Mirage

MIRAGE

“Kristy?” The genuine concern in John’s voice finally pierced the cloud of darkness and she felt a sob rise in her throat as she resisted the return to consciousness. If she opened her eyes, he’d be gone and she’d be forced to admit that she’d dreamed the vision that had greeted her in her bedroom. She wanted to believe she’d opened the door to find John waiting in her bed. “Darling, wake up,” he whispered. “J-J-John?” His low laugh was warm, indulgent. “Yes, darling, it’s me.” Kristy opened her eyes and stared into the familiar, beloved face. Blue eyes danced with delight and she flung herself into his arms with a sob. John held her tighter and the tears poured forth for several minutes before she eased away just enough to look at him again. “How?” She fought down the surge of panic and memory, and concentrated on the handsome man who held her so tenderly. His eyes were the morning sky after cleansing rains, and in John Smythe she saw the sun that would light her world and make her whole again. “Later,” he whispered. “John?” Smythe covered her lips with a sensual kiss as he leaned her back onto the softness of the bed…

ALSO BY DENYSE M. BRIDGER 1-900-SURPRISE! Alchemy Any Other Way Blood Wine And Pale Roses Bound The Darkest Place Dayne Destiny Met Dream Sequence Heart Of Stone The Hunt Out Of Hell The Phantom’s Lair A Safer Haven Silent Death Storm-Singer The Taste Of Seduction An Unspoken Betrayal Whom Gods Have Favored Winner Take All A World In Darkness

MIRAGE BY DENYSE M. BRIDGER

AMBER QUILL PRESS, LLC http://www.amberquill.com

MIRAGE AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.amberquill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2005 by Denyse M. Bridger ISBN 1-59279-362-2 Cover Art © 2005 Trace Edward Zaber

Layout and Formatting provided by: ElementalAlchemy.com

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

MIRAGE

CHAPTER 1

Captain Caleb Markham faced the Assistant District Attorney across her desk, his expression thunderous. The trip from the courthouse had given him plenty of time to work his mood into a foul, unreasonable fury, and he was fully prepared to make her the object of his present wrath. The D.A., unfortunately, didn’t look the slightest bit intimidated by his anger. “I don’t give a damn what kind of evidence he supplied!” Caleb snarled, leaning farther over her desk as he all but spit the words at her. “We know who was responsible. John Smythe gave the orders, Helen!” “The taped conversations you supplied me with were inadmissible! Your detective barely escaped being charged with entrapment,” she reminded him. “You should be grateful things didn’t get any worse.” When he would have gone on, she held up her hand. “All the evidence Detective King supplied was obtained without the sanction of due process, Captain. It could very well have been as doctored as the 1

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defendant claimed. Smythe’s records show things in a dramatically different light than the ones you gave our office.” “You can be sure there are falsified records involved here,” Markham agreed. “But the reports Peter gave you aren’t the ones you should question.” “My job is to prosecute when I feel I can get a conviction, Captain,” she snapped, and rose to meet him. “If you had given me enough to work with, I could have prosecuted.” “You let a killer go, Counselor,” Markham interrupted. He saw the next objection being readied, and he raised and spread his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. “Okay, have it your way. But, you can take my word on one very important point. This thing isn’t over yet. I just hope we don’t have to collect more bodies.” “Caleb—” He ignored her as he stomped out the door. *

*

*

“It’s good to see you again, sir.” Douglas Wheeler heard the rich, resonant voice as if from a great distance, and he fought his way through the haze of medication that filled his system. He resented the muddling of his mind, but the alternative—constant and excruciating pain—was not the most pleasant of conditions. It seemed to take forever for his focus to settle on the tall, fair-haired man seated next to the hospital bed. “John.” Wheeler reached out a hand. A weak smile flickered across his face when the other man clasped the trembling fingers he held out. “The hearing was this morning. Everything’s been taken care of, and I’ll be heading back to the office from here,” Douglas’s visitor said. “Karen?” “She wasn’t there. I’ll contact her myself later.” “She was upset, John,” Douglas said, his weakened voice filled with 2

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regret and apology. He shook his head. The gesture cost him more strength than he could have imagined several months earlier. “Give her time.” “Has she been to see you?” “Yes,” he answered in a shaky whisper. “My daughter is completely convinced that you are responsible for the attempt on my life.” He sighed heavily, too heartbroken and weary to continue. “Karen’s been through a great deal, too,” John soothed. “I’m sure once we have the chance to discuss everything, she’ll change her mind. She’s really a remarkable young woman.” “Very much like her mother,” Wheeler agreed with a nod. He could feel the sluggishness returning and knew there would be no further conversation this afternoon. He felt so incredibly old. If only his daughter would see reason. Then, perhaps, he could die in peace, knowing she and Wheeler Research and Technology were safe in the capable hands of his trustee. As soon as the old man was asleep, John dropped the limp hand he held and stood. He walked to the window and looked out over the sundrenched hospital yard. Wheeler should have died nearly a month ago, yet he hung onto life with tenacity. John hated these visits. He all but owned Wheeler Research and Technology now. Only Karen remained as a thorn in his side. But there were ways around the obstacle she presented. He smiled to himself as he considered an option he hadn’t had until recently. Yes, he thought, keeping Karen in place would be appallingly easy now. He went to the phone and placed a call to her apartment, only to discover she wasn’t at home. He dropped the receiver back into place and left the room without a backward glance at the sleeping patient. *

*

*

Peter King sat at his desk, his eyes focused on the computer screen 3

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in front of him. He’d spent most of the morning getting caught up on delinquent paperwork. He was definitely due for a break. He closed his eyes and leaned back to stretch some tension from his shoulders. He almost came out of his chair when he felt the light smack to the back of his head. “What!” He twisted around to get a look at the perpetrator of the surprise thump. Karen Wheeler’s face was smiling, but the look in her eyes was in direct contrast to that expression. “I need to see your Captain,” she said, already moving in the direction of Markham’s office before Peter could follow her. When he did enter the captain’s office moment’s later, Markham glanced up at him, then glared. Peter merely shrugged. “As I said—” Markham started to say, returning his attention to the woman. “He’s probably back at my father’s desk by now!” Karen snarled, her agitation making her pace the closed quarters of the office. “I thought this was over. I thought when I gave you the company records it would—” “Wait a minute,” Peter interrupted. “Are you telling me Smythe walked?” This was directed at Markham. “That’s why you had me doing paperwork all morning, isn’t it. To keep me away from the courthouse.” “That’s enough!” Caleb shouted. He rose, crossed to the door and slammed it shut with a bang that brought immediate silence to his office. “Now, if everyone’s willing to discuss this with some amount of calm.” “Why didn’t you tell me, Captain?” Suspicion rose in Markham at that question until he met Peter’s eyes and realized it was a serious enquiry. It shouldn’t have been, Caleb thought. He said as much as he settled back into the worn, 4

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comfortable chair at his desk. Peter scowled in response. “Isn’t there any way to protect Karen from him?” “Legally, Smythe’s a free man. We have nothing on him except records we can’t prove are genuine,” Caleb answered honestly. “Unless something happens to change that, we can’t touch him.” “Officially,” Peter stated. “In any way!” Markham snapped. “I mean it, Peter. You stay away from him. If he knows you’re within shouting distance, the next thing we’ll be explaining to the commissioner is the lawsuit Smythe will file for police harassment.” “You know he’s going to try something,” Peter returned, leaning on the captain’s desk and meeting his gaze squarely. “We can’t just stand around and wait for it to happen, Caleb.” “What are you suggesting we do? I can’t offer protection to someone unless there’s some evidence of danger to them. We’ve been through this once already.” “That doesn’t change what Karen’s up against now.” “We do nothing until Smythe does something that we can prove is a crime.” There was no answer. “I’m going back to work,” Karen muttered as she pushed past Peter and headed out of the office. “Karen, wait!” Caleb watched as Peter followed her. *

*

*

Smythe glanced up when the door to his office swung inward and his new assistant came into the large, airy room. “Karen has just left the police precinct.” “Is King with her?” he asked, watching her close the door and come into the office. “Yes,” she said with a smile. “He’s still convinced she’s the victim 5

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in all this. I don’t know what will persuade him otherwise.” Smythe nodded thoughtfully and leaned back in his chair as Kristy Hawthorne perched on the edge of his desk. His eyes moved in appreciation over the shapely legs that crossed so sensuously in front of him. He fingered the solid gold rope chain that encircled one slim ankle. “Don’t you ever take this off?” he asked. “Not since you gave it to me.” “You’re getting sentimental on me, darling.” “I must be getting old,” she replied with a grin. “I assume their movements are being monitored,” he commented, smiling as he mentally shifted back to her original announcement. “Of course.” Kristy laughed. “How much longer do you think it will be, John?” She rose from the desk and walked to the window. “I doubt Douglas will last longer than another few days,” Smythe replied, his voice holding a small note of distraction. He loved to watch this woman move. Kristy Hawthorne was one of the few people who understood him and did not make judgments. John had known her for almost ten years, and he trusted her implicitly. She was a lovely woman—not radiantly beautiful, but stunning nonetheless. At five feet six inches, she managed to appear regal. Shoulder length ebony hair was stylishly cut and framed a face that was arresting more for its character and intelligence than the delicate prettiness of her features. John had been intrigued with her from the moment they’d met. If she hadn’t been out of the country a couple of years ago when he’d first come to work for Wheeler Research and Technology, he would have given her the job of being his executive assistant back then.. “I remember Douglas Wheeler quite well,” Kristy mused. “When I worked with Daniels & Bennett, Wheeler Research and Technology was one of the firm’s biggest clients.” “Any regrets?” Smythe asked as he rose and went to stand next to 6

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her. “About what?” she said with a laugh, and turned to look up at him. “Daniels, of course,” Smythe replied with a smile. “I expected you to have married him long ago.” “A bit difficult, under the circumstances. The current Mrs. Daniels was most determined to keep the bastard.” “His loss,” John murmured. He bent his head to hers and she slipped into his embrace without hesitation as their kiss deepened. “If you don’t let go of me, John, I may be forced to ravish you right here on Douglas’s desk,” Kristy purred long minutes later. Smythe’s rich, vibrant laughter was low in her ear and she smiled lazily when he released her with a shake of his head. “What are your plans for Karen?” Smythe settled into the stuffed, leather chair. One finger rubbed at a nagging headache that had centered in his temple. Before he could formulate an answer that wouldn’t worry or frighten her, the buzz of the intercom demanded his attention. “That would be the accountants,” Kristy informed him. “What?” “Karen has ordered a review of the company books, John.” Having anticipated his annoyance, Kristy shrugged. “She has the authority, darling.” He was about to answer the insistent buzz, when Kristy’s hand intercepted his. “Let me handle it.” Before she exited his office, John held her back with another question. “How much longer before we can make Sandpiper Investments operational?” “Your new investment firm is about a month from reality, John,” she assured him with a smile. She blew him a kiss from the doorway, then slipped away to deal with the latest Wheeler maneuver. 7

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*

*

*

Peter watched from the other side of the room as Karen and her father talked in low whispers. The old man was trying to convince her she was wrong about Smythe, and it was taking all Peter’s discipline of will to stay out of the exchange. She was assuring the weakened man that she would try to be less harsh in future. The concession irritated Peter beyond reasonable measure. “You must realize John has only your best interests at heart,” Douglas said to his daughter. The effort of the argument put a gasp in his voice. “Please, Father,” Karen soothed. “You should rest.” “No more conflict, Karen,” the patient pleaded. “John has been like a son to me. And, since your mother’s death…” His words came to a quick halt as the pain of loss overcame him and left him shaking with the magnitude of his grief. Karen patted his frail hand cradled between both of hers, and bent to place a light kiss on his cool forehead. She stayed silent and held his hand as sleep claimed him again. At her back, Peter sensed her gratitude for his presence and support. *

*

*

“How did things go with the accountants?” John enquired. His even tone revealed how annoyed he was by the present situation. “They’ll be returning in the morning to finish,” Kristy told him, running her hands through the tangle of hair that brushed her shoulders. She’d spent most of the afternoon in the Wheeler board room, going over the financial statements and accounts with the representatives from Woodward & Edwards. The two men sent to do the review were almost too eager to earn the consultation fee Karen was paying them to find some way of discrediting Smythe’s handling of corporate funds. Kristy had all but come to blows with them numerous times. 8

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“You look tired, darling,” John murmured, his hands settling on her shoulders. Strong fingers began to knead the knots of tension in her upper back, and Kristy sighed softly and closed her eyes. “Robert, your former executive assistant, did his job well,” she said. “God! That feels good,” she whispered, as tiny shivers of pleasure spread through her body. “The books are in perfect order.” “That was what I paid him for,” Smythe noted, his tone sardonic. “I know what you paid him for, sweetheart,” Kristy commented with a low laugh. “I am also perfectly aware that the accounts we’ve been looking at all day are not quite accurate.” Smythe’s fingers halted in their sensual activity and he waited for her next words. “They haven’t a clue, John,” she reassured him. “I simply have no illusions about why you hired me, and handed the D.A. a solid case against Robert.” “And?” he prodded, moving away from her to sit on the edge of the huge conference table. Acutely conscious of her body’s response to his touch, and objecting to its withdrawal, Kristy rose and stood in front of him. She leaned forward until their eyes were bare inches apart. John shifted his position on the table and spread his legs to allow her fully into his embrace. “I don’t intend to end up the same way Robert did, darling,” she whispered. Before he could answer, she covered his mouth in a hungry kiss. Her weariness left her as Smythe’s hands answered her overt invitation and began an exploration beneath her jacket. She shuddered as their kiss deepened. “Am I interrupting something?” The pleasant, too polite tone put a scowl on Smythe’s face as he released Kristy with deliberate reluctance. Covering her own annoyance at the interruption, she quirked an eyebrow in speculative 9

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interest as John stood and gestured for the unexpected visitor to come into the room. “It’s good to see you again, Detective King,” Smythe said with a forced smile. “I don’t think you’ve met my new executive assistant, Kristy Hawthorne. This is Peter King.” He concluded the introduction as he sank into the large, cushioned chair at the head of the table and waited for King to show his hand. Peter’s smile was still irritatingly cheerful. He stepped forward and shook Kristy’s hand, brown eyes measuring her as she met the faint challenge in his manner. “You should keep better company than this after hours,” he commented. “I’ll bear that in mind, Detective,” she returned, matching his smile and his tone. “Is this a private meeting, or should I remain to referee?” “You’ve heard of me,” Peter remarked with mock despair. “I’m disappointed. It’s probably all bad.” “Not all of it,” Kristy replied. “Karen likes you.” Peter’s grin brightened his features for a second, then faded when he dropped into a seat across from Smythe. “Is there a point to this intrusion, Detective?” John asked with a faint smile. “Or, were you just in the neighborhood?” “As a matter of fact,” Peter began, then stopped in mid-sentence. His pleasant manner disappeared and his voice, when he spoke again, had the unmistakable edge of honed steel. “Karen’s in protective custody, Smythe. My custody. If anything happens to her, I promise you, it’ll reflect badly on your health.” “Is that a threat, Detective?” “No threat,” Peter answered, his good humor returning as miraculously as it had vanished seconds earlier. “I just thought you might like to be aware of your situation.” “And what ‘situation’ might that be?” 10

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“She’s to be left alone, Smythe. You may have conned her father and the D.A.., but I know better.” “Of course,” John replied, his tone slipping into condescending amusement. “But, perhaps you should be a little more concerned about your own continuing good health?” “Is that a threat, Mr. Smythe?” “No threat. I just thought you might like to be aware of your situation, Detective.” “This isn’t over,” Peter promised. He stood and headed for the door. John’s voice stopped him. “A word to the wise, Detective King. Leave it alone. Wheeler Research and Technology is my business, not yours. Remember that, and you just might survive your involvement in my affairs.” John watched the conflict play itself out on the detective’s expressive features. King wanted to fight, but he also recognized the futility of it. John resisted a satisfied smile when Peter glared at him, grabbed the doorknob, and left the room without a sound. “He’s not exactly short on nerve, is he?” Kristy said. “Nor particularly long on brains.” John watched Kirsty as she went to the door and twisted the lock. She came back to him and slid into a sitting position on the table in front of him, long legs dangling on either side of his. He placed his hands on her knees and slowly moved them upward over the curve of her thighs. “Where were we?” he murmured, pulling her forward until she straddled him in the chair. “You were helping me relax, darling,” she said with a laugh, and reached for his tie. “Would you like to have dinner?” Smythe’s gaze held hers as his fingers opened the buttons on the satin blouse she wore. “Yes,” she breathed into his mouth. “Right here on the board room 11

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table.” If he planned a retort, she prevented it from being voiced when she covered his lips with hers. The kiss was intense, possessive, and arousing. Kristy’s head was already spinning with the need to have John inside her. She broke their kiss and her head fell back. She moaned softly, her body shivering in response to his touch as he kneaded her breasts in firm hands, her nipples pressed tightly against the sheer lace cups of her bra. Smythe moved suddenly, lifting her onto the smooth conference table. She shed the blouse that hung off her shoulders and his deft fingers tugged the lacy bra cups down to expose the tight, dark buds that crested the ample swells of her breasts. She murmured soft whispers of encouragement when he began licking the sensitive tips. When she couldn’t stand the denial any longer, she flicked the clasp open and let the discarded brassiere fall into the rumpled pile of satin that was her blouse. Then she kissed him and guided his mouth to one of her aching nipples. When his lips closed over the straining tip and he began sucking hard, she squirmed and tried to pull him onto the table with her. “You’re eager tonight, darling,” John murmured as he drew away and began to drop his own clothes into a nearby chair. Kristy laughed and shed her skirt, then she tossed him her damp panties and spread her legs wide as she leaned back. “I see I’m not the only one,” she noted, her voice a low, erotic purr of satisfaction. “What, precisely, do you want, Kristy?” John taunted, his hand closing around the rigid length of his erection, the smooth stroke of his fingers steady and slow. “I want that,” she said, pointing to his cock, “right here.” She slipped her finger into the hot, wet folds between her thighs. “Keep doing that,” he instructed, and she complied, her hand moving in a rapid, thrusting rhythm as she fell back to the surface of 12

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the table and her hips flowed into the motion. She was hovering on the edge of orgasm when John pulled her fingers away, and she choked back a scream when his tongue burrowed into her, the hot flicking force of it making her entire body spasm. Her hands found his head and pressed his mouth closer as she pushed her hips upward. When his tongue began to lap at her clitoris in quick, feathery caresses, the world exploded in a tiny shower of sparks behind her eyes and she lost the ability to breathe properly. A low groan of pain-tinged ecstasy fell from her lips and she rode the waves of pleasure for several seconds before he drew back and stretched out over her. He kissed her eyelids and they fluttered open to stare up at him. She shuddered and her legs rose to lock around his waist when he thrust into her, burying himself in her still quivering heat. For just a moment he was still, and Kristy could almost feel the hammering of his heartbeat when he held her head between his hands, stared into her eyes and began to move inside her. The slow, steady thrust of his hips quickly lost its gentleness and she felt the second wave of euphoria building within her as he pounded into her, his handsome features fiercely beautiful as he gave his body over to its own desperate need for release. Moments later, their voices blurred together in a groan of profound pleasure, and Kristy cradled him to the cushion of her body as they tried to breathe normally again. *

*

*

“What is that?” Peter asked, mild annoyance creeping into his tone as he stared across the table. Karen was all but hidden behind the file she’d been studying since before his arrival. She threw the folder on the table, disgust written on her lovely features. Wide brown eyes glittered with anger when she met Peter’s stare. “What?” he repeated. “It’s the report from Woodward & Edwards, the accountants,” she 13

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told him. “The books are in perfect order! They’ve been pouring over every transaction Smythe’s approved during the past year, and everything is in order!” Her voice rose with her fury, and Peter reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “We’ll find another way,” he assured her. “I’ve started an investigation into Kristy Hawthorne’s background. Maybe something will turn up there?” Clearly still seething, Karen barely managed to restrain her anger, and offered him a shaky smile instead. “I’m running out of options, Peter.” “Your family owns the company,” he pointed out. “There’s got to be some way to convince your stockholders that it would be in better hands if a family member was appointed CEO.” “The next board meeting isn’t until June. That gives Smythe another three months to bury anything that could reflect badly on him.” “So call an emergency meeting,” Peter said. “You can do that, can’t you?” She nodded, interest lighting her face as she connected with his train of thought. “With everything that’s happened, he’s on shaky ground anyway. It just might make them rethink his position, even with my father’s approval of him.” “It’s worth a shot,” Peter agreed. He gave her his best smile, and squeezed her hand. “Do you think we could have dinner now?” She beamed. “My pleasure.” *

*

*

“Did they find anything?” Smythe asked, his long body curled around the woman in his arms as he pulled her back against his chest. They’d returned to his apartment several hours earlier, and most of the time since had been spent in his bed. Kristy’s laughter was low and throaty with their recent passion. She shivered when his lips began an 14

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exploration of her neck and shoulder. “The report they have to give Karen is not going to please her,” she said. “But it should definitely end their interference. The general consensus at the firm is they’ve done their duty to the Wheeler heir, and further investigation will require solid evidence.” “Have I told you recently how happy I am to have you working with me?” John murmured, his deep, sensual voice creating another tremor of reaction in her. He enjoyed his power over this woman, almost as much as he enjoyed the corporate games. He’d seen her cold and immune to the many men who attempted to seduce her; the challenge had intrigued him. “Is that the only thing that makes you happy, John?” She smiled. The telephone rang and she made an automatic reach for it. Smythe shook his head and silenced her protest with a kiss that stole her breath. He slid over her, a shudder of intense pleasure spreading through him when her legs wrapped around his waist and she arched beneath him. *

*

*

“There’s no answer at Smythe’s apartment,” Peter told her. “If any of the stockholders have reservations and want to talk to him about tomorrow’s meeting, they’ll have to wait—” “Until it’s too late,” Karen finished with a grin. She rose from the comfortable couch she’d dropped onto to make the calls, and a leisurely stretch took some of the cramped tension out of her body. “How about some wine?” Peter was still caught in the pleasant vision of her stretch and he stared stupidly for a moment before clicking in to the question. “Yeah, sure,” he mumbled, suddenly unable to meet her curious gaze. Karen hesitated a second longer, then disappeared into her kitchen. When she returned, she held glasses and a bottle of wine. “Did your computer turn up anything on the new assistant?” Karen asked, after handing the wine over to Peter. 15

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He glanced up and shook his head as he continued to work on the cork. “Nothing. From all accounts she’s clean. Went to the same schools as Smythe and then went her own way. Her last job was at Daniels & Bennett.” The cork popped and he poured the wine into the glasses she held, then placed the bottle on the low coffee table. “Seems she does have a tendency to get involved with her employers, though,” he added. “Yeah?” Karen was thoughtful as she sipped the wine and wondered if that could be a useful weakness. “She and Smythe…” Peter’s voice trailed off before the words would come out, and he tried to appear nonplused when Karen’s laughter filled the cozy atmosphere. “I can’t imagine why she’d want him,” Karen said candidly. “I’ve always found her bright and interesting. Definitely not the malleable type.” “Maybe he knows something about her that we don’t?” Peter suggested. Karen’s second burst of laughter irritated him when he realized the direction her thoughts had taken. “I’m sure there’s a lot he knows about her that we don’t,” Karen said with a giggle. “If they are involved.” “They looked pretty involved to me,” Peter commented in an undertone. “What?” “Nothing. Forget it.” He downed the wine a little too quickly, then reached for the bottle a second time, using the task of pouring to cover his expression when he asked, “Did Smythe ever suggest you and he…?” “You’re joking!” Karen sputtered, all but spilling her wine. “I’d rather give up Wheeler Research and Technology than consider crawling into the same bed with him!” 16

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Without quite knowing why, Peter felt a twitch of uneasiness stirring to life within him. He looked up at her, his gaze drawn to the huge dark eyes and the sweetly curving face. He felt like he was seeing her for the first time. And he liked what he was looking at, he admitted silently. He felt the heat of embarrassment flood his face when he realized she was staring back at him, her eyes questioning and expectant. “Maybe I should be leaving,” he said, suddenly anxious to get back to his apartment—although there was absolutely nothing there to demand his attention. “You need a lift to the board meeting?” “No,” she answered as she rose to get his jacket. “But, if you’re in the neighborhood, drop in—I may need the moral support if things go badly.” He hauled on his leather jacket and was standing at the door when Karen stood on tiptoe to place a light kiss on his cheek. He intercepted her and covered soft, full lips with his. The caress was tentative and caught them both by surprise. She pulled back after a moment and stared up at him. Peter waited, uncertainty stopping the impulse to reach for her a second time. “It’s like kissing my kid brother, Peter,” she told him with a gentle smile. “I like you, a lot. But…” Peter cut her off when he pulled her into his arms and caught her mouth in a much stronger kiss. He felt her relax against him and she returned the oral caress with more intensity than he’d expected. “Kid brother, huh?” he whispered a few minutes later, still holding her to him. The grin on his face was filled with mischief. “You’re still not staying,” Karen informed him, and she extricated herself from his embrace with gentle determination. Disappointed, Peter nodded. “I know. If you need me, I’ll be at home.” When she looked like she was going to say something flippant, he shook his head. “I mean it, Karen. If anything happens to upset you, 17

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call me. Not the precinct. And I’ll be here.” Her smile was genuine and grateful. “Thanks, Peter.” *

*

*

“Mr. Smythe!” Sharlene Lindsey’s tone was weak with relief when she spotted John striding up the hall toward his office. He’d barely reached her when she held up a hand to get his attention. “They’ve been waiting almost an hour for you, sir.” Confused, Smythe halted next to his secretary’s desk and waited for her to give him an explanation. When she continued to stare at him in agitated distress, his patience grew dangerously thin. “Who is waiting for me, Sharlene?” he demanded. “The board members,” she whispered. “Miss Wheeler is with them now. She told me that you knew, Mr. Smythe. I wanted to call, but…” “It’s all right, Ms. Lindsey,” he assured her, all traces of his previously pleasant mood fading rapidly. “I’ll discuss this with both you and Miss Wheeler, later.” He was about to enter his office when he glanced back. “Tell Ms. Hawthorne I need to see her immediately.” “Good of you to join us, John,” Harlen Carter said once Smythe had entered the room and was seated at the head of the long conference table. The note of censure fell flat when Smythe smiled and refused to take the obvious bait. “My apologies for making you wait, gentlemen,” he stated with just the right inflection of regret in his rich voice. “Miss Wheeler,” he added with a slight inclination of his head. She was the only woman present, he noted, pleased that several of the more influential female members of the Wheeler board hadn’t answered Karen’s impromptu summons. “I wasn’t informed of this meeting until a few minutes ago.” Carter, one of the largest shareholders, looked at Karen for an explanation. “Your urgency to call this meeting doesn’t excuse not informing your father’s trustee, Miss Wheeler,” he admonished. 18

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Before Karen could answer, John stepped into the conversation and drew attention away from the young woman. “It’s of little consequence now.” Smythe smoothed the other man’s pompous manner with an ingratiating smile of conspiratorial understanding concerning Miss Wheeler’s lack of experience in such matters. “Since you all felt the need to respond to Miss Wheeler’s concerns, perhaps we should discuss what is on the agenda for this meeting.” “Karen’s leveled some pretty serious charges against you, John,” Harlen informed him. “I think it’s only right that you be given a chance to answer those allegations.” “Gentlemen,” Karen’s voice was tight with anger when she rose from her chair and glared down at the gathered members. “This isn’t about giving this—” She stopped herself from making a poor choice of words, and dragged in a deep breath. “My father is never going to recover from his accident of a couple of months ago. He doesn’t know what’s happening here. I have proof that Smythe is bleeding this company dry. He’s responsible for the accident that will, ultimately, kill my father. He even tried to have me killed less than a month ago!” Smythe didn’t let his expression betray anything as he listened to her. Instead, he looked at her with near pity. And the Board members were eating it up. He leaned forward in his chair and crossed his hands on the gleaming wooden surface of the table. “Karen, we’ve been through this a dozen times. We’ve even been in court recently. I had nothing to do with the accident that injured your father. And I certainly have never attempted to do anything more sinister to you than increase your profit margin through my management of this company.” “You’re lying,” she charged, her tone one of unshakable certainty. “Just like you’ve lied to the police about the threats, and the attempts to kill me. You even tried to have me—” 19

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“Have you what?” Mark Graham asked, picking up her slip before she could cover it. “Six weeks ago Karen was committed to a hospital for psychiatric evaluation. She was delusional, or so we thought,” John explained, again with enough conviction in his voice to sway the tide in his favor. “It turned out she was right, I’m sorry to say. There were threats made, as well as an attempt on her life. All engineered by my former assistant, Robert Williams.” Silence settled in the wake of the startling revelation. Smythe waited, his doubts dissipating as he read the varied reactions of the board members. He knew these men much better than Karen did, and he knew exactly what kind of manipulations would keep them out of his business. “That’s not the way it happened, Smythe, and you know it!” she declared. “He gave the orders,” she told them. “You know Robert didn’t do anything without his approval. Besides, why would Williams want me dead?” “I assume he thought he was doing me a favor,” John said quietly, blue eyes locked with the shocked brown of her gaze. He dismissed her after a moment of stunned silence filled the large room, then turned his attention back to the assembled board members. “Karen is telling you the truth, at least as she sees it,” he allowed with a shrug. “The police did investigate, and they arrested Robert. He was killed in prison before he could make a full statement, but it was apparent that he was embezzling company funds, and laying a trail that led back to me. I supplied the District Attorney with company records, and Karen herself has enlisted consultants to review the accounts.” He paused for effect, then concluded. “Their report is being copied for each of you and will be ready shortly.” “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” Harlen Carter huffed. “Why are we here, Miss Wheeler?” 20

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“You have the power to appoint a new president.” Her voice was low and barely masked her anger. She knew she’d lost with them already. Even with surprise on her side, Smythe managed to have the bases covered. “Your father has stated clearly that John is his trustee and chosen president,” Graham pointed out. “Without evidence to back your accusations, we have to honor Douglas’s wishes in this, Karen.” “My father is a dying man,” she whispered. Sudden tears made her voice rough and shaky. “And Mr. Smythe has easily misled him, as he has the rest of you.” Before anyone could reply, there was a soft knock on the door, followed immediately by Kristy Hawthorne’s entrance. She carried an armload of files and placed them on the corner of the table as she came to a halt at Smythe’s side. “Mr. Wheeler is on the conference line, Gentlemen,” she announced. “He wishes to speak to you before you adjourn this meeting.” Karen stared at her in open astonishment. Without missing a beat, Kristy punched the intercom link and Douglas Wheeler’s weak voice filled the heavy, tension-laden quiet that had engulfed the entire room. As the old man endorsed his chosen trustee, Smythe’s assistant walked around the table and handed out the report from the accountants. When Karen opened the bulging folder Kristy had given her, she knew it was over, and that she definitely had lost this battle. The packets contained copies not only of the accounting firm’s report, but the police reports connected to the investigation as well. Also included were the indictment against Robert and, perhaps most detrimental, the records of Karen’s repeated and unsubstantiated 911 calls. She turned furious eyes to Smythe, saw Kristy whispering something in his ear, then met the mild amusement in his blue gaze when he caught her look. 21

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“Karen.” Smythe caught her arm as they left the board room and he held her firmly until they reached the corridor outside. “I’d like to speak to you, in my office.” “You can go to hell, Smythe!” she snapped, completely unconcerned about who might hear them. “You’ve won this time, but it’s not over.” Kristy shut the board room door as she exited and gave them a slightly pained look. “If you’re going to fight, do it privately,” she suggested. “I can’t believe you helped him do this,” Karen accused. “How can you pretend you don’t know what he’s doing?” “He’s running your father’s company, Karen,” Kristy answered with a tired sigh. “Just as he’s been asked. I’m here to do a job, too. If I’m not doing it to your satisfaction, have my record reviewed and fire me. Otherwise, leave me out of your personal squabbles with John.” The bluntness of the other woman’s statements actually startled Karen, and she saw Smythe’s mouth twitch with suppressed amusement. Still stinging and raging at the resounding defeat she’d just suffered, Karen turned to leave. Again, Smythe’s hand on her elbow prevented the escape. “We’re not through, yet,” he murmured next to her ear. “Into my office. Now.” The coldness of his tone didn’t bode well for the upcoming conversation. *

*

*

Peter King stepped off the elevator just in time to spot Karen going into Smythe’s office with him. He headed in their direction, only to be stopped by Kristy Hawthorne, the lovely woman he’d met in the board room a few days earlier. “Detective King.” Kristy smiled, stopping in front of him and blocking his path to the company president’s office. “It’s good to see you again.” 22

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“Yeah, you, too,” Peter commented with an absent smile. “I’m here to pick up Karen.” “She’s in a meeting,” Kristy informed him. “I’ll tell John you’re waiting, but they may be awhile.” She shrugged, and her smile warmed a little. “Perhaps, you’d like to join me for a cup of coffee while you wait?” Peter was going to reply, then he stared down at her and stepped back. “You really think this guy’s okay, don’t you?” he asked, curious about her loyalty to Smythe. “Why wouldn’t I?” Kristy replied, as she led him down to a small conference room at the end of the hall. “As I just explained to Karen, I’m here to do a job. I didn’t sign on to referee her personal battles with John Smythe.” “Even if he’s trying to have her killed?” Peter accepted the cup she handed him. Kristy sat at the table in the center of the room and laughed. “You’re starting to sound an awful lot like Miss Wheeler, Detective,” she told him. “Aren’t you supposed to know better?” “Better than what?” Peter countered with a smile. “I was in the hospital when she was almost killed, Ms. Hawthorne, you weren’t.” “Kristy,” she corrected. “And, tell me, was John inside this institution when Karen was attacked?” “No, but he gave the orders,” Peter said quietly. “Can you prove that, Detective King?” “Peter. If I could prove it, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” “You don’t find that suggestive, Peter?” Kristy asked with a delicate shrug of her shoulder. “I’ve seen the records, too. I also knew Robert Williams. He was more than capable of orchestrating this conspiracy you and Karen describe.” 23

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“In your honest opinion, Kristy, do you think Smythe isn’t just as capable?” “I’m sure he is,” she replied with surprising candor. “But, why bother? Wheeler Research and Technology is a thriving business, Peter. It would be in John’s best interests to keep it that way. Why jeopardize the very thing that is making him rich?” “He wants it all,” Peter said. “He has it all,” she said with a laugh. “Douglas Wheeler is a dying man, and John is the heir apparent. Karen’s a sweet girl, but her father doesn’t credit her with the brains required to run a corporation like Wheeler Research and Technology. You know her; what do you think?” “Okay,” Peter relented. He rose and paced the room, hands buried in his pockets. “Karen hasn’t got the business experience, but that doesn’t mean she can’t learn to run this company as well as he does.” “I’m afraid it does,” Kristy replied. “You could do it, couldn’t you?” he decided, his gaze wandering over the impeccable clothes, and back to the cool topaz eyes that regarded him with clear amusement. “I’m not at all like Karen Wheeler, Peter,” she told him. “Though, considering your obvious fondness for her, I’m almost inclined to regret that fact. We have different life goals, Karen and me. She’s had everything given to her. I’ve learned to take what I want, and to keep it.” “Sounds inviting,” he commented dryly. “Survival instinct.” “Are you happy?” “That’s an odd question, coming from a cop.” “Why? Aren’t cops supposed to be happy?” “The ones I’ve met are usually happiest when they’re kicking ass or drinking themselves senseless.” 24

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“Maybe you should get to know a better class of cops.” “I didn’t know there was a better class.” She grinned. “Are you propositioning me, Detective?” “How far would I get?” he replied with a sweeping look of appraisal that made her laugh in delight. “Not very, I’m afraid,” she answered with a tiny shake of her head. “My personal interest in engaged elsewhere at the moment.” “Smythe,” Peter said with a nod. Kristy didn’t answer him. Both knew it wasn’t necessary. *

*

*

“That was not one of your brightest ideas, Karen,” Smythe stated when he was seated at his desk. “Obviously not,” she agreed through clenched teeth. “But I’m getting desperate to make someone listen to me.” “Why can’t you just let go of this?” John said, his quiet, controlled voice pitched to a lulling tone. “You’re only causing yourself unnecessary aggravation with this nonsense.” “Aggravation?” she repeated in disbelief. “You’re systematically killing off my family, and you call it aggravation?” Smythe’s expression darkened dangerously, and he rose from his chair. The motion was graceful, like a sleek, stalking leopard scenting prey. Karen shifted uneasily in her seat, her eyes never leaving the smooth flow of his movement, fascinated by him in spite of her instinctive aversion. She still couldn’t conceal the tiny start of fright she felt when he leaned over her, lithe, long fingered hands curving over her shoulders as his voice murmured near her ear. “You would do well to keep thoughts like that to yourself, my dear,” he advised. “If you continue to push me, Karen, I promise things could get very unpleasant. Not just for you, but for those around you.” “What are you planning to do, Smythe?” she snapped. “Arrange to have a building fall on me?” 25

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John’s laughter was chilling, and he drew her out of the chair and brushed aside a soft strand of rich, dark hair. He let his touch linger on her cheek just long enough to make her wince. “Continue to push me, Karen, and I’ll begin an investigation of my own. One that will not relent until I know who attempted to kill Douglas. Though I have pretty solid suspicions about that now.” Fear instantly lit her expressive eyes, and she jerked away from him. His laughter chased her from his office a moment later. *

*

*

Peter and Kristy were almost back to Smythe’s office when the door swept open and Karen burst into the corridor. Peter left Kristy and was at Karen’s side in an instant. Tears streamed down the woman’s ashen face. Behind her, like a silent wraith, John stood framed in the doorway, his expression thoughtful. “What’s going on, Karen?” Peter asked, too absorbed in the woman to notice they were the center of attention within the office complex. “Nothing!” she said, her voice quivering. “I want to go home, Peter. Please, just take me home.” Kristy saw Peter finally take notice of John standing in the background. He got a single step toward John before Kristy stopped him with a firm hand on his arm. He swung around to look at her and Kristy shook her head. “Take Karen home as she’s asked, Peter. I’ll let you know what’s going on, I promise.” He was surprised into silence, and Karen’s tug on his arm drew him away from any question he might have asked. He and Karen headed for the elevator, and Kristy made sure they got on it before she entered John’s office with him and closed the door. “Is there really a need to leave that girl in tears every time you speak to her, John?” Kristy asked. He laughed quietly and perched on the wide window ledge. His gaze was focused on the two people getting into the detective’s black 26

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Honda parked in the Wheeler lot. “Her defeat upset her. Not me.” Kristy sighed, her hands on his shoulders. She leaned forward, kissed his cheek and waited for him to look at her. When the cool blue eyes met hers seconds later, she smiled. “You own Wheeler Research and Technology, darling. Leave it at that.” John smiled back at her and pulled her into his arms. He bent to place a light kiss over her heart and let his tongue dip into the intriguing shadow just below her neckline. She shivered slightly and eased back. “For the first time in my life, I have everything I want,” she whispered, her voice filled with rarely expressed emotion. “I don’t want to lose any of it.” “You are getting sentimental, Kristy,” he teased. He ran a delicate caress along the curve of her cheekbone, long fingers like the brush of velvet against her skin. When his touch reached her mouth, he pulled her forward to meet his kiss. “What is it you really don’t want to lose?” he asked her minutes later, his hand closing over one of her breasts, stroking persuasively. She shook her head, and buried the response that would have revealed a truth she wasn’t sure she wanted to give him. The buzz of the intercom saved her the need for a reply, and she laughed in spite of her mood when John took the call but remained standing to answer it. She understood a moment later when he settled her in his chair, then unbuckled his belt and the button at his waist. She pushed his hands away and finished opening the front of his designer suit pants, freeing him from the suddenly confining briefs. John’s long fingers tangled in her hair as she took his smooth, hard cock into her mouth and began to suck and stroke with her tongue. A few minutes later, she heard the phone being placed on the corner of the desk, and John drew her away with a hiss of reaction to the loss 27

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of her mouth engulfing him. He took her hands and tugged her to her feet, then pulled her soft, cashmere sweater over her head and tossed it aside. She hadn’t worn a bra and he had told her that morning to forget the underwear as well. Now she knew why. He turned her back to him, and hiked her skirt up around her waist as he stood behind her and made her lean over his desktop. Kristy spread her legs and stifled the gasp of pleasure that quivered through her when he drove into her with a suddenness that was almost painful. His hands reached around and cupped her dangling breasts, squeezing and caressing them as he pinched her nipples to greater sensitivity. For an eternity of minutes the only sounds in the luxurious office where soft gasps and the slick, wet stroke of frenzied sex. Kristy’s teeth sank lightly into her own forearm as her body exploded with rapture and John’s low moan of release was lost in the center of her back a second later. In a distant part of her mind, she wondered if anyone had knocked on the office door in the past ten minutes… *

*

*

“What was that all about?” Peter demanded once they were well away from the Wheeler Building. Karen had pulled herself together, but glistening tears still filled her huge brown eyes and threatened to make her break down again. “He’s turning them all against me, Peter. They’re all starting to agree with him that I’m crazy!” The edge of hysteria was creeping into her voice and Peter searched the road for a place that would allow him to pull over. Once he’d stopped the car, he turned to face her. “No one thinks you’re crazy, Karen,” he assured her. “But…” “But what!?” she demanded, her voice tight with suspicion. “Caleb—Captain Markham—is right,” he answered reluctantly. “You gotta stop provoking him. It just makes this thing worse.” 28

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“Who’s side are you on, Peter?” The hint of betrayal angered him and Peter’s expression darkened. “This isn’t about sides. It’s about patience, and finding a way to nail this bastard that won’t land us in a cell next to him.” “Patience?” she repeated, the tone steeped in sarcasm. “Coming from you that’s a bad joke.” Peter scowled and resisted the retort he would have flung at her under less strained conditions. “Do you want to go back to work, or home?” She stared at him for several moments as if stunned he were closing this subject. “Work,” she finally said. *

*

*

Kristy’s gaze drifted to the telephone again, and she wondered if she’d make things better or worse by calling him. John would be furious. Still, Karen was generally a smart girl, and Kristy was starting to wonder if there might be some truth to the continued accusations against Smythe. She’d fallen in love with him. She wanted to believe he wasn’t responsible for the horrible things Karen charged him with; but the doubt remained. And Kristy was a logical woman who had never let her judgment cloud because of emotional attachments. With a heavy sigh, she bowed to the inevitable and crossed the office to her desk. “I’d like to speak to Detective King,” she requested once she’d reached the precinct. It took a few seconds, then Peter’s voice came across the line. “This is King. Make it quick, I’m on my way out.” “Duty beckons, Detective?” she replied with a laugh. “Kris?” His interest was piqued and held. “Why do you call me that?” she asked, curious despite the irrelevancy of the detail. 29

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“Smythe calls you Kristy,” he answered with a laugh. There was a thoughtful pause, then, “I think we need to talk, Peter.” “About what?” Suspicion made the two words a sharp demand. “I’m hardly prepared to discuss this in my office,” she said. “What have you got in mind?” “Why don’t we have dinner?” she suggested. That had obviously surprised him; it was reflected in his silence. “Is there a problem, Peter?” “No,” he said, recovering his composure. “I’ll meet you at the Inn On The Lake.” “Well, I approve of your taste in restaurants, anyway.” “See you at eight?” “Eight o’clock. I’m looking forward to it,” she said, surprised to realize she meant the polite words. *

*

*

“I need to go over this with you,” John announced as he strolled into Kristy’s office and leaned on the edge of her desk. He was so absorbed in the file he held, he didn’t notice she had already slipped into her coat. “It’s the final paperwork for Sandpiper Investment.” “Can it wait until morning, John?” He looked up, startled, and the file was forgotten when he saw she was ready to leave. He tossed the folder on her desk and sat more comfortably on the cleared surface. “Do you have plans I’m not aware of, darling?” His arrogance made the enquiry a teasing jest. The smile slipped from his austere features a moment later when she answered. “I’m going out to dinner,” she told him. “I expect to be home rather early. If this really can’t wait, I’ll call you when I get back and we can go over it then.” She was almost past him when his hand closed on her wrist, the grip a little firmer than it needed to be. 30

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“You still haven’t told me who you’re having dinner with,” he pointed out. “I didn’t realize I had to clear my social calendar with you,” she snapped. She tried to free her hand, felt a twinge of pain when he refused to let go of her, and stared up at him in open incredulity. He rose, pulled her close to him, and kissed her with a thoroughness that made her tremble against him. “Who are you going out with, Kristy?” Surprisingly, she still hesitated. Then, with a resigned sigh, she shrugged. “Peter King.” John relaxed and began to laugh. “Dare I ask what prompted this miracle?” Kristy would have backed away from him, but he still wouldn’t let her go. “If I can persuade him that Karen’s campaign to discredit you is only causing her harm, maybe he can talk some sense into her.” John considered the explanation for several seconds, then nodded “By all means, persuade him.” He released his hold on her. “I’m sure it will be a most pleasant experience for the young detective,” he added with a smug smile. Kristy felt the barbed insinuation draw blood within her heart. Tears blurred her vision as she absorbed the hurt and shut it away inside herself. When she spoke again, her voice was dull and rougher than normal. “I’ll call you when I get in, John.” Before he could answer, she was gone. *

*

*

“So far, we haven’t discussed any of the things I wanted to talk to you about, Peter.” Peter laughed at the hint of frustration in her tone, and he leaned across the table and captured her topaz gaze with his. 31

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“I thought you asked me out because you liked me,” he whispered, the tone conspiratorial. Kristy rolled her eyes. She didn’t bother telling him he was more right that she’d realized. “I think we need to talk about Karen Wheeler.” Peter’s playful mood vanished, and he slumped back in his chair as the waiter returned with their after dinner drinks. He picked up the cognac and watched the play of light dance off the rich color of the swirling liquid and cut crystal of the glass. He sipped at the drink and set in back on the table, his fingers still caressing the smooth base of the glass. “Karen’s been through a lot recently,” he said. “But, it’s not my business to discuss that with anybody. Especially not someone from Smythe’s camp.” “I’m not doing this for John,” she replied, her gaze locked with his. “I used to like Karen, Detective King. But she hasn’t been the same person since her father’s accident. She never liked John, and since Douglas entrusted him with the company, she’s become even more unreasonable about him. I thought, hoped really, that you might talk to her. Try to make her understand that this war she’s mounting against John is one fight she’ll lose.” “You’re awfully certain of that,” Peter noted. “I know him,” she replied honestly. “He doesn’t lose anything easily. And he doesn’t respond well to threats or attempts to undermine him. Douglas Wheeler built Wheeler Research and Technology, Peter. He’s always been a sound judge of character, and knows what is best for his company. He trusts John to run that business. To the point that he appointed him personal trustee to the family estate. Doesn’t that suggest anything to you, and Karen?” “Yeah, it does.” Peter’s voice was eerily calm. “It suggests Karen’s father isn’t the man he used to be.” 32

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“It might also suggest that Karen isn’t the woman she used to be, and her father sees that more clearly than we do.” Peter scowled at her with an anger that was almost physical in its presence and force. Kristy let out a breath that was weary with disappointment and defeat. “Fine,” she murmured. “Have it your way, Peter. I just hope you’re prepared to deal with the fallout if she continues to push.” “You and your boss have a great way of making veiled threats seem like small talk, Ms. Hawthorne.” *

*

*

John paced within the luxurious confines of his apartment, and with each turn of the spacious living room his mood grew darker. It was difficult to say which was more irritating to him, the on-going interference from Karen, or the idea of Kristy dining out with the handsome young cop he disliked. He wasn’t a man driven by emotion, but John was pissed when he considered the possibility that his mistress might be seducing someone else tonight. Karen’s setback earlier today would only serve to make her more intractable. He had to find a way to put a leash on her before things went truly bad. Her father didn’t have a lot longer, and John was determined, as a point of loyalty to Douglas, to make his last days peaceful. He felt no emotional attachment to the man, but Wheeler had taken a chance on him when other companies wouldn’t even see him. Smythe knew the family secrets better than Karen herself did, and he saw no advantage in making their internal problems fodder for scandal mongers. Still, he needed to keep her out of the business once and for all or a great many people would lose everything. Kristy had stepped in and controlled the damage to his career with an efficiency that made her invaluable. She knew things weren’t quite as he painted them, but she loved him enough to be blind to some of it. If she ever found out exactly how grand the deception was, it might be 33

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different, however. He was almost free and clear. The considerable monies he’d rerouted were now safely deposited in Swiss accounts, and all the evidence had pointed the responsibility for the theft directly at his former accomplice. He would not lose his position now because of the interference of a girl who refused to be kept in place. It would be appallingly easy to insure Karen’s cooperation, he thought as he came to a halt at gleaming glass doors. He slid aside the heavy pane of glass and stepped out onto the stone balcony. The cool whisper of breeze eased the slight headache he felt behind his eyes. A few minutes later, decision made, he went inside and picked up the phone.

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CHAPTER 2

They were outside in the parking lot when the tense silence finally became too much for Peter. He felt like a first class shit anyway, and Kristy’s impassive manner was more effective than outrage if it was her intention to make him feel guilty about his comments. They had reached his car, and she was heading past him to go to her vehicle when he caught her arm and stopped her retreat. “Look, I’m sorry about what I said inside,” he offered. He ran a hand through his hair and fidgeted as he waited for her to say something. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Peter. I made a mistake. You’re right, after all. We are on opposite sides in this situation, and it appears we’re going to stay that way.” She turned to continue her interrupted departure. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean we have to be enemies, does it?” He grabbed her arm a second time and she stumbled. She would have 35

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fallen if he hadn’t caught and steadied her. Brown eyes stared down into gold, and Peter was suddenly aware of the enticing fullness of her lips. Before he could think about it, he bent and kissed her, the caress tentative. Kristy pulled away a moment later, and shook her head. “This isn’t a good idea,” she told him in a quiet voice. “You’re very sweet, but I’m not in the habit of having more than one affair at a time.” “I’m sorry,” he apologized again. “Don’t, Peter,” she said with a soft laugh.. “You’re extremely attractive, and I may even hate myself in the morning for not discovering just how beautiful you are under those clothes. But this is not the right time. Not for me, and certainly not for you.” “Me?” “Karen?” “It’s not like that with us,” he said. “Isn’t it? I’ve seen you with her, Peter. You’re both pretending there’s nothing going on, but there is most definitely something between you.” “We’re friends,” he insisted. “John and I are friends, too.” “Smythe’s the reason—” She stopped his words with a shake of her head. “I think I should go home now, before this gets more complicated than it already has.” “You could come back to my place,” he offered with a grin. When she gave him a look of amused reproach, he spread his hands in casual surrender. “Okay, okay. I had to ask, though.” “Good night, Peter.” “I’ll walk you to your car,” he said and fell into step beside her. They were standing beside the pale blue Mercedes when the night exploded with unanticipated sound and terror. Peter’s body was flung into the side of Kristy’s car. The resounding thud of his head hitting the 36

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doorframe was distant and hardly heard in the reverberation of the blast of the gunshot that had flung him forward. His features contorted with pain, and Kristy’s terror held her frozen to the spot for eternal seconds. When another shot rang out, she screamed, a sound amplified in her heart as she saw Peter lose his tenuous hold on consciousness. She watched in horror as Peter slumped to the ground and moaned once, then went silent and still. The spray of blood from the bullet tearing into him was vivid against the shining blue finish of her car. She had been a step behind him and bile rose in her throat when she saw the drops of gore that stained her suit jacket. Her hands rose and she pushed back dark hair. The stickiness of more of Peter’s blood woke the nausea, and she turned away. The retching reaction was over in moments, and she choked back a second scream when she dropped to her knees beside him and heard the shallowness of his breathing. “Think, Kristy,” she commanded herself. She shut her eyes, took a deep breath and opened her eyes again. First, she scanned the surrounding area, and saw no movement that would indicate a possible shooter waiting to finish the job. She rose and went around to the passenger side of her car. She unlocked the door and reached in for the phone. Her voice was shaking uncontrollably, but she managed to give the emergency operator the restaurant location and Peter’s name. *

*

*

“Ms. Hawthorne?” She turned at the strong voice and waited for the tall, grey-haired man to continue. There was pain and fear in his gaze, and she knew she was looking at someone who cared deeply for Peter King. “I’m Caleb Markham,” he said and extended his hand to her. “The doctor said you were with Peter when he was brought in.” “Is he going to be all right, Mr. Markham?” she asked, her voice rough with shock and fear. She gripped his hand for longer than was 37

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necessary, almost afraid to let go of the solid strength of his presence. Realizing what she was doing, she smiled self-consciously and released her hold. “Captain, the forensics team have been over every inch of the parking lot. Nothing,” a uniformed office told them, and turned inquisitive eyes toward Kristy. “Captain?” “I wonder if I could ask you a few questions, Ms. Hawthorne?” Markham asked as he led her into the most isolated corner of the E.R. waiting room. Before he could voice the first of his inquiries, Kristy spotted the tall, fair haired man entering the waiting area. She rose from the chair Caleb had just seated her in, and was across the room in an instant. John caught her in his arms and held her tightly. He whispered soothing words of comfort as he drew her back to the waiting police captain. “Mr. Smythe,” Caleb greeted him, his tone cold. “Captain Markham, it’s good to see you again,” Smythe responded with a chilling smile. “I’m sorry to hear your detective’s been hurt. If there’s any way we can be of assistance, please don’t hesitate to ask. I’m sure Kristy is as anxious as I am to see that whoever’s responsible for this is caught.” Markham visibly repressed his anger as he waited for them to sit. Kristy held one of Smythe’s hands between both of hers, certain if John pulled away she’d fall apart. “I need to know exactly what happened tonight, Ms. Hawthorne,” the captain said in a quiet voice. His tone was pitched low and comforting. “Kristy,” she requested. “There’s not much I can tell you, Captain. We were leaving the restaurant, and Peter had walked me to my car. When he was shot, I panicked. I didn’t see anything, and when I did think to look around, whoever might have been in the area had already 38

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had plenty of time to get away.” “Is there any reason to think this is more than simply a random incident?” Smythe’s compelling voice interjected. His features, like his tone, revealed only polite concern. “We’re looking into that possibility,” Caleb allowed. The façade of courtesy never faltered. “Was there any sign of trouble prior to the shooting?” Kristy ran the night’s events through her memory, searching for some clue she might have overlooked. Nothing presented itself and she shook her head with visible regret. “Is Peter going to be all right, Captain Markham?” “He took the shot in his shoulder. They’ve got him in X-ray right now. If the bullet went through without shattering bone, he should be fine.” As if on cue, another cop entered the waiting room and Caleb excused himself to speak to him. “I’ll take you home, darling,” John offered and kissed her forehead. “Not until I know he’s okay, John. Please?” Smythe’s mouth tightened into a thin line of barely repressed irritation, but he held back the retort that she knew he wanted to make. “Fine,” he managed to be gracious and solicitous. “We’ll stay as long as you like.” *

*

*

The night passed slowly and tediously as they waited for word about Peter’s condition. Karen had arrived a short while after Smythe, and she periodically glared at him as if she wished he’d simply go away. John would have indulged her without a qualm if Kristy hadn’t been adamant in her decision to stay. Smythe was standing at the window, watching the first rays of sunlight taint the morning sky when his attention was drawn to the waiting room entrance. He recognized Doctor Freeman as the physician who’d been attending Peter King, and he moved away from his silent 39

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vigil. Kristy rose and reached for his arm as he joined her. They remained in the background as Freeman spoke to Captain Markham and Karen, whose large eyes were huge with worry that only John Smythe knew was utterly false. “He’s resting comfortably. The surgery to remove the bullet went well, and there doesn’t appear to be any permanent damage, I’m happy to say,” Freeman offered with a tired smile. “Once we get him settled in, you’ll be allowed to see him.” “We should go, Kristy,” John murmured. She nodded, the gesture vague, then seemed to pull herself together. “Yes, just give me a moment, John.” Before he could object, she had left his side. “Tell Peter I’ll call him when he’s feeling better.” She whispered the statement to Captain Markham. She was oblivious to the sharp annoyance her words evoked in Karen Wheeler, but, again, John saw it all too clearly, and his suspicions grew. “Why don’t you stay and tell him yourself?” Karen suggested, her challenging gaze directed at the man who watched them from the other side of the room. “I don’t think Peter is going to want to see me,” Kristy told her with a flicker of smile. “Besides, I’ve kept John here far too long as it is. If you’ll excuse me,” she added, and turned to meet the cool gaze of the captain that still watched her. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Captain.” *

*

*

Peter fought his way out of the fog he was mired in and coughed slightly as awareness began to return. The hiccup of sound, and the motion woke an intense, encompassing pain and he instantly regretted being so hasty about the need to be conscious. The soft, gentle stroke of a hand on his forehead told him Karen was with him and he relaxed. The shudders of anguish gradually receded and he forced his eyes open. “How long have I been out?” he asked, after he’d been given a sip 40

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of water to take away the cotton-wool feeling inside his mouth. “Overnight,” Markham told him, stepping into view behind Karen Wheeler’s small form. “They removed the bullet from your shoulder.” Peter could feel the thick bandaging that cushioned most of his left side, and panic seized him. If his left side was screwed up— Markham must have seen the fear that rose in his eyes and he placed a steadying hand on Peter’s chest. “There’s no permanent damage.” The relief in the dazed brown eyes was touching. Peter let his thoughts wander for a moment, then the memory surfaced. He clutched at Markham’s hand and the captain leaned down to him to catch the strained words. “Kris… Is she okay? She was there when…” “She’s fine, Peter.” “God! I’m so tired,” Peter gasped, surprised at the energy even this limited conversation was requiring. “Rest,” Markham suggested, his quiet tone laced with steel. “We’ll be here if you need us.” “Us?” “Yeah, Pete,” Karen teased. “You’ve had us up all night, as it is.” Secure and reassured, Peter relaxed, and let the haze of medication lull him back into darkness. *

*

*

Kristy hadn’t said a word during the drive back to her apartment, and Smythe was unusually reluctant to broach the subject of the shooting. The blood stains on her jacket, and the dried patches that clung to her hair were eloquent testimony to how close she’d been to the cop when he was hit. That proximity angered John. He parked his car in her space and led her to the elevator. She leaned on him during the short ride to the seventeenth floor flat she’d rented a few months ago. Once they were inside the comfortable 41

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apartment, she headed directly for the bedroom. A few minutes later, Smythe heard the sound of the shower running. He went to the phone and placed a call. It took only a few moments to reach the other party. “There’s been a change of plan,” he snapped. “Someone tried to kill Peter King tonight, and Kristy Hawthorne was with him at the time. Find out who the shooter was and who hired him!” He listened to the explanation, and his expression darkened with each word. “I don’t particularly give a damn how you do it, just get me that information before someone dies,” he interrupted. “I’ll deposit your fee as soon as you’ve brought me something I can use, is that understood?” After receiving an affirmation to that detail, he put the phone back on the table. *

*

*

The soothing flow of water was a balm to Kristy’s weary body, and she leaned against the wall, eyes closed for a long time. It wouldn’t release her—over and over she saw the shooting play out in her mind. The images she couldn’t forget were the worst ones, like Peter’s shocked, pain-filled eyes glancing off hers as he spun into a collision with her car. And the spray of his blood hanging in the air before finding her and branding her in a way she’d never escape. Choking sobs churned within her, demanded freedom, and she covered her face with her hands as she started to slide down the water slicked wall. Smythe’s arms caught and held her as he stepped into the shower. He gave the glass panel a push, let it shut them into the steamy humidity of the stall, and pulled her back against his body. He kissed her shoulder and whispered comforting words to her while she cried. When she stopped shaking a long time later, he turned her to face him. Red-rimmed topaz eyes were filled with gratitude and love, and she curled into his arms, pressed tightly to him. 42

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By the time John was through washing her hair, his intention to leave her and go to the office was weakening. The fire glittering in her golden gaze was something he’d grown intimately familiar with over the past month, and he could feel his body stir with an equally intense response. When she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into him, he shut off the water and smiled in anticipation. “Make it go away, John,” she whispered into his neck. Her eyes shut tight against memories that no doubt continued to torment her. Smythe turned her face up to meet his kiss and his hands began a restless exploration of her body. Minutes later he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. *

*

*

“Hi!” Peter’s vision cleared slowly and he grinned. Karen’s lovely, smiling face hovered close to his, and she kissed his cheek. “Hi,” he murmured weakly. “You really know how to show a girl an unforgettable time on a first date,” she teased. “I bet Kristy’s not gonna forget this for some time.” “How is she?” he asked. Despite the drugs, he hadn’t missed the hint of real concern in Karen’s eyes when she mentioned Smythe’s assistant. “Honestly? I think she’s okay, Peter. Apparently neither of them has shown up at the office today, so I don’t expect she’s alone.” Peter nodded, and chose not to comment on the lady’s choice of shelter if she was as frightened as he suspected she might be. It wasn’t up to him to tell anyone who to love. “Which reminds me,” Karen continued with a puzzled frown. “Why was she with you last night?” “She called and asked me out,” Peter told her with a look that he meant to be a leer. 43

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Karen grinned at him. “I guess that blows your theory about her and Smythe playing house.” Not exactly, Peter thought, but he kept the observation to himself. “Captain Markham is having a forensic team go over Kristy’s car.” “You don’t think Smythe had anything to do with this, do you?” he asked. It didn’t make sense, but he was beginning to suspect she’d hang just about anything on the administrator at this point. “Something he said to me in his office makes me think he might have,” Karen conceded, a frown creasing her forehead. “That wouldn’t make a lot of sense, Karen,” Peter answered. His voice had dropped to a rasp as he continued the fight to remain conscious. “It would if he’s warning me by hurting you,” she declared, as tears filled her huge eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “I hope I’m wrong, Peter. But I don’t think…” “His…” Peter stopped and started again. “Kristy was with me, Karen. She could have been killed. Do you really think he’d set her up like that?” “I don’t think he cares enough about anyone to worry about moral repercussions,” she retorted. “Kristy might be nothing more than another exploitable asset to him.” “That’s cold. She’s nice, Karen. She’s got lousy taste in men, but she’s not like Smythe.” “I think she’s in love with him, Peter. That means when the chips are down, it’s going to be him she protects. She was the one responsible for clearing things up at the office. The board members think she’s brilliant, and she supports Smythe as totally as my father does.” For a minute, Peter was silent. The hesitation hadn’t escaped his notice, and he wondered if Karen was really so blinded by her dislike of Smythe that she didn’t see the intimacy of his relationship with his assistant. Of course, if he hadn’t actually seen them together, would he 44

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have known? He dismissed the idle speculation and got back to the conversation they’d been having. “She’s good at her job,” Peter began, then stopped when Karen glared at him. “Okay, have it your way. But I think you’re wrong. I don’t believe Smythe would risk her.” Karen’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why are you so sure he wouldn’t?” “It’s got nothing to do with Smythe,” Peter answered honestly. “God!” Karen moaned. “What is it with this woman? Now you think she’s wonderful, too.” “I didn’t say that.” She scowled. “You didn’t have to.” “Why don’t you like her?” Peter asked. “That’s the problem, “ she said with a sigh. “I do like her, and I think she’s an asset to the company. I just wish she wasn’t so loyal to Smythe.” “Have you tried talking to her?” “Yes!” “Oh?” Karen had the good grace to look chastised, and she squirmed for a few seconds before she answered the challenge in his eyes. “Okay! So I haven’t exactly chosen the right moments. But, she doesn’t make it easy.” “She might say the same thing about you,” he noted quietly. “Who’s side—” She held up her hand. “Never mind. I know, this isn’t about sides. You’re right. I’ll arrange to have lunch with her, and maybe we can find some way to work together. If she’s the person you seem to think she is, we may be able to get her to help us expose Smythe.” “Maybe you should wait until the second date before you bring that up,” Peter suggested with a smile. 45

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“Go to sleep, King!” she retorted with a grin. “You’re starting to talk strange, even for you.” *

*

*

“What have we got, Dave?” Markham asked when the door to his office opened after a cursory knock. “Ballistics reports,” the sergeant replied. He dropped the file on the edge of Caleb’s desk and sat in the chair opposite the captain. “It’s pretty much what we expected. They found a 9mm slug in the doorframe of the car, and it’s a match for the one they dug out of the kid’s shoulder.” “Any clue who might have fired the shots?” “One of the hotshots in ballistics went over to the scene and the condensed version is that the probable trajectory gave them the shooter’s position, but there wasn’t much else to find.” Exactly nothing, Caleb thought. He nodded and leaned back in his chair, his right hand absently massaging the knot of tension that had settled at the base of his neck. Dave didn’t look any happier than he felt. “There’s no way this can be linked to Smythe and the Wheeler situation?” he speculated, fully aware that he was asking Dave to make an impossible judgment. The sergeant shook his head. “Is that your suspicion, or Peter’s over-active imagination at work?” Markham laughed softly. “I’m not sure,” he admitted with a shrug. “Who’s the lady Peter was with?” “Kristy Hawthorne, Smythe’s assistant,” Caleb told his friend. “She’s clean. Peter ran her through the system a few days ago.” “I thought he was taking a personal interest in Karen Wheeler,” Dave noted. “I hope he is,” Caleb muttered. “Kristy Hawthorne is Smythe’s property.” 46

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“Maybe Smythe’s a real possessive lover?” Dave proposed in a halfhearted attempt at humor. “I wish it were that simple.” “With Peter, nothing is ever that simple,” the sergeant grumbled. He left the report on Caleb’s desk, rose, and left the captain’s office. *

*

*

Karen juggled the bag of groceries she’d picked up and tried to find the key to her apartment. Seconds later, she almost dropped everything when the door swung open and Smythe smiled down at her. “I thought it was you,” he said with a raised eyebrow. He held the door open wide and waited for her to come inside. “What the hell are you doing in my apartment, Smythe?” Karen demanded once she’d dropped the bag and her purse into the nearest chair. “And, for that matter, how did you get in?” John crossed the room and picked up the glass of wine he’d left on an end-table. He sipped at the red liquid, and turned to look at her. “Your landlady let me in. I told her I was your fiancé and that I wanted to surprise you. This is an excellent vintage, Karen,” he added with a smile. His entire manner was polite and would have charmed her—had it been anyone else who made the observation. She ignored the remark and flung her coat aside with the rest of her things. She made a mental note to have a talk with Mrs. Morgan. “I’m glad the wine meets with your approval. Now if you’d like to explain why you broke into my home, I suggest you hurry. I’m on my way out again.” “To the hospital?” Smythe said with a smile as he wandered around the cozy room. “To see the unfortunate Detective King.” Karen felt the familiar apprehension creeping over her as she watched his panther-like prowl of her small living room. He was predatory and dangerous. Why couldn’t her father see it? She tried to 47

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push down the tiny knot of dread that was rapidly rising in her throat. “Is there a point to all this, Smythe?” she asked, thankful her voice remained calmer than she, herself, was feeling. “There is,” he assured her, and his manner was suddenly all business. “I think we need to discuss a few things, Karen.” “We have nothing to discuss!” “What about this unlucky accident that’s befallen your friend, Peter King?” Karen felt her blood turn to fire, and she stared at him in undisguised hatred. “Why?” she whispered. “I told you to stay out of my business,” he reminded her with a casual shrug. “Now you’ve endangered someone who is very important to me. I won’t tolerate that.” “You won’t tolerate it!” She laughed, the sound tainted with mocking scorn. “You’re not taking my inheritance from me, Smythe. I’ll do whatever I have to to make sure of it!” “Karen, I’m going to offer you a solution to this little dilemma, and you are going to accept it,” Smythe decreed in a quiet voice. He crossed the space that separated them, took her arm, then led her to a seat on the couch. He sat on the low coffee table directly in front of her. “We’re going to get married.” For several tense minutes, there was only the growing shock expanding in the air around them. Then, she leaped to her feet and ran to the other side of the room, keeping as far away from him as possible. “You really are insane, Smythe!” He laughed, obviously amused by her horror. “Don’t be melodramatic, Karen. This is a perfect solution to our problem.” “Perfect for whom?” she shouted. “I wouldn’t marry you to save my life!” 48

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“What about to save your company, and your lifestyle?” John inquired in an icy tone. Again, the stunned silence engulfed them as she absorbed the threat in his words. “You can’t be serious.” “I assure you, I’m very serious.” He stood and walked toward her, smiling when she strategically moved so that the bulk of an armchair prevented possible contact. “If you wish to avoid further scandal, and the possible ruin of the company, you will agree to marry me. In a few months, after you’ve signed Wheeler Research and Technology over to me, we’ll discuss a divorce, and a very sizable settlement.” “I’m not going to marry you.” John waited a moment, as if to give her the opportunity to change her mind, then he bent to retrieve his coat from the chair where he’d left it. “Think about it, Karen. You could save several people, including yourself, a great deal of pain.” “I’ll go to the police,” she threatened. “No, you won’t. You don’t know what I can prove. If you start this again, I’ll make sure you spend the rest of your days in an institution. Whether it’s a psychiatric ward or a prison cell is irrelevant to me.” He paused, and when his smile returned a moment later, she knew all the fright she’d just succumbed to had been etched into her face so vividly he’d read every thought as clearly as he’d read a stock report. “I’ll expect to have your answer in the morning.” Without another word, he draped his coat over his arm and left the apartment. *

*

*

Had it really only been a little more than a month since she’d decided to accept John’s offer and work for him at Wheeler? Kristy smiled to herself as she slid behind the wheel of her rented Porsche. John’s taste in cars was as rich as his other tastes, she reflected with a shiver of delight. He hadn’t returned to the office, nor was he at his 49

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apartment. With free time on her hands, Kristy decided to take the evening to shop and go to a movie. Her cheerful mood carried her through an inane comedy film, and an hour of window shopping. She checked in with her service, discovered she’d received no calls, and tried to put her disappointment into perspective. He was probably tied up in some boring business conference. She made her way back to her car and left the shopping center. Instead of heading back to her apartment, she turned the car into the late-evening traffic and cruised the streets as she allowed her thoughts to wander. She hadn’t been this happy in years, and the sense of impending disaster was gradually taking the joy from her mood. Kristy wasn’t prone to looking at anything through rose-tinted glasses, and she had no illusions about Smythe. He was ruthless, and dangerous to anyone who got close to him. Yet, in spite of the knowledge that she was probably going to end up broken hearted, Kristy couldn’t get enough of the man. She knew he was plotting to own Wheeler Research and Technology, just as she knew he was the probable possessor of the embezzled Wheeler funds. It certainly wasn’t Robert Williams. Kristy had accessed his accounts, and he was not hiding a fortune. John, on the other hand, was unaccountably wealthy for a man who’d never owned property or business shares until a year or two ago. Loving him was going to cost her her happiness, she knew. *

*

*

The following day brought new doubts to Kristy’s mind when she entered Smythe’s office without knocking, and found herself face to face with Karen Wheeler. “I’m sorry,” she offered, startled more than she should have been. “I didn’t realize you had a meeting scheduled for this morning,” she continued, her eyes locked with John’s watchful stare. She knew this 50

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expression well. It meant he’d just won a fight of some importance. What she didn’t know was the nature of the battle. “It’s not a business meeting,” he replied smoothly. “This is a social visit, isn’t it, Karen?” Karen speared him with a look that bordered on lethal. Kristy felt a shudder of uneasiness creep up her spine, and she looked from Karen’s careful masque of neutrality to Smythe’s cool, mocking smile. She dropped the report she’d wanted to discuss, leaving it in the center of the paperwork that adorned his desk. With a nod at Karen, she turned to leave. She was halted by Smythe’s voice as she reached the door. “Karen and I are having lunch, Kristy. I expect to be back in the office by two. If there are any problems, you know how to reach me.” Stunned, she merely nodded and slipped from the room without a sound. A few minutes later, from the safety of her office on the opposite side of the hall, Kristy watched them leave. The furious pounding behind her eyes promised a raging headache would plague the rest of her day. *

*

*

“Why are you doing this?” Karen asked. Smythe parked his car, a shining silver Jaguar, in the hospital lot and turned to look at her. He reached across the seat to touch her hair, brushed a lock off one high, curving cheek, and laughed softly when she jerked away from him like she’d been burned. “You know why,” he answered. “Now, do make this convincing, Karen.” She followed him into the elevator and tried to force a smile onto her face. “You can have the company, Smythe,” she said, her voice shaken. “It’s not quite that simple,” he told her. “You don’t actually own Wheeler as long as your father is alive. Once you do own the shares, no 51

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one will find it odd that you sign over control of them to your husband.” “I tried to go see him,” she looked up at him, her dislike vividly obvious. “He’s been moved to another hospital, but they wouldn’t tell me where.” “He needed specialized care,” John responded. “Don’t worry, Karen,” he chided. “I’ve taken care of everything.” “That’s what worries me,” she muttered. “Smile, darling,” he taunted and caught her elbow as they left the elevator and headed for Peter’s room. *

*

*

Peter glanced up when the door to his room swung inward, and the smile that started to transform his features was lost halfway into the expression. “Hi, Peter,” Karen greeted him with forced cheerfulness and went to place a light kiss on his cheek. Peter grabbed her arm and held her long enough to hiss into her ear, “What the hell are you doing with him?!” “Detective King,” John inclined his head briefly, then turned his curious gaze to the woman at King’s side. “I’m Jennifer Markham—Caleb Markham’s wife” she said as she rose and extended her hand. “You’re John Smythe,” she continued with a tiny smile. “I’ve heard a great deal about you, Mr. Smythe.” “John,” he requested, and brought her small hand up to his lips in a courtly gesture. “I hope you won’t let Detective King’s opinion of me prevent us from being friends, Mrs. Markham.” Jennifer smiled. “Peter’s opinion will have nothing to do with it,” she replied. In spite of himself, Smythe laughed at her forthright manner, the sound filled with soft, vibrant warmth. “What are you doing here, Smythe?” Peter snapped, his grip still 52

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held Karen at his bedside. “I doubt it’s to check on my health.” “You’re right, Detective King,” he answered and came to a stand at the foot of Peter’s bed. “We’re here because Karen has something she wants to tell you. She thought it best that you hear it from her.” Peter’s eyes narrowed with suspicion and he glowered at the young woman who eased away from him with careful determination. When she came to a halt next to Smythe, and he placed a possessive hand on her shoulder, it took all Peter’s composure to remain in his bed. Not that he’d get far if he tried to move. “Well?” he prodded, when Karen seemed disinclined to speak. “I wanted to tell you that Smythe—John…” She stumbled when Peter’s scowl became more pronounced by her use of Smythe’s first name. “What Karen is trying to say,” Smythe inserted smoothly, “is that she’s agreed to marry me.” “What?” The single word cracked like a whip in the shocked stillness of the hospital room, and this time it required Jennifer’s firm hand on his right shoulder to keep Peter in the bed. “It’s really what I want, Peter,” Karen said, sounding almost desperate. “We’ve talked about it, a lot, and I realize I’ve been wrong about a lot of things. Please try to understand?” “Understand?” Peter made the word sound like a curse. “You’re kidding! This asshole systematically kills off your family, tries to have you committed to a psychiatric hospital, bleeds your company—” “That’s enough, Peter,” Jennifer whispered fiercely. When Peter would have continued his tirade, she shook her head and repeated her words more firmly. He stared at her in disbelief, but he was quiet. “This is what I want, Peter,” Karen said again. “I hoped you would be happy for me. All the insanity that’s been part of my life can be put behind me. Can’t you at least understand that?” 53

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“No.” Smythe could feel the tension becoming thicker with each moment that passed and decided it was time to leave. Karen wouldn’t hold out for much longer. He tightened the loose grip he’d maintained on her shoulder, and began to ease her toward the door. She didn’t take her eyes off the furious young man who glared at her from the bed, his dark eyes snapping rage at her, and contempt at John. “We should be going, darling,” he said smoothly. “There’s a great deal of planning to be taken care of, and I think the detective needs to rest. He doesn’t look at all well,” Smythe couldn’t resist the taunt as he opened the door and held Peter’s stare for another moment. “I’ll come by later, Peter,” she said in a weak, choked voice. “Maybe we can talk about all this?” “We’re definitely going to talk,” Peter replied. It sounded more like a threat than an answer. *

*

*

The day had been too long and hellishly frantic, Kristy thought as she gathered up some last minute paperwork and checked her watch. After making a brief return to his office, Smythe had left again. His preoccupation had been impossible to miss. He also hadn’t bothered to let her know when, or if, he’d be back. Since it was nearly six o’clock, she’d pretty much decided he wasn’t going to turn up at all. She sighed and wondered again if she had set herself up for an even bigger disappointment than the one she’d suffered in her last job. Getting involved with the wrong man seemed to be emerging as her personal trademark in recent years. The unpleasant introspection was interrupted a second later when John’s secretary, Sharlene, poked her head into Kristy’s office and smiled. She appeared ready to leave the building, too. “Mr. Smythe just called with a message for you,” Sharlene said. Kristy stopped putting files in her briefcase and turned to look at the 54

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secretary. She took the note, and watched Sharlene leave the office before she opened the single folded sheet of paper. A few minutes later she was on her way to the parking garage, smiling and humming. Kristy dug out the keys to her Porche, unlocked the door, and slid behind the wheel. The Imperial Inn, she mused. The twitch of excitement in her stomach made her shake for a moment The Imperial Inn was aptly named, she decided as she entered the lobby of the old mansion. This was one of the vast, Victorian style estates that had been built near the turn of the century, and recently converted into profitable businesses. The place was stunning, she thought, staring openly at the luxurious decor. It reeked of wealth and class discrimination. John had probably paid a fortune for a room in this establishment, and she was thrilled to be the object of such extravagance from him. She went to the desk and the clerk—a young man who looked no older than Peter King, she noted with an inward grin—smiled a welcome at her. “Miss Hawthorne?” Startled, she nodded. “Yes, how did you know?” “Mr. Smythe’s description of you was very accurate.” He grinned. “I’m Jason Potter, the Manager. Mr. Smythe has been delayed, but wants you to know he will be arriving shortly. Would you like to have something in the bar, or sent to the room?” “I think I’ll go up to the room,” Kristy told him with a smile. “Maybe I can clear away some work before he gets here.” Jason nodded, gave her the key to room number seven, and wished her a pleasant stay. She declined an escort to the room, and headed up the massive, curving staircase that led to the second floor. Once she’d entered the room and deposited her case on the antique desk that sat in one corner, Kristy took a good look around. The setting was enchanting and romantic. The room itself was decorated in soft 55

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shades of blue, with rose tints here and there. The wallpaper was palest blue, and the furniture a deep, rich walnut. The bed dominated the comfortable room; it was a huge, four-poster, priceless antique, complete with a canopy trimmed in ivory lace. She spotted the shimmer of white silk on the coverlet and went to look. She smiled when she reached for the beautiful items that had been laid out for her. The gown was the sheerest, lightest silk she’d ever seen, and it caressed her skin like a breath of air when she ran delicate fingers over the material. She picked up the gown and shivered when she let herself imagine what it would feel like against her skin. Now that she saw it up close, she realized the color resembled mother of pearl, and the material had an opaque quality to it. The gown was simply cut, and the straps were wisps of finely braided, snowy white lace. The robe was made of heavier silk, and had full, softly ballooned sleeves, with another froth of transparent lace at the cuffs. Delighted beyond words, she scooped up the lovely garments and headed for the bathroom. Less than fifteen minutes later, Kristy reentered the bedroom and stopped short when another surprise greeted her. Candles had been lit, champagne was waiting, and John was pouring the sparkling wine into crystal flutes when her soft gasp caught his attention. It was difficult to say which of them was more pleasantly surprised. Her gaze wandered over him, enjoying the casual, relaxed manner she so rarely saw in him. He’d removed his tie and jacket, and now wore only light grey pants and his shirt. The first three buttons on his white shirt were open, and the combination of pale colors seemed the perfect complement to his fair hair and blue eyes. “I…” For the first time in years, Kristy didn’t know what to say in a man’s presence. “This is wonderful, John,” she finally whispered. “You look beautiful, darling,” he replied, his voice as soft as the atmosphere, and every bit as seductive. He finished pouring the champagne and brought a glass to her. As he handed the crystal flute to 56

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her, he bent to cover her lips with his. The caress was gentle and provocative, and it was almost a full minute later before he finally pulled away, with obvious reluctance. Kristy sipped at the sparkling wine and tried to calm the erratic pounding of her heart. The entire scene was something out of a dream, and she wanted it to go on forever, despite the whimsy of the realization. The promise smoldering in his deep blue eyes was awakening a familiar warmth inside her, and she immediately wanted nothing more than to feel his tall, powerful body claiming hers. She reached out to tug at the buttons on his shirt, amazed to see the tremble in her fingers. He laughed low in his throat and she felt the stain of embarrassment tinge her cheeks for the second time that evening. This is ridiculous, she admonished herself silently. John took the glass from her hand, set it on the dresser, and placed his glass, still half-full, next to it. Then he turned his attention back to her, easily matching the urgency that emanated from her. He pulled the tie at her waist, opened the silk robe, and smiled his approval when he slid the material off her shoulders. Kristy knew the translucent gown hid nothing, merely clouded the revealed form beneath it. She shivered when his sensitive fingertips traced the curve of her collarbone, then continued along the stringy straps of the gown. Her eyes closed and she tensed in anticipation as his touch moved lower. His hands covered her breasts in a warm, arousing caress and she leaned into him with a sigh. His thumbs brushed over the underside of her breasts before moving to the sensitive tips, and the small buds of her nipples become firm and erect beneath the persuasive stimulation. Her arms encircled his neck and she pulled his head down to meet her eager kiss. His tongue filled her mouth, exploring with a hunger she knew well, and she pressed closer to him as his hands glided over her with the same possessiveness that characterized his entire personality. When he eased away from the kiss and went on an oral trek down 57

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her neck, Kristy moaned softly and clung tighter to him. It was always like this with him, she reflected as her body shuddered with enthralled delight—a sweet, exquisite madness that made everything else cease to matter. Her hands moved with their own agenda, stripping him of the lightweight silk shirt so she could caress equally smooth skin. He caught her hands and smiled into her eyes as he backed her toward the bed. She felt the edge of the mattress and sat. John knelt in front of her, but refused to release his light hold on her wrists. His fingers entwined with hers and she arched forward with a soft groan of pleasure when his teeth closed over the hyper-sensitive tip of one rigid nipple. Her breath was coming in strained gasps a minute later when he turned his head to her other breast, and continued to torment her through the film of silk that covered her skin. “God! John, let go of my hands,” she whispered. “Why?” he asked, his voice a low, throaty rasp of sound. She leaned down to cover his lips with hers, her tongue delving deep into the warmth of his mouth, tasting the faint, lingering tang of champagne. He rose as the kiss lengthened and Kristy wriggled back onto the bed until his weight settled over her. His hips thrust into her and she met the demand with a hunger that matched his. He released his hold and her arms slid around him. Her legs tangled in the long, clinging gown she wore. She ignored the impediment as her hands roamed over the broad expanse of his back, before moving to the enticing curve of his buttocks to pull him closer. Long minutes later, John raised himself onto his elbows and stared down into her eyes. Long, tapering fingers traced the arch of her eyebrow and smoothed over her forehead as she smiled up at him. “I love you,” she murmured. She’d never admitted it before, not to John, and for a fleeting second, fear fluttered in her stomach. It vanished an instant later when his mouth crushed hers in a kiss that stole her breath with its intensity. She felt the wispy straps of the 58

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nightgown being tugged down, and another wave of fiery longing flooded her when his heated breath fanned over her exposed skin. The teasing flick of his tongue made her body arch with pleasure, and her fingers smoothed over the fine silkiness of his hair as he sucked an aching nipple into his mouth. His hands ran the length of her body and pulled the flimsy gown steadily upward over the long length of her legs. He shifted off her and his fingers dipped between her thighs to begin a gentle, stroking intrusion into the moist warmth of her body. Her hips answered the tentative probe, and for several minutes he maintained the rhythm. He raised his head to stare down at her again, smiling. Her eyes fluttered closed with the intensity of her need. “Look at me, Kristy,” he demanded in a soft growl. Her eyes opened and locked with the deep blue of his stare. His fingers changed their erotic pattern, and her teeth clenched when he slowed the thrust of motion and pressed harder and deeper into her. An intense gasp of euphoria escaped her and she clutched at his broad shoulders as her hips rose against him. Seconds later, her entire body arched in a spasm of fulfilled rapture. As she caught her breath, John stared down at her. He laughed low in his throat moments later when she pushed him away. He rolled onto his back and she climbed across his thighs. She peeled the gown off with a sensuous stretch, and his hands covered soft, full breasts when she bent over him. He kneaded her firm flesh with gentle pressure. Her hands caressed the molded contours of his chest and enjoyed the solid strength she felt in his body. Supple fingers brushed over his nipples and flicked gently at the erect tips before she traced the line of his ribcage. She crawled higher, then leaned forward again until her hands rested on the bed over his shoulders. She smiled down at him as her hips moved against him in a slow, tantalizing undulation. Soft, low laughter spilled from her lips when he grasped her hips and increased 59

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the force of their contact. She sat back a minute later, and her smile was filled with fire as her hands caressed him through the fabric of his pants. When her touch became firmer and more demanding, John’s breath caught in his throat. A quiet moan slipped from him when she continued the steady stroke and her fingers moved lower between his thighs. “I think we should make you more comfortable,” Kristy purred, her voice husky and thick with desire. She gave his belt a tug, opened it, then quickly unzipped the restricting pants. His hips rose and she pulled briefs and pants down long, muscular legs with deliberate slowness. Once she’d dropped the clothes on the floor with her gown, she turned back to him and straddled his thighs again. He reached for her and his hand tangled in her thick, dark hair as he drew her mouth down to him, the want clear. Kristy shifted her position again, spread his legs, and settled between them as she turned her concentration to making love to him with the full intensity of her devotion to him. She knew every inch of John’s body, and the spasms of pleasure her touch elicited were as exciting to her as they obviously were to him. Soft groans of enjoyment encouraged her, and she was startled minutes later when he eased her away from her erotic activity. The confusion disappeared when he pulled her up to him and rolled. Her arms locked around his back and she cried into his neck when he entered her with a sudden, powerful thrust. The stroke of his hips was slow and strong, and she knew he was deliberately holding back. Her body answered each movement, the shared rhythm of their passion smooth and flawless in its perfection. The languid warmth that filled her quickly became an unbearable inferno, and she urged him with broken whispers and tiny whimpers of sound that were muffled against his shoulder. Her hands cupped his buttocks and felt the smooth play of working muscles beneath her fingers as she massaged firm flesh. 60

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John braced his hands on either side of her and rose so that only the lower parts of their bodies were melded together. His features were tense with concentration and fierce desire, and he bent to place a light kiss on her parted lips. Her legs tangled around his and he thrust into her with greater strength. The shudder of response that rippled through her was shared, and he continued to hold her gaze as he finally gave in to his own release. His hips moved hard and rapidly against her, and he smiled when she bit back a moan that was nearly a scream. The explosive force of his climax left him shaking and gasping for air. It seemed a very long time before they could move again, and John carefully eased away from Kristy, the loss of contact creating another shiver in them both. She curled into his arms, content and peaceful in the glow of her love. *

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They eventually found the energy to shower, then climbed into the massive bed. Kristy snuggled up to him with a sigh and rested her head on his shoulder. John kissed her forehead and let his thoughts wander. He knew he’d never experience this particular satisfaction with his bride-to-be. He’d been with few women who made him feel the way Kristy did, and he fully expected to continue their relationship after his marriage to Karen. “What are you thinking about?” Kristy asked, her voice sleepy but unmistakably happy. “Marriage,” he murmured, and tilted her face up to his so he could drop a light kiss on her parted lips. “What?” “Karen’s agreed to marry me,” he told her, and watched her closely for reaction to the announcement. “K-Karen?” It was little more than a shocked stutter of sound. “I intend to end her interference, once and for all.” “You’re going to marry Karen Wheeler?” 61

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There was still more confusion than anger in her tone, but Smythe knew the wrath would emerge, and soon. “Karen has nothing to do with us, darling,” he soothed. “I certainly don’t plan to lose you because of her.” “Don’t you think that’s rather irrelevant if you really intend to marry her?” Kristy whispered. “She may have one or two objections to her husband spending his nights with another woman!” “Quite the contrary.” John laughed. “I think the arrangement will suit her nicely.” “And what about me, John?” Kristy demanded. She pulled away from him and sat up to hug her knees tightly to her chest. “Do you really think I want to be a corporate mistress?” “It’s only temporary,” he assured her. When he tried to reach for her she jerked away from him with a violence that startled him. “Kristy, for Christ’s sake, let’s not get virtuous and naive at this late stage. I’d hardly be the first married man you’ve had an affair with,” he pointed out. “You bastard!” she hissed. She was trying not to let him see her anguish, but tears clouded her vision and streamed from her eyes. “I will not be your after hours fuck!” She glared at him, then slapped him with the full impact of her rage. When she would have left the bed, John grabbed her arm and yanked her back. The force of the pull upset her balance and she was flat on her back when he pinned her beneath him. “You’re overreacting, darling,” he whispered and kept his temper in check. He wasn’t going to let her leave, and he had no interest in engaging in a loud, drawn-out argument with her. “Get off me, John,” she gritted. “Or what?” He didn’t give her time to answer. His mouth descended on hers with ruthless sensuality and his hips began to move against her. He barely noticed the blows she rained down on his back as 62

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he concentrated on reawakening her body’s craving for his touch. Controlling Kristy was only possible when he had her naked and writhing beneath him—and John fully intended to use that weakness to make her see reason. “Don’t, John.” Her voice was low and icy with the depth of her fury when he broke the kiss minutes later. She tried again to dislodge him, and he laughed at the futility of her struggle. “I loathe you.” “Of course, you don’t,” he murmured and began to nuzzle her neck. Her anger was as arousing as her earlier enthusiasm had been, and he was more than ready to make love to her again. He shifted his position slightly, then slipped into her body with a hard thrust. The unexpectedness of the penetration made her gasp, but he refused to move, choosing instead to merely enjoy the intimate union. He caught her face between his hands and forced her to meet his stare. “It’s temporary, darling,” he repeated, his voice intense with barely restrained excitement. “I don’t want Karen Wheeler, I want her family’s company. I have my reasons for doing this, Kristy.” “I don’t want to be your whore, John.” The words came with tears. His body was begging for motion and he smiled down into her glittering topaz eyes as he started to move within her. The slow, gentle stroke of his hips began to affect her, and he felt the instinctive movement of her body answering his rhythm. Reassured, he bent to cover her mouth with a seductive kiss. He eased away just enough to capture her golden gaze with his, and his voice was a low, rough caress of velvet richness when he whispered, “The only woman I want is you, Kristy. Just be patient, darling.” The words, combined with the sensuous motion of his body against her, had the desired effect. The anger that had filled her eyes vanished, and was rapidly replaced by the much more familiar adoration he’d 63

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grown accustomed to seeing. Secure and satisfied, Smythe buried his face in her shoulder as he gave himself over to the shudders of hungry passion that quickly consumed him. Her arms tightened around him and she murmured his name with a soft sigh as she strained to meet the demand in his possession. *

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Kristy hesitated for a moment and stared at the closed door as panic rose within her again. Had they told Peter the news? She doubted he’d reacted with a great deal of pleasure. No more than she had, she thought bitterly. Squaring her shoulders, she pushed open the heavy hospital door and went into the quiet room. Peter was alone, and he watched her through half-closed eyes as she approached his bed. “I was beginning to think you’d never drop by,” he said dryly. Startled by the unexpected statement, Kristy waited for him to open his eyes and look at her. When he did, she almost wished he hadn’t. Anger emanated from his dark stare with the impact of a physical strike. “When are they going to release you?” she asked, uncertain of the response she was inviting. “Soon enough to attend the wedding,” Peter assured her, his tone acid with the sting of his fury. Kristy winced and actually backed up a step before Peter’s right hand shot out and closed on her wrist. He pulled her closer and she looked down at him. “I shouldn’t have come, Peter,” she whispered. “I knew you’d be angry.” “Angry doesn’t begin to describe how I feel right now,” Peter said. A flash of guilt crept through him when he saw her rubbing the reddened limb. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 64

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She shrugged and sat on the edge of his bed. “How are you feeling? Other than like you want to kill something, or someone?” “How do you feel about the upcoming marriage?” he countered, watching her closely for reaction. She closed her eyes to hide the shimmer of tears that blurred her gaze. “What do you expect me to say?” she asked, her voice rough and thick with repressed emotion. “I was as surprised as you were. Maybe more so.” “Does this mean you’re through with Smythe, or does the inconvenience of a fiancée simply make sleeping with him a little trickier?” Kristy stared at him in astonishment, unable to grasp a reply that would answer the bitterness she heard in his tone. “Why are you so determined to hurt me, Peter?” He ran his hands through his hair and sighed heavily. “I’m sorry—again,” he told her with a trace of his usual gentleness. “I just feel so damn helpless right now. I can’t believe Karen wants to marry him. She can’t stand the sight of him. But, she expects me to believe all that’s changed in a few days.” “Maybe it has,” Kristy countered softly. “John’s a very persuasive man.” Peter shook his head. “I know how you feel about him, Kris. But as you pointed out to me once, you and Karen are different. You might be able to survive his version of love, but she can’t.” This time it was Kristy’s tone that was bitter and hard. “I didn’t think I’d ever hear you make that sound like a positive trait.” Peter watched her for several moments. “He doesn’t deserve your loyalty, Kris,” he eventually said. “And he certainly doesn’t deserve your love.” 65

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“In the end, Peter, we all get what we deserve,” Kristy noted with false indifference. “Isn’t that an ideal you hold true.” “Ideals have nothing to do with Smythe, or anything about him,” Peter retorted. “Why won’t you see him for what he is? What kind of hold does he have on you?” Kristy felt the flow of excitement surge through her veins when images of the previous night filled her mind. Her laughter was sad, tinged with self-mockery. “I know John much better than you, or Karen. I see what he is, and I also see the things that he hides, even from himself. It’s part of the reason I love him.” She shrugged “As to the hold, what do you think it might be?” “How are you going to feel when it’s Karen sharing his bed?” The question was barely more than a whisper of air between them. “You said it yourself, she hates him. Why would she want to sleep with him?” “What she wants may have very little to do with what actually happens,” Peter returned. “He’s not going to rape her, Peter.” “Why wouldn’t he? He may think it’ll help him maintain his control over her, and make it easily for him to manipulate her. She’d be terrified of him.” “She is terrified,” Kristy snapped. “That’s why she’s in this mess. As to why he wouldn’t do it, you’ll just have to trust me on that score. John Smythe would not rape anyone.” “He’d have to rape Karen to get near her,” Peter stated, his tone inflexible and sure. “And there’s the little matter of the wedding night to consider, isn’t there, Kris?” “I really don’t want to discuss this with you, Peter,” she said quietly, suddenly nervous again. “It’s not my favorite topic, either. But it’s not going to go away.” “What do you want from me?” she asked, trapping him with a direct 66

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stare. “Help me put him away,” Peter answered without hesitation. “You don’t want me to tell you what I think of that suggestion, do you?” Peter smiled. “No. But I did have to ask.” Kristy leaned down to kiss his cheek. “I have to go.” She rose. “Think about what I said, Kris,” he asked, dark eyes serious. “There’s nothing to think about, Peter,” she told him honestly. She was at the door when she looked back. “He won’t hurt her, Peter. Not that way.” *

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John sensed Kristy’s growing hurt at his marriage to Karen. In public she put on a good face, but in private she was less in control of her emotions. As evidenced by the afternoon he found her alone in her office, crying. “What’s wrong, darling?” he asked as he came into her office and shut the door with a solid bang. Kristy shook her head and wiped away the tears that streaked her face. “I have a headache, John. It’s really nothing.” Smythe leaned against the closed door and measured the truth in her excuse. He glanced at his watch. It was after five and the office was nearly empty. “Why don’t we have a quiet dinner, at my place?” he suggested. “I’m tired,” she told him with a shake of her head. Smythe felt the distance she wanted, and it irritated him. The announcement of his marriage to Karen had occurred two weeks ago, yet she was clearly still upset. He walked around her desk and came to a stop behind her. His hands settled on her shoulders and he began a gentle massage of the tight knots of tension beneath his fingers. He let his fingertips stray into the soft mane of ebony hair and quickly tugged loose the ornate coil that kept the unruly locks out of her way. 67

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“John…” He eased the collar of her blouse away from her neck and his lips touched the sensitive skin at the corner of her jaw, then began to move lower. The ring of the telephone broke the spell and he cursed softly when Sharlene’s voice came over the intercom. “It’s Saint Maria’s Hospital, line one. They want to speak to Mr. Smythe.” He reached over to take the call, but kept one hand firmly on Kristy’s shoulder. The conversation was brief, and when he dropped the receiver back into place, he moved to sit on the edge of her desk. “Douglas Wheeler is dead.” The words were flat, devoid of emotion. With a sigh, Kristy rose and slipped her arms around his neck. He returned the embrace. “Will you be seeing Karen tonight? She needs to be told.” John hesitated. His plans for the evening had been a damn sight more pleasing a few minutes ago, and they’d had nothing to do with Karen Wheeler. Still, there was little choice. “Go to my apartment, darling. I’ll join you as soon as I can.” “John,” she started to protest, and was cut off when he kissed her with a hungry intensity that left her flushed and breathless. “I want you waiting in my bed when I get home, Kristy,” he told her, his voice rough and textured with desire. *

*

*

The funeral was a small, painful affair. Douglas Wheeler’s illness was known to those who’d been part of his business world, but there was little evidence that he would be missed if the number of people gathered in the cemetery was an indication. Peter, out of hospital and back at work, albeit mostly desk work, stayed in the background as Karen’s father was lowered into the ground. Smythe was at her side, his expression openly disinterested as 68

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he endured the services, and Karen’s grief. For her part, she seemed oblivious to his presence. Peter glanced around and met the wary gaze of Kristy Hawthorne. For a moment, he felt a distinct flare of anger. She was waiting in the wings for Smythe, some inner part of Peter insisted. The cynicism wasn’t natural, though, and he knew he was wrong when he spotted the tears that streaked her face. As soon as Karen walked away from the open grave, he met Smythe’s cool stare, but the administrator made no move to intercept his fiancée. Karen walked straight into Peter’s arms and he held her as sobs finally broke from deep inside her. As he held Karen, Peter watched Kristy turn and leave. Minutes later, he spotted Smythe’s tall figure following his assistant. Fighting down the surge of anger he felt, Peter stayed close to Karen as she tried to accept the sympathetic support and kind words of the few people who had shown up for the services. *

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The reading of the will offered no real surprises. The single most significant clause being the ownership of Wheeler Research and Technology. The codicil that was read last gave Karen the shock of her life. Half the controlling stock in Wheeler had been bequeathed to John Smythe, the other half to Karen. They now jointly owned the largest block of shares. The only thing that would change that circumstance came in the shape of a provision that answered many questions for Karen. If an accident led to her death within the next six months, the 26 percent share of her stock would automatically default to Smythe. The same proviso was applicable to his shares. After the six month period, they were each free to dispose of the stock in any way they chose. Smythe had known, she realized as she watched him rise and shake her father’s attorney’s hand. This was why he wanted to marry her. “Miss Wheeler, I’d like to extend my condolences, again. Your 69

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father was a good man,” the solicitor said with a gentle smile. She roused herself from her chair and took his hand, offering him a subdued “thank you.” She left the office without another word. As she’d expected, Smythe was close on her heels. “Would you like to go back to work or to your apartment?” he asked as they rode the elevator to the parking garage. “I don’t see where that’s any of your business,” she pointed out with a disgusted glare. She didn’t bother informing him that she was expecting to be picked up by the same man who’d dropped her off at the attorney’s office. “Everything you do is now my business, Karen.” When she would have continued past him, he reached out and grabbed her arm. “We have to talk.” “Hi!” Smythe clenched his teeth at the annoyingly familiar voice, then turned to face Peter King. “Detective.” “I think your fiancée is trying to get away from you, Smythe,” Peter pointed out with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Smythe released Karen and she took the couple of steps that put her at Peter’s side. They walked over to Peter’s black Honda, and as the detective settled Karen into the passenger seat, Smythe walked to his own car. He slid behind the wheel and was pulling out when Peter stepped in front of the vehicle. Resisting the temptation to let the car continue moving, Smythe stopped. He got out and leaned on the hood of his gleaming Jaguar. “Do you have a death wish, Detective King?” “I told you once before that Karen was under my protection, Smythe. You may think you’ve won, but you’re wrong.” Smythe weighed the words and the threat in them, then smiled 70

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grimly. “If that covers everything, Detective, I have a business that requires my attention. Look after Karen for me,” he added with a laugh and slid into the luxurious car again. Peter barely managed to step out of the way before the Jag roared out of the parking garage. *

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With a theatrical swish of flowing scarlet silk, Kristy curled back into the huge armchair and took a large swallow of the white wine she’d been consuming a little too freely. The bottle was over half empty, and she’d only been home an hour. Long enough to slip into the exotic gown she wore, and admit to herself that she was nothing more than an expensively kept whore. She was already feeling lightheaded and weepy. Maybe it didn’t matter. The funeral a few days ago had been horrible. She’d only met Douglas Wheeler a couple of times, but she had genuinely admired the man. Today the will had been read, and she’d yet to hear what news it contained. Not that it would mean anything to her present state. She finished the wine and rose to retrieve the bottle from the bar. She was just resettled and flicking through channels when she heard the key in the door. She ignored it and went on mindlessly changing channels until the remote control was taken from her hand. “Go home, John,” she said, the words thicker than they should have been. “I don’t want to talk to you.” He smiled, the expression filled with amusement and pleasure. “Good. I don’t want to talk to you, either, darling.” He tossed his jacket aside, and she watched with detached curiosity as he continued to undress. Against her will, she felt the unmistakable thrill of excitement wake within her. When he’d dropped the last piece of his clothing on the couch, he took the wine glass from her hand and pulled her out of her chair. “I don’t want to—” The words were cut off quickly as Smythe covered her mouth with 71

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his and lifted her off her feet. He was obviously surprised when she pulled out of the kiss and tried to squirm away from him. “Leave me alone, John,” she snapped. “Just get the hell out of my apartment and let me be! Find another slut to fuck!” As she’d expected, he ignored the insulting command. “You’re drunk, Kristy,” he murmured, his lips trailed down her neck and his tongue stroked the steady, throbbing pulse near her throat. “And you taste delicious.” “I intend to get a lot drunker, too,” she mumbled. “As soon as you put me down and get out of my apartment.” “I’ll get drunk with you, darling,” he teased. “But, first things first,” he promised softly. He carried her into the bedroom and placed her in the middle of the bed, then settled on top of her. Her objections continued to fall on deaf ears as he caressed and explored her body through the silk and lace of her nightgown. Gradually, the protests ceased altogether and were replaced by the soft sounds of awakened desire. A short while later, she pulled away from him, just long enough to strip off the flowing gown she had on. Smythe laughed with delight when she pushed him onto his back and climbed across his hips. For several moments, she stared down into his eyes, the golden fire in her gaze sweeping over him in clear appreciation. With deliberate slowness, she repositioned herself and slid over him with a low moan of blissful, aroused hunger. *

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She didn’t know how long she’d slept, but the effects of the wine were painfully evident the moment she opened her eyes. Her head started to pound with the force of the headache that reminded her why she never drank. “Shit!” she moaned softly, and rolled onto her back to stare into the soothing darkness. She didn’t move, and the low murmur of John’s 72

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voice gradually drifted in from the living room. She glanced at the clock, saw it was nearly eleven, and wondered who he’d be talking to this late at night. Curiosity piqued, she tossed aside the sheets and walked to the door. The cool breeze from the open patio doors filtered into the bedroom, and she shivered against the caress of air. She was on the verge of taunting John with some inane remark when his laughter silenced her, and instantly sobered her mood. She grabbed the doorframe and stayed hidden in the shadows as he unknowingly broke her heart. “We’ll be going to Greece for a few days, then heading on to Switzerland. From there, I intend to return to the U.S., without my bride.” There was a long pause, then John’s deep, sonorous voice rippled the night air again. “I want her where she won’t be able to hurt anyone. Not me, or Peter King, and most especially not Kristy.” She heard the phone being moved back to its place on the bar, and she ran back to the bed and crawled between the sheets. She was huddled into a shaking ball, trying to make sense of everything, when John rejoined her a few minutes later. “Kristy?” The concern in his tone made the tremors worse, and she didn’t resist when his hand on her shoulder turned her to face him. “What’s wrong, darling?” “Nothing,” she whispered, the roughness in her voice made it a rasp of sound. “Just a bad dream, John.” She hesitated as another shiver went through her, then shrugged. “It’s cold.” His chuckle was shocking in the depth of sensuality it contained, and he slid over her, covering her trembling form with the warmth of his body. Within minutes the shaking that assailed her had no connection to the temperature of the room. *

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Two days later, Peter King gaped openly when Kristy strode into the squad room and looked around. She definitely had the look of a woman on a mission. She spotted him, and he was halfway out of his chair when she reached his desk. “Where’s your captain’s office?” “What?” “C’mon, Peter,” she snapped. “I’m not here on a social call.” “Sorry,” he muttered. “Follow me.” If he hadn’t been so damn intrigued, he’d have given her the retort her manner deserved. “Caleb?” he poked his head into Markham’s office after a brief rap on the door. “Kristy Hawthorne wants to see you.” Markham’s heavy brows rose in surprise. He dropped his pen and leaned back in his chair. Before he could ask the obvious “about what?” the lady in question slipped around Peter and came into the office. “John Smythe has disappeared.” Peter slammed the door and leaned against it as he waited for her to elaborate. “Disappeared?” Markham repeated cautiously. “I don’t understand.” “John is missing, gentlemen,” she shouted. “I know you don’t much care, but I want him found!” She was on the edge of hysteria, and couldn’t keep it leashed, despite her considerable efforts of will. “Peter, make some calls and look into this while Miss Hawthorne and I talk,” Markham directed. When it looked like the young detective wouldn’t move, he added sharply, “That wasn’t a request, Detective!” “You don’t seem surprised, Captain,” Kristy noted when she was seated and they were alone in the office. “I suspect a man like Smythe would have enemies who’d like to see him dead.” The wrenching in the region of her heart was physical agony, and Kristy closed her eyes, forced her mind to accept that Markham had 74

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simply stated the obvious and not been intentionally cruel. “He was supposed to marry Karen this week. The honeymoon trip was booked.” “Could he have gone alone?” She stared at Markham, sensing he was being deliberately obtuse. “Would you go on your honeymoon a week ahead of schedule? Without the bride?” She added the last in pointed sarcasm. “What makes you think he didn’t simply change his mind and walk away?” Markham proposed. “He wouldn’t leave me,” she stated emphatically. “He just left Karen,” Caleb pointed out. Kristy reined in her fury, and rose. “Find him, Captain Markham,” she asked, barely able to push the words past the lump in her throat. “Please?”

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CHAPTER 3

Karen Wheeler stretched lazily in the large bed and a quiet giggle slipped from her lips when she felt a light touch tickling her bare back. She sighed in happiness and turned to snuggle closer to the man beside her. “You seem awfully pleased with yourself tonight,” Peter mumbled as he nuzzled her neck. “I am.” She wrapped her arms around him as he moved in the bed and settled over her. “I can’t believe it’s been six months. The board members have finally agreed to accept me as the C.E.O.,” she informed him with a huge smile. Peter pulled back enough to stare into her soft brown eyes. She’d said something earlier about having news to share, but her surprise had been forgotten temporarily. After a pause, Peter smiled down into her eyes. His expression was indulgent and he bent to place a lingering kiss on her full lips. 76

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“Then it really is over, Karen,” he told her. “Smythe’s been declared dead, and Wheeler Research and Technology is really yours.” “Yes,” she agreed icily, “it should be. But because the initial six month period has passed since my father’s death, and since Smythe and I were never married, I don’t automatically have a right to his shares now. John’s will is in effect and his heir holds his shares. So, someone else still owns his portion of the company,” she reminded the detective. “Kristy’s not going to want to stay, Karen. Make her a reasonable offer and she’ll sell to you,” Peter said. “She held onto the company for Smythe with his power of attorney. Now that he’s been officially declared dead, she won’t want any part of Wheeler. “So, can we talk about something else?” he requested, then grinned. “Better yet, can we not talk at all?” Before she could answer, he caught her mouth in a seductive kiss. Karen shuddered in his arms and he groaned softly when her legs tangled around his and pulled him more snugly to her body. *

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“Have you seen Kris this week?” Peter asked the next morning as he dashed around the small kitchen of his apartment in an effort to consume some kind of breakfast while he prepared to leave for work. When she didn’t answer him immediately, he took a closer look at her, catching the unmistakable irritation his query had provoked. Annoyed, he met her glower and waited for a response. “No,” she replied. “I haven’t seen her since I ran in to her here a couple of weeks back.” “She was…” Peter stopped before the explanation could be completely voiced. They’d been through this already, several times, and he was tired of feeling defensive because Karen remained jealous of Kristy Hawthorne. The other woman had been John Smythe’s lover, not Peter King’s, despite Peter’s curiosity about her. “I’m not going to get into this again, Karen,” he stated firmly. 77

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She shrugged. “So, why are you asking about Kristy?” “I’m worried about her,” he admitted with his customary honesty. “She’s…” He searched for the words, and they refused to be found. “There’s something wrong.” “Such as?” Karen prompted as she sidled up to him and slipped her arms around his waist. She pressed him back against the counter and he grinned down at her. “You’re making it difficult to concentrate,” he murmured. “Good.” Karen smirked approvingly. “You were saying?” Before he had a chance to decide if he wanted to continue talking about another woman, Karen drew his head down to hers and covered his lips with a sensual kiss. *

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“Hi, Sharlene.” Kristy smiled wanly as she came through the polished glass doors that led to her offices. As always, the secretary was early by a few minutes, and was now in the process of pouring herself the first cup of coffee she’d consume throughout the hectic day. Sandpiper Investment was a thriving business and, in recent weeks, things seemed busier than ever, Kristy thought. Where Wheeler Research and Technology was a research conglomerate, Sandpiper had been John Smythe’s personal pet project. He’d been a brilliant market analyst, and his instinct for investments had been uncanny. Shortly after her arrival at Wheeler, John had made Kristy a partner in his new business proposition. His untimely death had left her in control of the new company, as well as handling much of his job at Wheeler. She’d managed both. There had been nothing to distract her from the twentyfour hour a day dedication to her work. With the six month clause of the Wheeler will now behind them and John’s legally dead status, as John’s heir, Kristy literally owned his shares in the corporation. “Can I get you one?” Sharlene asked, pulling Kristy from her daze as she raised her cup to indicate her reference. 78

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“Please,” Kristy answered, her smile becoming warmer as she perched on the edge of Sharlene’s desk and peered at her morning appointment schedule. “Another busy one,” the secretary noted when she handed Kristy a mug and slid into her seat. “You’re supposed to see Peter King for lunch.” “That should prove to be the most pleasant part of the day,” Kristy relented, then added with a thoughtful frown, “I hope!” “Hope?” “I expect he wants to talk to me for Karen,” she said with faint irony. “Now that I own John’s shares of Wheeler, she’s going to want me to sell them.” “Will you?” Kristy shrugged and straightened from her perch on the desk. “I haven’t decided yet.” *

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Kristy gritted her teeth in fury as she balanced her briefcase and a large stack of mail while she fumbled with the key to her apartment. She finally got the door opened and closed behind her, then she dumped everything into an armchair. She ran her hands through her hair as she kicked off her shoes and strolled toward the patio doors. The city was lit up like a Christmas tree, and she felt the familiar sense of loneliness easing into her mood. The summer had been busy, as had the early autumn. Winter was settling in, slowly, and the holidays were now only a month away. She spun around and went for the bar, conscious in some dark part of her mind that she was relying too heavily on the white wine in an effort to sleep at night. Still, it was preferable to the relentless ache of John’s absence, she convinced herself. She poured a glass of the sparkling liquid and glanced at the case she’d tossed aside a few minutes ago. She knew she had at least three hours of work to do, but 79

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somehow it seemed dramatically less important now than it had been earlier in the evening.. She downed the contents of her glass and pulled herself together. If she kept thinking like this she’d lose her new company long before it ever became the lucrative business she knew it could be. Sandpiper Investment was the result of John Smythe’s brilliant business mind and her contacts. If he’d been there to work with her, the company would be even more successful. As always, the memory of John created a dull, throbbing pain inside her and she shook her head in unconscious denial. She was about to return to the bar for a refill when she spotted the closed bedroom door. The door hadn’t been closed when she’d left this morning. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and for several moments fear held her rooted to the spot. She thought about calling Peter King, then dismissed the idea as absurd. She’d remained close to the young cop, despite his involvement with Karen Wheeler. She also knew the other woman would be furious if Kristy called and had him running to her aid over some imagined threat. She took a deep breath and walked to the bedroom door. As she neared the white panel of wood, she told herself repeatedly that she had probably shut the door without notice as she’d left this morning. Her hand trembled when she twisted the knob and pushed the door inward. The roar in her ears became deafening, and for a single moment time hung suspended, then faded to black. *

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“Kristy?” The genuine concern in John’s voice finally pierced the cloud of darkness and she felt a sob rise in her throat as she resisted the return to consciousness. If she opened her eyes, he’d be gone and she’d be forced to admit that she’d dreamed the vision that had greeted her in her bedroom. She wanted to believe she’d opened the door to find John 80

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waiting in her bed. “Darling, wake up,” he whispered. “J-J-John?” His low laugh was warm, indulgent. “Yes, darling, it’s me.” Kristy opened her eyes and stared into the familiar, beloved face. Blue eyes danced with delight and she flung herself into his arms with a sob. John held her tighter and the tears poured forth for several minutes before she eased away just enough to look at him again. “How?” She fought down the surge of panic and memory, and concentrated on the handsome man who held her so tenderly. His eyes were the morning sky after cleansing rains, and in John Smythe she saw the sun that would light her world and make her whole again. “Later,” he whispered. “John?” Smythe covered her lips with a sensual kiss as he leaned her back onto the softness of the bed. She twisted beneath him and felt a surge of hungry passion when her legs parted and her hips rose to push against his in silent demand. “You’ve been drinking too much,” he murmured several minutes later as he stared deeply into her watery gaze. “I’ve missed you so much, John.” Tears continued to stream unnoticed from her. Before he could answer she pulled him into another fierce kiss. “One of us is overdressed, darling,” he observed when he drew back a short while later. Kristy laughed and he began to slowly, selectively remove her clothes. When she was naked on the bed he let his look wander and drink in the beautiful vision that had haunted his nights in self-imposed exile. His fingers traced the curve of one shapely calf, then laced around the slender ankle. He held her right foot in his left hand and 81

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smiled down at her as he brushed a finger over the gold chain he’d given her almost a year ago. “You still haven’t taken this off?” It wasn’t quite a question, but she smiled and shook her head. Smythe laughed and kissed her ankle before he began trailing tantalizing caresses up the inside of her leg. When his lips lingered in teasing kisses over the inside of her thighs her breaths quickened with rising excitement. Seconds later, her hands clutched his neck and her entire body spasmed. John lifted her legs to drape them over his shoulders, then held her hips as his probing tongue tumbled her into ecstasy. When she could breathe normally again, she dared to believe he was real. She relaxed against him, let her body awaken fully to the feel of him as her fingers slid into the thick tangle of his hair and she eased away enough to really look at him. His eyes were filled with so much unaffected joy that her heart sang inside her. She leaned eagerly into his kiss and trembled in his arms as the long-suppressed yearning for him woke and began to burn. He started to ease away once, and she pulled his lips back to hers, not ready to deprive herself of the taste and feel of him. His arms loosened and his hands began to move, very slowly, tracing the curves of her body, rediscovering with the possessive, hungry desire of a man claiming what was his. When his wandering exploration ended with his hands buried in her hair, he finally broke their kisses and held her face between his hands. The smoldering heat that clouded his smoky blue eyes found itself twinned in the dreamy-eyed topaz of Kristy’s gaze. “What are you thinking about, John?” she managed to speak after two aborted attempts, and laughed at the shaky gasp of her voice. “Now I would have thought that was obvious,” he drawled, a soft, honeyed purr of sensuality. He was inordinately pleased when her 82

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entire body quivered against him. He closed his eyes and held her tighter, content for the moment to know she was with him. The stroke of her hands across his back was both relaxing and arousing. The soft sigh of pleasure that escaped her as she began to track kisses down the side of his neck created a shudder that fanned out to encompass every part of him. He eventually eased her head back and bent to cover her mouth with his again. Her lips parted and he stroked the recesses of her mouth with his tongue, deepened the caress further when she returned the kiss with intense hunger. Smythe pulled her to him, held her tightly. “John?” It was a breathy gasp as his lips left hers and began to work down the curve of her neck. He didn’t answer. “We need to talk—” He lifted his head from her neck and stared down at her, drinking in her features. Her breathing strained, and her jewel-like gaze was dazzling, and wanting. She was more beautiful now than she’d been the first time he’d touched her; and he wanted her with more honest need than he’d felt for any woman in many years. “Later,” He whispered. “When I don’t need you quite as badly as I do right now, darling.” He laughed softly at the words, and the honest truth in them. She smiled at him. “I’ve thought about this more times than I could count, John.” “I hope I don’t disappoint you, then,” he said with a laugh. His amusement stopped abruptly, cut short on a gasp of pure, sensory pleasure as she ran her hands over his chest and downward. Her touch was just as he remembered it, gentle, loving, and highly provocative. The smooth brush of her fingers created spasms of delight inside him and he gathered her into his arms. Naked skin met naked skin and Kristy arched in his embrace, her 83

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head fell back and John’s lips sought the hyper-sensitive hollow at the base of her throat. She moaned as his tongue began to play over the smooth skin, tantalizing and making her squirm against him. His hands moved to her hips, then around to her buttocks, cupping them as he pulled her into more intimate contact with him. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip when he eased away just enough to lift one breast and guide the firm, responsive tip into his mouth. She sighed when he began to suckle one nipple while his fingers traced circles around the other. Her hands tangled in the John’s hair and she dragged his mouth from her breasts and back to her eager lips. His mouth closed over hers, relentless and demanding. She returned his lust with her own, her hands now wandering freely over his body. He shook in her arms as her touch grew bolder. John sighed, then groaned in exquisite agony as she pushed him onto his back and began to explore with her mouth. Her tongue licked at his nipples repeatedly as her fingers closed around his arousal, stroking feathery caresses over his heated flesh. He hauled her across his hips and rolled, felt her entire body curl to meet him as he settled between her thighs. Kristy trembled in his arms and, for a moment, he felt unwelcome tension awaken. Despite the depth of passion and love that burned between them, he knew she was still confused by all she didn’t yet know. He kissed her again, whispered her name, relaxed against her. Her arms slipped around his waist and she tangled her legs with his. “Make me forget, John,” she murmured thickly, her voice muffled against his shoulder. Smythe watched the myriad emotions play over her face, and his smile deepened when he saw the dreamy happiness come back into the vivid warm gold of her gaze. He let himself relax for a moment, revel in the devotion and love he felt as he stared at her. 84

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“I do love you,” he whispered. She closed her eyes and pushed her hips into his in wordless entreaty. Another moan of pure, undiluted fulfillment fell from her lips as John slid into her at last. For several moments he remained still, savored the long-denied union while measuring her response, and the trust her acceptance affirmed. When she whispered his name again and stirred beneath him, he closed his eyes and let his body answer the ache that had ignited fire in his veins. The stroke of his hips was slow and gentle, and she quickly found the familiar rhythm of his lovemaking. She focused intently on the sensations he was creating within her, the near magical happiness and completion that grew with each new movement of their bodies. His mouth was at her neck again, tongue caressing the hollow there. She felt the tiny jolts of liquid flames fan outward, pool between her thighs as he moved inside her. The starburst of rapture took her by surprise, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him clenched to her quaking body. John’s voice was soft in her ear, murmuring soothing nonsense as she rode out the wave of euphoria and caught her breath. She moaned, urged him with her movements and clung as he gave himself fully to his own lust. The second time the thrill of ecstasy swept her away, John was with her, shuddering as his warmth spilled into her. Kristy lay spent beneath him as her breaths slowly evened and she smiled up at him when he finally lifted his head from her shoulder. Sweat created a sheen on his skin and she brushed a damp curl off his forehead, let her fingers trail the curve of his cheek and the soft fullness of his bottom lip. With the backs of her fingers she smoothed the contours of his face, then drew him down to her kiss. The caress was filled with love; gentle, lingering, sated. The warmth that filled her heart and body was something she never wanted to be without again. John’s lips moved on hers, teased, nipped, and 85

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slowly roused. His tongue tasted hers, sucked it deeply into his own mouth, and she felt him stirring again… *

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“Are you ever going to explain all this to me?” Kristy asked much later in the night. John laughed. “What about our business?” “I’m sure we can discuss business in the morning, Kristy,” he grinned. “I think we have a lot more than business to clear up in the morning, John,” she murmured happily. John’s only reply was a murmur of agreement as he shifted onto his back and pulled her close. She draped one leg across his thighs and looped an arm over his waist. She idly traced circles on his chest, then rested her hand over his heart. John’s fingers toyed with the long strands of her hair as he tugged the rumpled sheets up around them. He kissed her forehead minutes later, listening to the soft, even cadence of her breathing as she slept in his arms. He settled deeper in the bed and let comfortable sleep claim him for the first time in many, many weeks. When he woke several hours later, it was to find Kristy on her knees between his legs. She’d lit several candle-fuelled lamps and the soft golden glow from them bathed the room in subdued luminescence. Her dark hair was burnished copper and her skin smooth, flawless ivory. She smiled as her hands ran over his hips, played over the contoured hollows, then she bent over him. The sight made him groan quietly, and his eyes closed as her mouth enveloped him. She left no part of him untouched and he encouraged her with words and moans of pure pleasure, guided her with his hands, and eventually settled her astride his hips. She leaned forward, hands grasping the headboard of the bed as she found the rhythm that would serve their hunger for each 86

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other. John’s hands closed on her breasts, slid down to encircle her waist, and held her tightly to him as he pushed his hips upward against her. The storm abated quickly, and left them limp in each other’s arms. “I don’t think I want this night to end,” she whispered as she slid off him. John pulled her back against his chest, spooned their bodies together, and lifted her hair onto the pillow over their heads. The spill of ebony gleamed against the white linen, and he kissed her shoulder as he hugged her to him. “John?” “Mmmmm?” “Where have you been?” She tried, and almost succeeded in keeping the question free of accusation. He sighed heavily and nodded, then released her so she could face him. “The night I disappeared, I was put in protective custody. It was voluntary, but I couldn’t tell you, obviously.” “Why?” “Karen Wheeler was responsible for her father’s accident. She was also behind the attempt on Peter King’s life. It was all designed to frame me. Douglas suspected, and we’d been conducting our own investigation for months. When I suggested marrying her it was to get her out of the way. I had enough evidence to see that she was placed in a psychiatric institution rather than a prison, but King kept interfering. I had everything in place, until he stepped in.” “What will happen to her now?” “I don’t know,” he stated quietly. “I don’t much care.” “Peter’s been living with her,” Kristy told him. “Good,” he said, a distinct iciness in his eyes and tone. “I did wonder if I’d have to kill him when I came back.” “What?” Her laughter was a choked spurt of shock and worry. “If I’d found him here with you, I might very well be in the cell next to Karen tonight,” he admitted with a wry smile. 87

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“John,” she said earnestly, “Peter King is my friend, but he has never shared my bed, I promise you.” “Get some sleep, Kristy,” he smiled sweetly. “We’ll talk more about this in the morning.” *

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“You expect me to believe this?” Peter King sputtered in total disbelief. “It is the truth, Peter,” Markham assured the younger man. “It’s been six months in the works. All the evidence is conclusive.” The shock in King’s brown eyes was almost painful to witness. “Does Kris know about all this?” Markham shrugged. “My guess is Smythe’s filling her in on the details about now. He was allowed to return to the city this morning.” “What about Karen?” “She’s being booked now,” Markham answered, watching the flare of anger rise in King’s dark eyes, then flicker out like a doused fire. “I don’t believe it,” King repeated. “Take a few days off, Peter,” Markham decided. “Jennifer wants you to have dinner with her tonight while I get the paperwork done on this one.” “She knows?” Markham nodded. Jennifer was the closest thing to a mother Peter King had ever had. If anyone could help him through his feelings about the Wheeler fiasco, it was Jennifer. “Thanks, Caleb,” Peter said, his voice devoid of any emotion outside of his sincere disbelief. The pain would come later, and he’d deal with that, too. For now, there was some comfort to be had in the familiar warmth of the Markham home. He was too grateful to be argumentative. He’d see Kristy Hawthorne in the morning. *

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“Can I come in?” Peter asked. Kristy nodded and opened the door to her apartment. “Where is he?” “Gone out for a paper,” she said with a smile. “Would you like some coffee?” Peter nodded and followed her into the kitchen. When she’d poured two cups and they were seated at the small table in the middle of the room, she reached across and touched his hand. “I’m sorry, Peter,” she said softly. “I know how much you cared about Karen.” “Smythe knew all along, didn’t he?” She nodded. “He was trying to protect a lot of people, and keep Douglas Wheeler’s company free of the scandal that would have bankrupted it.” “Mirage.” She recalled the conversation to which he was making cryptic reference, and shrugged. “Right concept, wrong desert,” she noted. “You said he was the oasis in your heart, and I said he was a mirage. What does that make me? Idiot of the year?” “It makes you as human as the next man, Detective,” Smythe observed as he came into the kitchen, a newspaper folded neatly under his arm. Neither of them had heard him come into the apartment, but he’d clearly heard their exchange. “There was a time when Karen Wheeler had me convinced she adored her father. She was a master at deception, but the doctors assure me that’s quite a common thing in people who are as disturbed as she is.” “I guess I owe you an apology, Smythe,” Peter relented with illgrace. John shook his head. “Please, no, Detective. I prefer to keep our relationship as far from friendly as possible.” 89

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“John!” Kristy snapped, exasperated. King actually laughed, and she turned to glare at him, then at Smythe. It wasn’t until she noticed the tiniest hint of a twitch at the corner of John’s mouth that she realized he was trying very hard not to smile. “What’s going to happen to Wheeler Research and Technology now?” Peter asked. “A corporate merger with Sandpiper Investment,” Smythe replied with a slight smile. “That’s not the only merger I’m planning for the future, Detective. I trust we understand each other?” “Perfectly.” Peter nodded politely and rose. “Good luck, Kristy. I have a feeling you’ll need it.” “Was that really necessary, John?” Kristy asked when she’d shown Peter to the door and returned to the kitchen. “Get dressed, darling,” he smiled. “We’re due in the Wheeler board room in less than an hour.” She looked at him for a moment, torn between frustration and adoration. In the end, she let happiness dominate her mood and put the past lonely months behind her. John had hired her to do a job what felt like a lifetime ago, and whatever else may have changed over the last year, his focus remained fully intact. He’d succeeded in owning Wheeler Research and Technology. Now they’d tackle his next goal, together, as partners, lovers, and friends. No more mirages disguised as happiness. She had finally found a reality that wouldn’t disappear in the bright face of a new day. Humming softly, Kristy went to get ready for the first of John’s proposed mergers…

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DENYSE M. BRIDGER Denyse is a native of Atlantic Canada, born in the country’s Easternmost province, Newfoundland, and raised in Nova Scotia. A lifelong dreamer, she began writing at an early age and can’t recall a time when she wasn’t creating in some artistic form. “My first published story was, oddly enough, a media based tale written for the TV series Miami Vice, first published in 1986. Up until that time I had never heard of fanzines and fandom. It’s proven to be an immensely valuable training ground for professional writing in that it teaches discipline and attention to detail. There’s no tougher critic than a fan who knows their show or movie down to the tiniest nuance, and they’re not shy about telling you when you’ve missed the mark!” An active interest in the American West has been a lifetime obsession, too. Cowboys have been a love-affair that began at the tender age of three, and eventually expanded to encompass an equally timeless passion for pirates, Greek Gods, and Ancient Egypt. The other side of the Old West intrigue is an affinity for Victorian England, particularly the 1885-1895 part of the century. The American Civil War has also been a source of avid interest. “How can anyone not be moved by the tragedy that defines that conflict? There are endless stories of courage and honor, and each man and woman who lived through America’s greatest turmoil was left scarred in some way. Those who rose above their losses and went on with the stoicism and utter bravery of eternal legends really have to inspire and humble anyone who reads about them.”

At this point in her career, Denyse has had published in the vicinity of 400 stories and novellas, in almost any genre you can name. “The only thing I haven’t tried yet is hard-core science fiction, and horror. Since I don’t consider vampires as I write them to be the fodder of horror, I classify those stories as Dark Fantasy.” Many of her vampire stories have appeared in Margaret L. Carter’s anthology, The Vampire’s Crypt, and Night To Dawn, published and edited by Dawn Callahan. Her poetry has been published internationally. Denyse has also been the recipient of numerous awards, most notably the Fan Quality Award, which is given annually for excellence in fan fictions based on film and television. As of May 2004, there are four awards in her collection, and no less than a dozen nominations to her credit. What’s next on the agenda? “I hope many more stories for AQP. A home for my ‘labor of love’ Greek fantasy novel. And more time to get all the ideas in my head down onto the written page…” *

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Don’t miss Winner Take All, by Denyse M. Bridger, available from Amber Quill Press, LLC

When Dylan Coulter rides into Sparkling Springs, he quickly discovers the woman who runs the saloon there is worth sticking around for. Things get ugly fast when Dylan is accused of killing the only son of the richest rancher in the area. Unwilling to leave her behind, Dylan takes Maggie with him as he tries to dodge bounty hunters and a determined Pinkerton agent who just happens to be Maggie's old love…

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