At Any Price

He could see Katie in her nightgown, feel the guilt for not being able to look away. But he still couldn’t. After all this time, he would’ve given his right arm to make love to her right there on her bed.

Now, after all these years, he was going to be sleeping in her house again. The thought of spending the night with her was enough to make him sweat. It had been a while since he’d been with a woman, and he was hungry. Had he been back in New York, there would have been a number of women he could have called, any of whom would have been more than happy to share his bed. But he knew he was kidding himself. Even if he was back in the city, he wouldn’t call those women. There was only one woman he wanted to make love to tonight.

And her name was Katie Devonworth.

Dear Reader,

We’re so glad you’ve chosen Silhouette Desire because we have a lot of wonderful—and sexy!—stories for you. The month starts to heat up with The Boss Man’s Fortune by Kathryn Jensen. This fabulous boss/secretary novel is part of our ongoing continuity, DYNASTIES: THE DANFORTHS, and also reintroduces characters from another well-known family: The Fortunes. Things continue to simmer with Peggy Moreland’s The Last Good Man in Texas, a fabulous continuation of her series THE TANNERS OF TEXAS.

More steamy stuff is heading your way with Shut Up And Kiss Me by Sara Orwig, as she starts off a new series, STALLION PASS: TEXAS KNIGHTS. (Watch for the series to continue next month in Silhouette Intimate Moments.) The always-compelling Laura Wright is back with a hot-blooded Native American hero in Redwolf’s Woman. Storm of Seduction by Cindy Gerard will surely fire up your hormones with an alpha male hero out of your wildest fantasies. And Margaret Allison makes her Silhouette Desire debut with At Any Price, a book about sweet revenge that is almost too hot to handle!

And, as summer approaches, we’ll have more scorching love stories for you—guaranteed to satisfy your every Silhouette Desire!

Happy reading,

Melissa Jeglinski

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

At Any Price

Margaret Allison

MARGARET ALLISON

was raised in the suburbs of Detroit, Michigan, and received a B.A. in political science from the University of Michigan. A former marketing executive, she has also worked as a model and actress. She is the author of several novels, and At Any Price marks her return to the world of romance after taking some time off to care for her young children. Margaret currently divides her time between her computer, the washing machine and the grocery store. She loves to hear from readers. Please write to her c/o Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.

For my mom, Barbara Robinson, with thanks and love.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

One

Katie sat in the sleek waiting room of Jack Reilly’s office. He owned the whole building, a glass high-rise smack in the middle of Manhattan.

She knew Jack was a big deal now; heck, everyone in Newport Falls knew he was a self-made multimillionaire. But seeing it was a different story.

It had taken every ounce of her courage to set foot inside Reilly Investments. She kept reminding herself that this was Jack, her childhood friend, not Donald Trump. She shouldn’t be intimidated. After all, she had nursed Jack through colds, chicken pox and fights with his father.

But still, the lump that was lodged in her throat would not go away. And the little voice inside her that kept telling her to run, the one that kept telling her what a mistake it was to come here, would not shut up.

She wondered if she would recognize the man described in the papers as the confident, brash millionaire. Sure, Jack had always been a little cocky, but she knew better. She could see right through the artificial confidence to the insecure boy underneath. He had been painfully aware of where he had come from and who he was. His cockiness was just covering up the insecurity of being the poorest kid in school.

She smoothed her hair, certain she looked a mess. It was only noon, yet her day had begun eight hours earlier. She had taken care of some business at the paper before borrowing Marcella’s car for the drive into the city. She felt bad about putting the extra miles on her friend’s already worn car, but she had little choice. Not without the funds to repair her broken-down car or afford the train or plane fare. Since her divorce, money was tight. And the newspaper, her family’s business for generations, had been hemorrhaging money. She had stopped paying herself a salary months ago.

Katie checked her watch again. Nearly one-thirty. Their lunch appointment had been for twelve forty-five.

Perhaps there had been a mix-up, perhaps Jack didn’t even know he was meeting with her today. After all, she had not spoken with him directly. All their communication had been through his assistant. Katie hadn’t told Jack’s assistant that she wanted to ask the big-time investor for a loan for her failing newspaper. She hadn’t told her that Jack Reilly was more than an old friend. Much more.

In fact, she had loved Jack from the moment she first set eyes on him. She had been convinced they were meant for each other, sure that the friendship they had nurtured since kindergarten was destined for passion. But she was wrong. And to this day, she had only admitted her love for Jack to one other person: Jack himself.

She blushed as she remembered that day, fourteen years before. In senior year of high school she and Jack had been part of a group of three friends. Jack Reilly, Matt O’Malley and Katie Devonworth. Inseparable in school and out, they were known throughout Newport Falls as earth, wind and fire. Katie, the daughter of the owner and publisher of the town’s newspaper, was the earth: solid, steady, with a firm sense of purpose. Matt, the son of a teacher, was the wind: constantly changing his mind about who he was and what he wanted to be. Jack, the son of an unemployed alcoholic, was fire: full of angst and determination.

But one day she and Jack had found themselves alone, without Matt. They had arrived at the creek before dawn, had sat side by side, talking in their usual manner, about everything and nothing at all.

She remembered it had been an unusually warm and beautiful late-April day. Snow could still be seen on the mountains that framed Newport Falls. But in the valley, where they had been fishing, the sky was clear and the sun was bright. She had mentioned that she was getting warm and Jack had looked at her, his blue eyes sparking mischief.

He set down his pole and jumped up, pulling off his shirt. He looked at the creek, then back to her again. “You’re right. A swim might be nice.”

“Not that warm,” she said. “The creek is still freezing.”

“Come on. A little swim will do you good.” He took a step toward her, his face lit in a devilish grin. Back then, Jack had the kind of looks sexy movie star heroes were made of: chiseled features, piercing blue eyes and jet-black hair. As she looked at him, she could feel her resolve melt. She had always had a hard time saying no to him. But, she reminded herself, this was not going to be one of those times.

“No thanks,” she said. She was willing to suffer to be alone with Jack, but she was fairly certain a dip in freezing cold water would add little to their romance.

“The secret,” he said, taking another step toward her, “is to jump in fast. Real fast.”

She had no doubt that Jack had every intention of dropping her right into the water. Jack cared little for polite gestures. Still, he had every girl in town clamoring to be near him, for although he was a little rough and wild, he was also the most intelligent and charming boy around.

“Jack Reilly!” she said, holding her fishing pole in front of her like a sword. “Don’t even think about it! I’ll…I’ll poke you, I will!”

He plucked the pole out of her hand and tossed it on the ground. “With what?”

She turned and ran away from the stream as fast as she could, hurdling a pile of rocks and hitting the path without losing stride. She was gaining her lead when her foot hit a stump, sending her flying over the path and into a patch of wild strawberries. Jack bounded after her, landing on his feet. He looked at her berry-splattered T-shirt. “You’re hurt,” he said, mistaking the red juice for blood. His tan, handsome face turned a pale white.

But as he leaned in to find the source of the “blood,” she couldn’t withhold her laughter any longer. She pushed him as hard as she could, sending him back on his rear. With a splat he landed smack in the berries. Then she took off running again.

But she wasn’t fast enough. He grabbed her from behind. His berry-stained arms wrapped around her like two bands of steel and picked her up, but instead of carrying her off into the sunset, he began walking back toward the stream. “Let’s get you cleaned up, Devonworth,” he said.

“I swear, Jack,” she said, trying to loosen his grip on her. “If you so much as get my little toe damp, I’ll…”

“You’ll what?”

They were eye-to-eye. The world once again faded away. It was just she and Jack, together. “I’ll, well, I’ll…”

“Idle threats,” he said, his mouth so close she could feel his breath. He paused, then leaned forward as if he was about to kiss her. She closed her eyes, waiting. Maybe not so much as waiting, but willing. Kiss me, she thought. Kiss me, Jack Reilly.

But her fantasy was dashed with the rush of icy water. “Jack!” she yelled as her rear end hit the creek. When he yanked her back up, she pulled him toward her and stuck out her knee, tripping him and sending him into the cold stream.

“There’s no escape,” he said, pulling himself out of the water. As Katie reached the beach, Jack tackled her. He straddled her on the sand, holding her arms above her head. “Give it up, Devonworth.”

Suddenly, Jack paused. He leaned over her, his eyes full of fire as he gazed at her as if for the first time. He stared at the wet T-shirt that clung to her like a second skin, revealing the shape of her breasts. “Katie,” he said hoarsely.

She did what she’d been wanting to do for years: she kissed him. He responded hungrily, his tongue exploring her mouth as his hands slipped under her shirt. She could feel his raw energy press against her as his fingers gently touched her erect nipples. Although she was a virgin, she was not frightened. She wanted Jack. She needed to feel him inside her, making love to her. She was ready. Her hands clutched the top of his jeans as she fumbled for the snap.

Then, as fast as their passion flared, it banked. Jack pulled away and sat up. “What are we doing?” he asked, running his hand through his thick hair.

She was silent for a minute. Then she said, “I love you, Jack. I always have.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood up and shoved his hands in the pockets of his wet jeans. Without saying a word, he walked away.

Katie heard a noise and turned. Matt was standing behind her, his arms crossed. She looked away, ashamed that he had witnessed such a personal humiliation.

“It’s okay,” Matt said. “I know you love him. I’ve known for a long time. Everyone has. Everyone except Jack.”

Katie could still remember the terrible feeling that engulfed her. Everyone in Newport Falls knew. Knew that she suffered a case of unrequited love.

Matt held out his hand. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll walk you home.” She accepted his hand and he pulled her to her feet. He said, “You should know that he doesn’t love you. I mean, he cares about you, but not like that. He never will.”

And Matt was right. Because as soon as Jack was able, he left Newport Falls.

Katie went on to college locally, and when her father died, she took over his struggling newspaper. Then she did the only sensible thing left to do: she married Matt.

“Ms. Devonworth?”

Katie snapped back to reality to see a beautiful blond woman standing in front of her. “Mr. Reilly will see you now,” the woman said.

Katie felt a surge of jealousy as she wondered if the blonde was dating Jack. But so what if she was? Jack was nothing to her anymore. Nothing.

Still, her heart was pounding so loudly she was certain the woman could hear.

She walked through the open doors and into a set from Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. Jack’s personal office was every bit as impressive as the building. Huge, with floor-to-ceiling windows, it had a sitting area with a couch and chairs, and a meeting area with a large conference table. The centerpiece of the office, however, was the elaborate, hand-carved desk that sat like a throne in front of a spectacular view of Central Park.

Jack sat at his desk, his back to her. He was facing the window, one hand behind his head as he spoke on the phone.

Being within arm’s reach of him after all this time was enough to take her breath away. But apparently she had little, if any, effect on him. He appeared unaware that she was standing there, and continued talking on the phone as if she was invisible.

She stood for a few minutes, twitching her fingers nervously. Why had the secretary told her to come in if he wasn’t ready? And how dare he treat her as if she was some sort of nobody! She was Katie Devonworth. She had beaten him in almost every game of chess they had ever played. She knew that he was the one who had broken Mrs. Watkins’s window. She knew that he had cried when his father had been sent to jail. She knew—

Jack spun around to face her. He smiled as he hung up the phone. He had changed little in the past nine years. His eyes may have had a few more wrinkles and his hair a few streaks of gray, but the effect was every bit as devastating as it had always been. He was still the most handsome man Katie had ever laid eyes on.

“Katie,” he said, walking around the desk to greet her. He held out his hand. “It’s nice to see you.”

She felt a charge as he touched her. The physical connection, no matter how innocent, was enough to make her heart skip a beat. “And you,” she managed to say, pulling her hand away.

“I was surprised to hear from you.” His tone was chatty, as if seeing her again was the most natural thing in the world.

“Yes, well,” she said, trying to match his attitude, “I was going to be in New York, anyway, so I thought, why not call Jack and see if he can meet for lunch?”

“I’m glad you did.” He paused for a moment, studying her. “It’s been a long time.”

She shifted her gaze. What was it about him that made her act like a nervous schoolgirl?

He nodded toward the door as he grabbed his coat. “Let’s go.”

They walked through the lobby, pausing to retrieve her coat before heading toward the elevators. “It’s all so impressive,” she said, stumbling to make conversation as he helped her on with her coat.

“Thanks,” he said. He pressed the button for the elevators, and they waited in silence while Katie racked her brain for something to say. Everything she came up with she rejected out of hand. Too obvious. Too stupid. Too boring.

When the elevator arrived, it was empty. They stepped inside, both of them keeping their eyes focused on the doors as they shut.

This was a mistake, said the voice in her head. I can’t even make small talk with him anymore. How can I ask him for a million dollars?

“So,” he said finally, “what business brings you to town?”

“Meetings with advertisers,” she said, the lie just popping out of her mouth. The doors opened and several people came inside. All nodded and said hello to Jack.

“How is the paper doing?” he asked.

“Okay,” she said, staring straight ahead. It wasn’t exactly a lie. The reporting had never been stronger. It was the circulation that was suffering.

The elevator stopped at another floor and several more people crowded in, pushing her and Jack to the back. They were so close, their arms touching, she could smell his musky scent. She closed her eyes. For a moment she was back at the creek and Jack was on top of her, his hand caressing her breast. She could feel his tongue inside her mouth….

“Here we are,” Jack said as the door opened. He put his hand on her back as he steered her out of the elevator. “I’m not sure what you had planned, but I’m afraid I don’t have much time. There’s a little Italian restaurant down the street, if that’s all right with you.”

Katie agreed. She was glad she didn’t have the responsibility of picking a restaurant in a city she knew little about. They walked down the street without talking. Jack led her to a small gray building with red shutters. “This is it,” he said.

They walked in and were greeted effusively by the manager, who seemed to know Jack very well. He showed them to a cozy booth in the corner. As they perused the menu, Jack said, “The chicken piccata is very good.”

But Katie preferred more basic food. “How’s the spaghetti and meatballs?”

“Some of the best in the city,” he said. “That’s what I’m getting.”

“Me, too,” she said, setting down her menu. As the waiter approached, Katie wondered if conversation with her old friend was doomed to be shallow and superficial. Perhaps they no longer had anything in common but their choice of entrée.

“So,” Jack said, after they had ordered, “how is everything in Newport Falls?”

“Fine,” she said.

“I was so sorry to hear about your mom, Katie. She was a great person.”

She wasn’t expecting him to mention her mother, who had died nearly ten years ago. She had adored both Jack and Matt, and had long predicted Katie would marry one of them. When she found out she had a fatal illness, she encouraged Katie to marry quickly, so that she could attend her wedding. It was one of the main reasons Katie had agreed to marry Matt.

Fortunately, her mother had not been there to witness the demise of the marriage she had inspired. But Katie and her mother had been extremely close, and her death had left a hole in Katie’s heart that would never heal. “Thank you for the flowers you sent.”

“Of course,” he said. He glanced away. At first she had been devastated when Jack didn’t call after her mother died. But slowly the pain had given way to curiosity. Matt had a theory for Jack’s disappearance from their lives. Jack had recreated himself. He didn’t want anyone around who remembered him for who he was and how he had grown up.

The waitress arrived with their lunch and placed it in front of them. Plates laden with spaghetti and meatballs and the most delicious-looking garlic bread Katie had ever seen.

She picked up her fork, wondering how she was going to eat without splashing marinara sauce all over herself.

But it hadn’t seemed to bother Jack. He was swirling his spaghetti on his fork and chomping away.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Do you want something else?”

“No,” she said. She stabbed her fork into the mountain of spaghetti and popped it in her mouth. One of the noodles fell out and, with a rather loud noise, she slurped it back in.

Jack was grinning. “No one eats like you, Devonworth.”

She doubted the women Jack dated ate much of anything. Those pictured with him in the newspapers and magazines all looked willow thin and perfectly coiffed. Well, thought Katie. I’m a real woman and proud of it. She broke her garlic bread in half and took a big bite.

“Do you like it?” Jack asked, pointing toward her plate.

She nodded.

“There’s a lot of great restaurants in the city, but there’s something about this place. It kind of reminds me of Macaroni’s back home.”

“It’s good,” she said, her mouth only half-full.

Jack grinned again.

She finished chewing and said, “But Macaroni’s isn’t there anymore. They went out of business a couple of years ago.” Macaroni’s wasn’t the only business to fall victim to Newport Falls’ economy. Jack wouldn’t recognize the once-vibrant Main Street. Many of the stores that had been there since Katie could remember were gone or leaving.

“Oh?” Jack said. “That’s hard to believe. They’d been there forever, hadn’t they?”

“It sure seemed that way,” Katie said.

Neither said anything for a while, focusing on their lunch. But Katie couldn’t relax. She knew she had to ask Jack for money. And she had to do it soon.

Finally Jack said, “Do you ever hear from Matt?”

So Jack knew about her divorce. It didn’t surprise her. The Newport Falls grapevine ran far beyond the borders of the city.

“Every now and then,” she said. “I spoke to him last week. He thinks he might come home soon.”

“Come home?”

“He lives in the Bahamas.” A marriage devoid of passion had not been what Matt had bargained for. She hadn’t loved him, truly loved him, and he’d sensed that. She blamed herself for his philandering, blamed herself when he left town with a secretary from the bank. Their divorce had been fairly amicable. There were no property or children to dispute. They simply left the marriage with whatever they brought into it. She got the newspaper and her parents’ house. He got his freedom.

Jack glanced away. “I meant, well, you said he was coming home. Does that mean returning to you?”

Katie shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She didn’t want to discuss this with Jack. Not now. Not ever. “No,” she said. “It means he’s returning to Newport Falls. We’ve been divorced for almost three years now.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, his eyes meeting hers.

“Thanks. But I’m not here to discuss the failure of my marriage or my personal life.” Immediately, Katie regretted her words and the tone of her voice. She didn’t mean to sound so nasty. Jack had been friends with both of them. She had expected him to mention the divorce. But her feelings toward Jack and her reactions to him had never been rational.

He leaned back in the booth and crossed his arms. She could see the muscles in his jaw tighten. “All right, Devonworth,” he said. “Or should I call you O’Malley?” he asked, referring to Matt’s last name.

“I kept my last name. But you can call me Katie.” He and Matt had always referred to each other, and her, by their last names. But they were kids then. Things had changed.

“Okay, Katie,” he said. “Why are you here?” He wiped his mouth and put down his napkin.

She shifted her gaze. “I, uh, well, I have wondered about you. Wondered how you were doing, what you were up to…” She stumbled.

“Really?” Jack said. “You haven’t asked me one question about what I’ve been doing. And you’re doing that thing with your hair, twirling it like you do whenever you’ve got something on your mind.”

Out of the corner of her eye she glanced at her finger. She had twisted her hair around it like a wet noodle.

Jack said, “I’m getting the impression this is more than just a personal visit.”

“Okay.” She lowered her hand and leaned forward. “My newspaper, The Falls—”

“I know the name of your newspaper.”

“We’re in trouble. We need cash, badly.”

“I see.” His blue eyes darkened. She thought he looked angry, and she guessed it was because she had not told him the truth about why she wanted to see him. “And you want me to help.” It was not a question, but a statement.