” he yelled out to a passing waitress and held up his empty glass. “Another round. Happy days are here again.”

Jaxon laughed. It was what he did whenever he and Dale partied together. For all the man’s talk of idolizing Jaxon and his Midas touch when it came to business, Jaxon knew it was more because Dale remembered a time when he was hailed as the Prince of Wall Street. Unfortunately, his reign was shorter than he’d liked and it all ended with him serving some jail time. For the most part, the friends avoided both subjects. However, Jaxon was determined to learn from his friend’s mistakes and he made sure that all his dealings were aboveboard.

Given all the temptations of Wall Street, it was harder than it sounded.

“I shoulda known to have more faith in you.” Dale winked, plopping a fat ice cube into his mouth and then chomping away as if he was munching on a handful of M&M’s. “Take it from me, marriage is highly overrated and expensive to boot.”

“Better not let Mrs. Forrester hear you talking like that.”

“Trust me. I’m not telling you nothing she doesn’t know or hear from me on a regular basis. Destiny married me for my money and she’ll divorce me for my money one of these days. That or she’ll kill me for it.”

“You poor, miserable soul.” Jaxon chuckled, and then cast another fleeting glance toward the stage in time to see Gemini do a classic V swing, stand, drop it real low and back her luscious behind toward the crowd of panting customers. Benjamins rained down onto the stage and Gemini continued working her hips like the rent was due in the morning.

“God bless her,” Dale muttered under his breath and then wiped the side of his mouth for a drool check. “I swear that girl makes me want to put her momma on my Christmas list.”

Jaxon suppressed a grin with another gulp of whiskey. He smiled when he finally felt his afternoon buzz kick in. In fact, all that was missing was a fat Cuban cigar and busty temptress to end another trying day.

“Your drinks, gentlemen.” Honey flashed them each a radiant smile and then set their new drinks on the table before them.

Jaxon and Dale took the opportunity to appreciate their favorite waitress’s large glitter-dusted breasts and caramel-capped nipples.

“Can I get you two anything else?” she asked, centering her twinkling gaze on Jaxon. “Anything at all?”

The corners of Jaxon’s lips curved upward. “I think we’re good.”

“Speak for yourself,” Dale countered gruffly and then smacked a crisp hundred-dollar bill on top of the table. “Junior and I are in the mood for a lap dance.”

Jaxon didn’t correct him because everyone—or rather all the regulars—knew Dale referred to his small dick as Junior. There was never any shame to his game, either. He laughed at small dick jokes and would crack a few himself. If there was any time that Jaxon grew uncomfortable with his friend’s self-deprecating humor, it was when Dale kept talking about his dick as if it was a separate entity. Dale was always going with, “Junior was looking for a nice warm place to sleep for the night” or “Junior was just standing up to say hello” or “Junior and I was talking last night.”

Jaxon used to find Dale and Junior’s stories hilarious. Now, since a night didn’t pass without Junior being mentioned, Jaxon worried whether Dale and Junior were getting a little too close. (If that made any sense.)

Despite the fact that Honey was supposed to be waitressing, she set her small tray down and instantly started rocking and swinging her hips in perfect time to Beyoncé’s latest jam. One of Dale’s silly grins slid into place as he watched the up close and personal action prance in front of him, tempting and seducing him to reach for his wallet again.

Jaxon split his attention between Gemini and Honey and realized that he held their attention, as well. Gemini took a deep bend at the waist, wiggled her gorgeous brown behind and tossed Jaxon a smile. To his right, Honey shimmied her gravity-defying tits in Dale’s face while giving Jaxon the anytime-anyplace look.

Jaxon smoothly gave both women an appreciative smile that neither encouraged nor discouraged their pursuit. It was a gift. His mother used to brag endlessly about him being a born charmer. He couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t love or more importantly when women didn’t love him. In his adolescent days he played doctor so much it was assumed that he would become one.

He didn’t, but he still played one from time to time.

“Well, if it isn’t my lovable fiancé,” Kitty cooed as she sauntered over to the small table. For Honey’s benefit, she lazily but very dramatically draped an arm around Jaxon’s shoulders. “Glad to see that you could make it.”

“Of course.” Jaxon smiled. “You know I always keep my promises.”

Kitty’s smile broadened as she eased down onto his lap. “In that case, what do you say to you and me hooking up after the show?”

“I’d say I love to,” he admitted, running a finger beneath her chin.

Kitty lit up like a Christmas tree.

“But—I can’t. I’m flying out of the city tonight right after I watch your set.”

Caught between disappointment and flattery, Kitty’s smile faltered. There wouldn’t be any point in complaining or pouting. That would be the fastest way to chase Jaxon Landon away. She had been playing her cards right all this time, she wasn’t about to screw it up now.

“Well, I’m glad you made it tonight.” She caught sight of Bishop nodding his head, signaling for her to get ready for her number. The only problem was that she was all too comfortable leaning against Jaxon’s firm muscled chest. Not only did he feel good, but he smelled divine.

Jaxon glanced at his Rolex. “Showtime.”

Reluctantly, Kitty climbed out of his lap but then caught sight of Richard Myers coming in the door. The man was as predictable as the seasons. “Well, it looks like I have another fan tonight.”

Jaxon followed Kitty’s line of vision and felt his general good mood take a nosedive.

“Oh, cheer up. You could do with a little competition,” Kitty said and sashayed her way backstage.

“Yeah. You could do with a little competition.” Dale chuckled under his breath as he slid one last Benjamin between Honey’s string thong at the end of her dance.

“Thank you, baby.” She blew him an air kiss, but tossed a wink over her shoulder at Jaxon.

Dale caught the sly move and sighed. “Fifteen hundred dollars down the tube.”

Jaxon grinned. “I don’t know. It seems like you were enjoying it to me.”

“My dick is hard if that’s what you mean.” Dale smirked. “But it doesn’t mean that I’m going to get any tonight.”

“I don’t know.” Jaxon shrugged. “You could always go home and screw your wife for once.”

Dale laughed. “I might have a pocket full of Viagra, but that doesn’t mean that I’m that desperate.”

Jaxon’s head rocked back with a rumbling laugh. “You’re a complicated man, Dale. No doubt about that.”

“Speaking of complicated, when the hell are you going to fill me in on this vicious rumor circulating around town?”

Jaxon’s smile ballooned. “It’s a long story.”

“You’re in luck. I like bedtime stories.”

Jaxon shrugged and leaned forward. “Let’s just say it’s a little joke at my grandfather’s expense. I took Kitty up to my grandparents’ place this weekend. Figured I’d try to get them off my back about settling down by bringing a woman they would never approve of as my fiancée. I never knew a man could turn so many different shades of purple.”

“Should’ve known.” Dale’s smirk stretched into a callous grin. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you and Carlton are two peas in a pod.”

“Don’t even joke about something like that.”

“The truth is an inconvenient thing, my brotha. Inconvenient indeed.”

“Hello, gentlemen,” Richard said after finally making his way over to the table. “Mind if I grab a seat?”

“Knock yourself out,” Jaxon said, determined to be unfazed by the intrusion.

But Richard had a sixth sense when he was gettin’ under Jaxon’s skin and he reveled in it as he took his seat.

As if to spare them from having any further conversation, the club’s music changed and the main attraction got underway. Jaxon gladly turned his attention toward the stage. Kitty stretched out a long, curvy leg from behind a red curtain. Every man in the joint hooted and whistled their approval only for Kitty to pull the leg back as if she was suddenly too shy. The next time there was a little more leg, plus the curve of her hip. A very nice hip at that.

“The girl is a pro,” Dale praised. “I’m getting so hard, I just might have to go home and screw my wife.”

Jaxon laughed. “God forbid.”

“All right, so he’s good-looking,” Zora said, handing back the Forbes magazine, and then surrendering herself to the wonderful massage Alejandro was performing on her back and shoulders. This was day two of Melanie’s relentless campaign.

“Don’t forget rich,” Melanie reminded her as she too let her eyes drift while a hunky masseur worked knots out of places she had long forgotten existed.

“C’mon, Mel. You oughta know by now that I’m not impressed by a man’s bank account. The brotha I want in my life has to have a good heart and won’t feel threatened by a strong woman with her own bling. I’m so over men who try to make me feel bad for being independent.”

Melanie laughed. “Oh, I musta hit the sistagirl nerve. I feel ya.”

Zora chuckled. “Nah, girl. I’m just keepin’ it real. I get more grief from men about the money I’m pullin’ down than a little bit. The few relationships I have been in all start the same. ‘Baby, you know I looove you,’” she imitated with fake, deep baritone. “‘I don’t care about you making that long money. Just long as you’re bringing all that sweet lovin’ to me.’”

Melanie cracked up.

“Don’t act like I’m the only one. You’re not exactly broke, either.”

One side of Melanie’s lips quirked up. “I realize as successful women, we have a unique set of hurdles to deal with. But we can get over them.”

Zora peeled open one eye to stare at the friend lying on the massage table next to her. In the brief silence that followed, she thought how hypocritical Melanie was.

“I’m telling you, Zora. You and Jaxon Landon will hit it off,” Melanie insisted, hammering the wild idea that Zora was the perfect woman to really reel in Jaxon Landon. Of course she was going on nothing more than a hunch, but her hunches had a 95 percent batting average. There was also a lot of luck riding on this, too. Zora was perhaps one of the few women in elite New York circles who hadn’t gotten wind of Jaxon’s reputation.

And what a reputation it was.

The women who had been with Jaxon had described him as a certified sex freak and bragged that he had a libido to put the Energizer bunny to shame. He wasn’t opposed to doing it anytime and anyplace. Normally, Melanie wouldn’t take on a client with such a voracious sexual appetite. They were usually too hard, if not impossible, to tame.

But to Zora, there was just something about Melanie’s instincts that told her she was on the right track. The two women had met back in Melanie’s brief stint modeling. She had liked Zora instantly. She wasn’t like the other girls in the house where they lived with other models. She had a real brain in her head and it didn’t surprise her in the least at just how fast the world and the fashion industry fell in love with her. It also didn’t surprise her that Zora turned the platform into an enormous business opportunity.

“Just meet him,” Melanie said, sounding sooo close to begging. “What harm is there in just meeting the man?”

Zora released a long sigh. Her resistance was starting to wear down.

“It can be at a party. You come separately and leave separately. We can make it as casual as you want.”

Another sigh.

“Trust me.” Melanie made one last desperate plea. “You’ll thank me for it at your wedding.”

Zora laughed at the unlikely notion.

“There’s just one thing.”

“Aha! I knew there was a catch. What is it? He has a tribe of children by half a dozen women?”

“It’s nothing like that.” Melanie frowned and then pulled herself up into a sitting position while clutching her towel.

Zora picked up her friend’s hesitation and felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. “All right. Then what?”

Melanie shrugged as if to suggest that it really wasn’t such a big deal. “I just need for you not to tell him…you know.”

Zora signaled for Alejandro to stop rubbing her shoulders. “No. I don’t know. Why don’t you just spit it out?”

“Let’s just say that Jaxon doesn’t know that I’m setting this…meeting up.”

Zora closed her eyes to prevent herself from rolling them out the back of her head. “A blind date? You’re trying to set up a blind date?”

Melanie’s smile returned and grew even wider. “Remember. You’ll thank me on your wedding day.”

Zora’s eyes rolled again. “Something tells me that I highly doubt that.”

Chapter 3

Jaxon was not looking forward to his grandparents’ sixtieth wedding anniversary.

It didn’t help that he’d almost forgotten about it. It was his crack secretary, Janine, who had cleared his schedule, bought a gift and reminded him that he would probably need to rehire his fake fiancée for a repeat performance or come up with a plausible lie to why Kitty was a no-show.

It was an irritating inconvenience, but one that he would grin and bear for at least a couple of hours.

When he placed a call backstage to the Velvet Rope, Kitty reacted to his invitation like she had just won the lottery. In a way maybe she did. He’d promised her a cool $5K for the night. No, he didn’t need to pay for a date, but knowing Kitty’s financial situation with her grandma made him feel like he wasn’t such a hard-ass like many believed. Plus, he would get another kick out of seeing Carlton sputter and stew in his own indignation.

It would probably be the highlight of his night.

He left his Manhattan high-rise a little past six o’clock, already anxious for the night to speed by. In his apartment lobby, Alfred tipped his hat and wished him a good evening. Jaxon highly doubted that was even possible.

Kwan, his new twenty-one-year-old driver, greeted him at the curb with his Maybach 62. He wore a penguin suit that looked as though it was three sizes too big and a hat that looked even bigger than that. Each time Jaxon saw the kid, he questioned his decision to hire him, but there was just something about the young man’s exuberance for the job that won him over.

Of course, the brother also tried his patience with his incredible knack for getting lost in a city he claimed to have lived in his entire life. That took a certain talent. And Jaxon could just forget about Kwan reading or understanding the GPS system in the car. Words like south, east, west or north were all met with the same blank stare. And if Jaxon combined them, southeast, northwest, Kwan looked ready to cry. So it was just best to keep it simple with oldies but goodies like make a left or a right that garnered the best results.

An hour later they made it to Brooklyn with only two wrong turns to which Jaxon had to listen to a ten-minute nonstop apology. Kitty must’ve been waiting by the door, because the bell hadn’t stopped jingling when she jerked it open and greeted him with a Texas-size smile.

The only thing that Jaxon wished that Janine had reminded him to do was tell Kitty to dress conservatively. As it was, she wore a cream-colored sequined dress that fortunately or unfortunately turned transparent when the light hit it. Since he was sure that his grandparents still had the habit of paying their electric bill, there just might be a problem with Kitty’s attire.

Then again…didn’t he hire the curvaceous stripper to be provocative?

“You don’t like my dress?” Kitty guessed after a full minute of him dragging his roaming eyes over her body. She prepared for his usual sly criticism only to be blown away by his devastating smile.

“On the contrary. I think you look ravishing.” He offered her his arm, and then seemingly produced a single red rose out of thin air. “Shall we go?”

It was on the tip of Kitty’s mouth to say that she would follow Jaxon anywhere, but she reined in her childlike fantasy and just accepted his proffered arm with a practiced innocent smile. “After you.”

In the car, Jaxon gave Kwan his grandparents’ address only to be met with a wide-eyed blank stare.

Jaxon huffed out a weary breath. “Take a right at the corner.”

“Right, boss.” Kwan started to pull away from the curb only to be blasted by the horn of a passing Bentley.

“We would like to get there in one piece, if you don’t mind,” Jaxon added.

“Right, boss. I’m on it, boss.”

Kwan tried it again.

Another horn blared, but Kwan forced his way into the lane and then flashed his thanks by giving them all a two-finger salute.

Jaxon covered his brow with his hand and tried to massage away the tension headache before it started. During the hour-plus drive out to the Hamptons, Kitty and Jaxon shared stiff smiles over a few glasses of champagne. But for the most part Jaxon allowed his mind to wander back in time. Back to when he was nothing more than a skinny thirteen-year-old kid being forced to live with grandparents he hardly knew.

Jaxon’s father, Carlton Jr., had himself rebelled against his father’s stern, iron hand to forge his own path in the world. His dropping out of Harvard caused a rift between father and son that lasted until the day Jaxon’s parents were killed in a tragic home invasion. It was just lucky that Jaxon had been spending the night at a friend’s house the evening of his parents’ murder. Otherwise, he would have been home in his own bed, just like his parents had been when two felons broke in the back door and took the most important people in Jaxon’s young life.

They say that time heals all wounds—but that was a lie. He missed his parents more today than ever. And the eight years he spent living with his grandparents was like a slow death unto itself. Well, he would be stretching the truth if he included his grandmother. He loved his grandmother. And one of the things he loved most about her was that she knew how and when to stay out of his business.

As far as he was concerned, his grandmother was a class act. He put her beauty and grace high on a pedestal. She was a great confidante, cheerleader and referee between him and Carlton. She never once pressured him into doing anything or becoming anything. Sure, she could get carried away from time to time, feeling faint, needing smelling salts and swearing that her heart could go at any minute. But it was all done with such theatrics that no one really took such declarations seriously.

But Carlton had the ability to get under Jaxon’s skin and ride his last nerve effortlessly. Thinking back on it, they had been butting heads from the start, almost as if Jaxon was born to pick up just where his father had left off.

Jaxon was convinced that when Carlton looked at him, he only saw his mother’s black skin. Carlton’s disapproval of Jaxon’s parents’ marriage was evident and documented when he didn’t bother to attend their wedding in Johannesburg. Carlton was also missing in pictures when Jaxon was born in Los Angeles—or any other special occasion in Jaxon’s adolescent years.

Sylvia was there. Always pleading for her son to forgive his father, but never receiving it. Both Carltons were stubborn as mules. It was an unfortunate gene that Jaxon now picked up.

“Are we almost there?” Kitty asked, shifting in her seat. “I have to go to the little girl’s room.” She set her empty flute down in a holder and then reached for her clutch to retouch her lipstick.

Jaxon performed a cursory glance outside the car window. “We should be there in a few minutes.” To be honest, he was a little relieved himself. He never cared for long car rides. They always made him feel as if he was wasting time. Not that he needed to dedicate every minute of the day to making big investment moves, but he needed to be doing some thing. Hell, he wouldn’t even mind rustling around in the backseat with Kitty for a few minutes if he could’ve been sure that Kwan would keep his eyes on the road and not run them into a ditch or up a tree.

Plus, sex always had a way of taking the edge off whenever he was feeling tense or anxious. He cut a look over at Kitty and knew that she would be down for whatever he was in the mood for, but just then Kwan turned onto Jaxon’s grandparents’ long, sprawling estate. It was time to suck it up, paste on a smile and ram horns with his grandfather.

There was a short wait, while cars and limos deposited the guests on, of all things, a blue carpet in front of the estate. At first glance, it appeared his grandparents had invited the whole state of New York to what the invitations described as a small get-together. Of course, the Landons never did anything small.

Kwan rolled the car to a stop and the valet quickly snatched open the door and offered a hand to assist Kitty. A person would have to have been deaf not to hear the collective shocked gasps when the outdoor lighting hit Kitty’s knockout number.

Jaxon stepped out of the car behind Kitty and made a dramatic show of possessively wrapping an arm around the exotic dancer’s slim waist. Both he and Kitty thrust up their chins while their eyes and attitude practically dared anyone to say anything about their odd pairing.

“Are you ready for this?” Jaxon queried under his breath.

Kitty leaned closer. “I am if you are.”

“Then let’s knock them dead.” Jaxon slid his free hand into his pants pocket and escorted Kitty up the royal blue carpet.

“Oops.” Kitty sprang out of his grip and stepped back.

Jaxon glanced in time to see a silver tube of lipstick roll down the carpet.

“I forgot to close my clutch.”

“I’ll get it.” Jaxon sprang into action though he felt a little foolish for having to give chase to a tube of lipstick.

Another car pulled up to the curb. The valet immediately opened the door.

Jaxon had stooped to retrieve the shiny lipstick tube when a woman’s gorgeous foot encased in a pair of silver stilettos was planted in front of him. Two things seemed to happen. Time stood still and Jaxon had unexpectedly fallen in love…with a foot.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.