Winter will be over soon and we have new books guaranteed to put a spring in your step! Lose yourself in an absorbing read from Harlequin Presents….

Travel to sophisticated European locations and meet sexy foreign men. In The Greek’s Chosen Wife by Lynne Graham, see what happens when gorgeous Greek Nikolas Angelis decides to make his convenient marriage real. The Mancini Marriage Bargain by Trish Morey is the conclusion of her exciting duet, THE ARRANGED BRIDES—we brought you the first book, Stolen by the Sheikh, last month.

Fly to more distant lands for Sandra Marton’s UNCUT story, The Desert Virgin. Feel the heat as ruthless troubleshooter Cameron Knight rescues innocent ballerina Leanna DeMarco. If you haven’t read an UNCUT story before, watch out—they’re almost too hot to handle!

If you like strong men, you’ll love our new miniseries RUTHLESS. This month in The Billionaire Boss’s Forbidden Mistress by Miranda Lee, a boss expects his new receptionist to fall at his feet, and is surprised to find she’s more of a challenge than he thought. Lucy Monroe’s latest story, Wedding Vow of Revenge, promises scenes of searing passion and a gorgeous hero.

The Royal Marriage by Fiona Hood-Stewart is a classic tale of a young woman who has been promised in marriage to a royal prince. Only she’s determined not to be ruled by him and her declaration of independence begins in the bedroom!

We hope you enjoy reading this month’s selection. Look out for brand-new books next month!

He’s got her firmly in his sights and she’s got only one chance of survival—surrender to his blackmail…and him…in his bed!

Bedded by…Blackmail!

The big miniseries from Harlequin Presents®….

Dare you read it?

Don’t miss the next book in this miniseries, coming in April 2006:

Bought by a Billionaire by Kay Thorpe #2534

Wedding Vow of Revenge
Lucy Monroe

www.millsandboon.co.uk

All about the author…
Lucy Monroe

Award-winning and bestselling author LUCY MONROE sold her first book in September 2002 to the Harlequin Presents line. That book represented a dream that had been burning in her heart for years: the dream to share her stories with readers who love romance as much as she does. Since then she has sold more than thirty books to three publishers and hit national bestseller lists in the U.S. and England. But what has touched her most deeply since selling that first book are the reader letters she receives. Her most important goal with every book is to touch a reader’s heart and when she hears she’s done that it makes every night spent writing into the wee hours of morning worth it.

She started reading Harlequin Presents books very young and discovered a heroic type of man between the covers of those books—an honorable man, capable of faithfulness and sacrifice for the people he loves. Now married to what she terms her “alpha male at the end of a book,” Lucy believes there is a lot more reality to the fantasy stories she writes than most people give credit for. She believes in happy endings that are really marvelous beginnings and that’s why she writes them. She hopes her books help readers to believe a little, too…just like romance did for her so many years ago.

She really does love to hear from readers and esponds to every e-mail. You can reach her by e-mailing lucymonroe@lucymonroe.com.

For my Grandmother Lucille and my Great Aunts…you are women who have inspired me my whole life with your wit, your work ethic, your intelligence, your generosity and your zest for living. I want to thank you for that from the very depths of my heart. I love you all. Blessings, Lucy

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER ONE

ANGELO GORDON’S blue eyes narrowed with interest.

“You’re sure of this information, amico mio?” he demanded, his American accent spiced with Sicilian overtones that denoted his reaction to the news more strongly than words could have.

Hawk nodded. “Positive. Baron Randall has been keeping tabs on Tara Peters since their affair ended two years ago.”

“How did you find out?”

“The owner of the security agency Randall has on retainer talks more than he should after a couple of whiskey sours.” Hawk didn’t make those kinds of mistakes, but didn’t mind taking advantage when someone else did.

“That’s convenient.”

“I thought so.”

“Okay. Give me the scoop and don’t leave anything out.”

Hawk tossed the file on Angelo’s desk and waited for the tall Sicilian-American to open it.

He pointed to the news story on top that showed his client’s enemy with his arm around a woman more than a decade his junior. “Randall and Miss Peters met four years ago at a fashion show in New York. He was there with another model, but left with Miss Peters. By all accounts, he swept the young Miss Peters off her feet and into his bed. She gave up modeling and started taking college courses. They were together for eighteen months and broke up when he became engaged to his current wife. Rumor suggests he asked Miss Peters to remain his mistress.”

“She refused.”

“Yes.”

“She was stronger than my mother.” Grudging respect laced Angelo’s voice. “Why is he having her watched?”

“According to my informant, Randall still wants her. He’s given instructions to scotch any possible romantic entanglements. So far, my colleague hasn’t had to make the effort.”

Angelo surged to his feet and turned to look out the window behind his desk. His brooding six-foot-two-inch frame blocked the light and Hawk’s view of upper Manhattan. “What the hell does he expect to accomplish? That’s what I want to know.”

“Obviously reentrance into her life.”

Angelo turned back, his patrician features creased with a frown of disbelief. “That doesn’t make any sense. She said no and apparently meant it.”

“Right. It makes one wonder how long Baron Randall expected his marriage to last in the first place. When he married, his wife’s father had been recently diagnosed with an inoperable heart condition.”

“But good living and exercise have given him a clean bill of health, or at least a new lease on life.”

Hawk smiled cynically. “Much to Randall’s dismay no doubt. The marriage has never been a happy one.”

For which Angelo could take some credit.

Tara wasn’t the only woman Randall had propositioned for the role of his mistress. Others had accepted and thanks to some judicious behind the scenes handling on both Hawk and Angelo’s part, the young Mrs. Randall knew it.

“According to my sources, she will be filing for divorce within the month.”

Angelo inclined his head in acknowledgment of information that would not have come as a surprise. “You think he wants to take up where he left off when he’s free?”

“I can see no other explanation for his behavior. Miss Peters is the only long-term relationship Baron Randall has had in more than a decade that did not profit him business wise. He cheated on her only when he was away from her. For an amoral womanizer like him, that is bloody significant.”

Hawk had never before seen Angelo Gordon wearing that particular expression. “You think he loves her?”

“Love?” Hawk flicked his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Not bloody likely, but I do think he’s obsessed by her. From what information I can gather, she is unique, if only in her ability to walk away from him. My instincts tell me it’s more than that, though. She was very career minded as a model. He was her first serious boyfriend.”

“You think she was a virgin when they met? How old is she?”

“Twenty-four and yes, I think Randall’s the only lover she’s ever had.”

“That does make her unique, especially in Randall’s jaded world.”

“There’s more.”

“What?”

“You aren’t going to believe this.” Hawk had had a hard time believing it himself. “It is simply too damn perfect.”

“And it is?”

“She graduated with her degree in business six months ago and has been in Primo Tech’s management training program for the past four of those months.”

Angelo had bought the hi-tech company in Portland, Oregon, three years ago. Just like all the other companies he bought and resuscitated, it was becoming a lead player in its industry. However, the success of his company was no doubt not nearly as interesting to him in that moment as the fact Tara Peters was employed there.

“It’s fate.”

Hawk’s laugh was every bit as skeptical as Angelo’s. “That is one way of looking at it.”

Angelo sat at his desk after Hawk left, perusing the file on Tara Peters. Hawk had included still shots from several of her fashion shows. They showed a woman of ethereal beauty, shrouded by innocence, but wearing clothing that would tempt a saint to sin. On her tall, model slim body, that nevertheless had curves in all the right places, they were more than a temptation…they were downright provocation.

Her dark brown eyes in the perfectly proportioned oval face, surrounded by a cascade of silky chestnut hair intrigued him…even knowing she had once been Baron Randall’s.

He flipped through the photos until he came to those included with the tabloid articles that had sensationalized her breakup with Randall. The difference between the two sets of pictures wrenched at something inside Angelo he thought long dead. Those same chocolate-dark eyes now reflected the pain of betrayal and lost innocence.

Just like his mother’s had.

He needed to assimilate this piece of information and decide how best to act on it. He didn’t have much time, either. If for no other reason than that Baron Randall would go looking for Tara Peters the minute his wife filed the divorce petition.

That gave Angelo a month, maybe less to act on his newfound knowledge of Randall’s unexpected weakness.

The man who had stolen his company and destroyed his mother deserved to be ruined on every level and Angelo was going to make damn sure that happened.

Tara Peters laughed at the other junior execs around her, at least the female ones. They were primping for the arrival of Angelo Gordon like he was a rock star or something.

“Aren’t you even going to put on lipstick?” Danette Michaels demanded with her usual forthrightness after glossing her own lips and putting her compact mirror away in her desk drawer. “He’s supposed to do a tour of this floor sometime today.”

“No lipstick.” Tara had spent years wearing just the right makeup, dressing with flair, and flaunting the assets that had made her a top model at the age of twenty.

They had also brought her to the notice of Baron Randall and for that alone, she would spend the rest of her life devoid of makeup and dressing in conservative business attire.

Never again.

She straightened the papers on her desk. “My only interest in impressing Mr. Gordon is with my work and I don’t need lipstick to do it.”

Danette rolled her eyes. “You are such an all work and no play kind of girl. Did you ever hear that makes you boring and can give you ulcers before you’re thirty?”

Coming from a woman who had her first serious boyfriend at the age of twenty-one, that was pretty funny.

“My twenty-four-year-old stomach is just fine, thank you and better boring than stomped on I always say.”

“Not every man in the world is like that jerk, Baron Randall.”

Like most people, Danette had read the tabloid accounts of Tara getting dumped by Baron so he could marry his oil heiress. However, unlike most people, the younger woman had not let the stories color her view of Tara. She thought Baron was a world class pig and that her friend was better off without him.

Tara agreed. Now.

But two years ago, she’d felt like she would die from the pain and humiliation of the all too public breakup.

“Of course they aren’t,” she said, trying to stave off another lecture about getting back on the horse so she wouldn’t forget how to ride. Between Danette and her mother, she’d heard it about a thousand times too many. “But right now I’m not interested in finding out. I don’t have time for a man in my life and honestly, I don’t see how you can, either.”

Danette shrugged, her amber cat eyes twinkling.

“Some of us are better at multitasking than others,” she said with a grin. “Anyway, even if your career is all you care about, you should want to make a good impression on Angelo Gordon. He owns this company and several like it.”

“I do want to impress him…with my business acumen.”

“He’s already impressed, Tara.”

Tara spun in her chair to face her manager, surprised Mr. Curtiss was here instead of in the schmoozing session with the upper managers and the company owner.

“Mr. Gordon wants to speak to you privately.”

Tension stiffened her spine as the words reminded her of a similar conversation she’d had with her modeling agent. The woman had told her that Baron Randall wanted to meet her. Tara, naïve idiot that she had been four years ago, had been both flattered and impressed.

“Why alone?”

If her manager thought that an odd question, he didn’t let it show. “He’s impressed with your report on workplace effectiveness. He wants to discuss it with you.”

Relaxing, she smiled. Business. It was just about business, nothing like that other time when the introduction had been a prelude to seduction.

“That’s great, Tara,” Danette said, “I heard the guy is a genius. If he appreciates your brains already, I guess it’s true.”

“Does he want to see me right now?” she asked, feeling a little light-headed.

Sure, she’d daydreamed about the owner of the company being so impressed with her recommendations he wanted to talk to her. What junior executive didn’t? But that kind of stuff didn’t happen in the real world.

Her manager looked at his watch and frowned. “Five minutes ago, actually. I got waylaid by a phone call on my way to tell you.”

Tara Peters walked into Angelo’s temporary office with her back straight and a credible expression of confidence. The only giveaway to her nervousness at being summoned by the owner of the company was the tight clenching of her fingers into small fists at her sides.

Her bone structure was delicate for a woman of her height, which no doubt explained her success as a cat-walk model.

Yet, she looked very different from the still shots of her fashion shows that Hawk had included in the Tara Peters file. Nor did she resemble the pictures that had accompanied the tabloid articles after her breakup with Randall.

All the photos had shown a stunning woman who made the most of her beauty, but no one would accuse this Tara Peters of trading on her beauty to succeed in her job.

She had confined the glorious length of her signature chestnut hair in a tight French braid that fell down her back. She wore no makeup and the small ovals of her nails were unpolished, but buffed. The navy-blue slacks and blazer she wore disguised her figure very well.

He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but her current no-nonsense, almost androgynous attire fit Hawk’s report on her behavior since Baron Randall married another woman.

Tara didn’t date and appeared uninterested in attracting men. Was she still hung up on the monster? The thought did not sit well with Angelo and his usually impassive face creased in a frown before he realized it.

“Mr. Gordon?” The voice was questioning, but not hesitant and he liked that.

He admired strength because weakness…of any kind…cost far too much.

He looked up and met her faintly quizzical brown eyes. “Miss Peters. Please take a seat.”

She moved across the room and slid gracefully into a chair opposite his desk. His opinion changed on the suit. The jacket dipped in at her waist. Her movement had revealed curves that were neither pronounced nor were they so slight her blouse could disguise them completely. The way the clothes tried to hide, but could not help hinting at her femininity made him want to strip them off and see the beautiful body beneath.

It did not help that pictures from her file of her clad in bikinis and other almost-there outfits flashed in his mind’s eye.

Desire vibrated through him with shocking swiftness and urgency, making him glad for the concealment of his desk. He hadn’t responded with this level of physical intensity to the mere sight of a woman since puberty.

He forced his mind through the mental exercises he had learned in the Aikido training he had started as a young boy. He continued to train, using it as a way to keep his body fit and mind focused. Normally it worked without him even having to think about.

This time, he had to wait for the stunning response of his body to subside breath by breath before he could begin to concentrate on his agenda. “I’ve been reading your report on workplace effectiveness. You’ve drawn several interesting conclusions and made an equal number of suggestions that are worthy of note.”

Her eyes lit with pleasure and she smiled, her feminine fragrance teasing his nostrils as she leaned forward. “There’s a wealth of data to be analyzed and interpreted from recent studies on the subject, much of which has been ignored by current management theory.”

He nodded. Whatever else Miss Peters was, she had shown herself to be a natural in her chosen field. “I particularly found your suggestions regarding vacation time of interest.”

“Several studies have shown that employees who put in less overtime, take their vacation yearly and don’t consistently work through their lunch hours are actually more productive than their counterparts who work the longer hours and never take any time off.” She smiled. “Healthier, too. They have fewer heart attacks and are less likely to develop ulcers.”

“You’ve definitely done your homework.”

She blushed at the compliment and he filed the reaction away for future reference. From the way she presented herself, he had to assume her beauty was of much less significance to her than doing well at her job.

Interesting.

And unusual.

“Many of your suggestions fly in the face of corporate policies the world over.”

She leaned further forward in her chair, her oval face animated and flushed in a way he’d like to see somewhere besides the boardroom. “Those management styles are as outdated as the all-male executive staff. They don’t work in today’s dynamic workforce, particularly the organic environment found in the hi-tech industry.”

“Why did you go for a job in hi-tech? Your résumé shows a strong liberal arts background for your business degree.”

She looked disconcerted by his question and settled back in her chair, biting her lip uncertainly. “The job description did not include a requirement in technological education.”

“I’m aware of that, but you did not answer my question.”

She smiled slightly. “Sorry. You’re right.” Her smile grew and her demeanor relaxed. “I like the stimulating atmosphere. Things are always changing, not just the products, but the face of the workforce as well. The job is challenging. But most importantly, I wanted to work someplace I could make a difference.”

“And you thought Primo Tech would be it?”

“Yes.”

He lifted the report that would have caught his attention even if it hadn’t been the ideal conduit for their first meeting. “I would say you are well on your way to doing so.”

“I’m glad you think so.” She beamed and he found himself smiling in return, something he rarely did.

His phone buzzed at exactly the moment he had instructed his secretary to ring through.

He lifted the receiver. “Gordon here.”

“Mr. Gordon, I’m ringing as instructed.”

“Thank you. And my other arrangements?”

“The reservations are made. Dinner at seven-thirty in the restaurant of your hotel.”

“Hold on just a moment.” He pressed the hold button and schooled his face into an apologetic expression, another one he used infrequently. “I’m sorry, I have to take this call.”

Tara stood hurriedly. “Of course.”

She was halfway to the door when he said, “Miss Peters.”

She turned. “Yes?”

“I would like to discuss the report further. Can you meet me this evening for a business dinner at my hotel?”

Despite the fact he had specifically referred to it as business, her eyes filled with wariness. “Dinner?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?” he asked, inflecting his voice with just the right amount of superiority and disapproval to remind her who he was.

She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, her lips flattened in a determined line. “No. I’ll be there. What hotel and what time?”

He told her and then watched her walk out of his office, his attention on the way her slacks outlined her heart-shaped behind. This aspect of his plan for revenge was shaping up to be more pleasure than work.

Seducing Tara Peters would be no hardship at all.

Tara got ready for dinner, her nerves more on edge than they had been in two long years. Why? Because the minute another magnetic, sexy tycoon came on the scene, her body had started reacting. She couldn’t believe it and was thoroughly disgusted with herself.

Worse, she’d seen immediately the unexpected feelings of attraction were mutual. She might have very little practical experience with men, but she’d been on the receiving end often enough to identify when a man was attracted to her. She’d learned early in her modeling career to recognize and avoid it.

Her one failure being both spectacular and devastating.

She hadn’t spent the last two years avoiding men and entanglements just to fall for another Baron Randall. No way. She was smarter than that.

Even brief contemplation of a relationship with a man like Angelo Gordon would be stupidity itself.

Right. Remember that.

Only instincts that had nothing to do with intelligence and everything to do with emotion were sending all sorts of messages to her brain. They urged her to put on a little makeup, change into a more feminine dress and brush out her long hair for goodness sake! She’d done her best to sublimate such impulses for two years.

Her mind said now was not the time for a resurrection, but her heart and body said otherwise.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, she muttered under her breath as she put the final pin in the sleek French roll on the back of her head and surveyed her appearance. She’d changed her slacks for a black skirt and her blouse and blazer for a matching jacket meant to be worn buttoned up as a top.

With her understated black heels and sheer stockings, she had a distinctly Jackie-O appearance without the feminine softening of lipstick and accent jewelry.

Perfect.

No way could her boss misinterpret her outfit as any sort of attempt to entice him on a personal level.

She didn’t care if Angelo Gordon affected her in ways she’d thought deadened by Baron’s betrayal. Wanting him scared her far more than it enticed her and she wasn’t giving into it.

Desire was an emotion that encouraged smart women to make dumb decisions.

Hadn’t she seen that enough growing up with her mom bouncing from one destructive relationship to the next? Her mom had never understood why none of the men stayed. She hadn’t comprehended that the type of powerful, charismatic male she was attracted to traded on those very traits to get what he wanted—sex with a beautiful woman.

However, they’d all been incapable of giving her mom what she needed…love.

Tara’s mom had only broken the cycle by default when miracle of miracles, a strong, sexy man also turned out to have a heart.

It was Darren Colby’s influence in Tara’s life that had led her to believe that kind of man wasn’t always bad news. She was no longer so naïve. Darren was an anomaly in the male species, an alpha male with a heart…but she didn’t figure anomalies like that came along more than maybe once a millennium.

She would stay focused on her job and not the way Angelo Gordon’s dark good looks affected her libido.

Tara walked into the posh downtown hotel, projecting an unshakable confidence that was only skin deep. Inside, she was as nervous as she’d been her first day on the job. More even, because then all she’d been fighting was a fear of the unknown. Tonight, she fought her fear of being weak.

Angelo waited for her at a table in a small private alcove of the hotel restaurant. A historic landmark, the hotel’s rich décor of carved wood paneling leading to cavernously high ceilings was original to its nineteenth century construction. Despite the distance to the ceilings, the rich detail of the da Vinci-like scenes painted there caught her attention.

But even the artwork’s beauty could not keep her focus when she could feel Angelo’s regard across the restaurant. He watched her with unreadable blue eyes as she made her way toward him between linen topped tables graced by well dressed diners. Even from this far away, he exerted an aura of masculine power that sent her heart tripping.

Just like Baron.

Only unlike Baron, she would not allow herself to be fooled into believing Angelo was more than what he appeared on the surface, a ruthless corporate shark.

He stood when she reached the table, his height startling at close quarters. At five foot nine, she was no shrimp, but the top of her head barely reached his shoulder.

She had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. It was a very odd feeling. “Good evening, Mr. Gordon.”

He waited for the maître d’ to seat her before sitting down again. “Angelo, please. I prefer a more relaxed environment in my companies.”

“Your approach appears to be quite effective. You’ve never lost a company yet.”

Something swirled in his indigo gaze as he poured her a glass of wine from the bottle already sitting on the table. “Actually, I have lost one, but that was a long time ago.”

Sensing he had no desire to discuss it further, she took a sip of the fruity wine and then asked, “Angelo is an Italian name?”

Other than the blue eyes, which were not entirely uncommon in Italian men—with his dark hair and tanned good looks, he had a very Mediterranean appearance.

“My mother was Sicilian.”

That explained a lot, but remembering a fashion shoot she’d done outside of Palermo one summer, she said, “Most Sicilian men are a lot shorter than you.”

“My father was American.”

“And tall,” she guessed.

He smiled, making her breath catch. This man was beautiful.

“Yes. According to my mother, that was one of the first things she noticed about him. There was more than a foot disparity in their sizes, but I can never remember them seeming like they did not fit.”

“I’ve heard love can be a great equalizer,” she said with a tinge of mockery she wished she didn’t feel.

But after her childhood and one disastrous personal affair, she had little belief in the emotion so many touted as the panacea for all ills.

“So they say.” His tone was no less cynical than her own.

The waiter came to take their order and she made a point of selecting her own meal. This was not a date and even if it was, she didn’t go in for the old world custom of the male ordering for the female. She’d spent too many years taking care of herself.

“You wanted to discuss my report?” she asked after the waiter left.

“First, I think I should like to know a little more about you, Tara.”

“I’m sure all the pertinent information is in my employee record.”

“Perhaps I prefer to hear it firsthand.”

“I was under the impression this was supposed to be a business dinner.” She kept her tone light, not wanting to offend her boss, but not so light he wouldn’t take the comment to heart.

His midnight gaze caressed her with tactile force and it was all she could do not to shiver. “My closest friends started as business associates.”

“You don’t strike me as a man with a lot of close friends.” She’d meant the words to come out worldly and sophisticated, but instead her voice was two octaves lower than normal and sounded flirtatious, darn it.

“You’re very perceptive.” He cocked his head slightly, his expression challenging her. “That does not mean you could not become one of them.”

“You’re very bold.”

“I didn’t get where I am hesitating to go after what I want.”

“If you want my business expertise, you can have it. If you’re looking for a personal relationship with an employee, I decline.” She couldn’t be more direct than that, but then this man apparently needed blunt.

He nodded, his expression showing no offence. “I can respect that.” Then he smiled. “That does not mean I won’t try to change your mind.”

“I would prefer if you didn’t.”

“I would prefer you did not treat me like a pariah simply because I own the company you work for.”

“Wanting to stick to business is hardly treating you like an outcast.”

“And denying me the possibility of friendship?”

“You don’t need my friendship.”

“You are wrong.” And the intensity in his expression said he was telling her the truth, but how could that be?

Unless his definition of friendship and hers were not quite the same thing. Maybe he was between girlfriends at the moment.

“I have no interest in becoming a business tycoon’s pillow friend.”

CHAPTER TWO

“DO YOU judge every man you meet by Baron Randall’s standards?”

She should not be surprised he knew about her past. Half the modern world had read the tabloid stories. Or at least it seemed that way sometimes. It was a good thing she’d learned early on in her modeling career that someone asking an awkward or painful question did not equate to an obligation on her part to answer it.

“That’s really none of your business, Mr. Gordon.”

“Angelo.”

She barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “Angelo. I work for you and to my knowledge a personal relationship with my employer is not a requirement on my job description.”

His amused but piercing gaze did things to her insides she desperately wished it didn’t. “You are not only forthright, but you’re damn certain of yourself.”

“Yes.” He wasn’t the only person who knew what he wanted and went for it. Rather she knew what she didn’t want—a repeat of her disastrous affair with a ruthless business tycoon.

Despite the fact that Angelo made a pointed effort to restrain his conversation to her business report over dinner, Tara found herself unwillingly enthralled by the man himself. He was intense, dynamic and smart. Smarter than any person she’d ever met and yet, he didn’t dismiss her opinions if they differed from his. She appreciated that more than he could know, truly enjoying the evidence that he respected her even if she wasn’t quite in his league.

That was something she’d always felt was in doubt in her relationship with Baron.

She hadn’t been sure how Angelo would take her not-so-gentle refusal to get personal, but he’d responded with a professionalism and maturity she couldn’t help admiring. She’d known men a lot older than him that reverted to spoiled little boys when thwarted in their pursuit of a woman.

For that reason, she found herself relaxing as the evening progressed, less concerned when their conversation took temporary by-ways not related wholly to human resource management.

They’d spent an hour over dinner before she even realized it.

The waiter asked if they wanted dessert and Angelo looked at her. “Do you have a sweet tooth? I’ve had their raspberry crème brûlée and it is some of the best I’ve tasted anywhere.”

“Crème brûlée is my favorite,” she admitted, her mouth watering at the prospect of indulging in the treat.

With one of his rare, but devastating smiles, he ordered one for each of them.

The desserts arrived and she had to stifle an animal groan of anticipation when she saw the perfect caramelization of the glaze on top.

“You look like you’ve just been offered a dish of ambrosia.”

“Haven’t I?”

He laughed, the sound doing things to her even more insidious than the sight of the decadent treat.

She felt compelled to explain her over the top reaction. “I spent years eschewing refined sugar and processed food of any kind for the benefit of my figure and complexion.”

Appreciative eyes burned over her and she felt like she was wearing a spandex mini that revealed every curve rather than the black Jackie-O suit.

“You must still refrain quite a bit.” His voice caressed her with obvious masculine approval.

For the first time in years, she found herself blushing about a comment made regarding her physical appearance. She’d gotten very used to seeing her body as her tool in trade, but this man made her very aware of herself as a feminine being.

She shrugged, projecting the air of insouciance she should be feeling about his comment. “I didn’t stop modeling all that long ago.”

His eyes narrowed. “I was under the impression you came to Primo Tech straight out of college.”

“I did, but the last couple of years I supported myself with my modeling.”

“After your breakup with Randall.”

She grimaced. “Yes.”

“He paid for your schooling before that?”

She didn’t know why, but she found herself wanting to answer his question, when normally she would have cut such personal conversation off at the knees.

“He wanted to maximize our time together, so I agreed not to work.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t want you to give up school.”

“Oh, he did.” But as much as she’d thought she loved the swine, she’d been unwilling to give up her independence completely, or her dreams for her future.

“You refused.”

“Adamantly.”

“Did you retire from modeling because he wanted you to?”

Again, the question didn’t offend her so much as give her an opportunity to talk about something she’d kept locked away inside for two long years. “I’d always planned on retiring young enough to go to school and move onto a second career. So, when he said he wanted to be the only man in my life, not one in a cast of thousands, I agreed and quit a few years and a few goals before I’d planned to. I was actually flattered he felt so strongly.”

She knew her voice echoed her disgust with herself over her naiveté. Even so, her insistence on taking college courses had been a bone of contention between them until their break-up.

“Do you regret that decision?”

“I find regret a wasted emotion. When I had to go back to work to support myself again, it was harder to get the lucrative jobs, but I survived and I learned a lot in the process.”

Angelo studied her, what looked like real respect warming his gaze. “Yet even after going back to work, you excelled in your studies. I have heard modeling requires a great deal of dedication.”

No doubt he’d dated a few models in his time. Most rich men did, seeing beautiful women as adornments as surely as designers saw models as mannequins to display their wares.

Still, she couldn’t help liking the knowledge he was impressed with her efforts at school rather than offended by them as Baron had been.

“I don’t think I could have modeled full-time and gone to school as well, but I earned enough working through the summers to support myself during the school year.”

“You’re a very determined woman.”

“I’d say that was something you probably understand well.”

“You’d be right.” He pointed his spoon toward her brûlée. “Taste.”

Did he have any idea what the sexy timbre of his voice did to her insides? Of course not, and no way was she letting on either. Better to get over the strange, melting reaction than expose it in any way, but every word was like foreplay to her sexually deprived body.

Bad. This was very bad.

She grabbed her spoon, conversation ceasing while she obeyed his order to taste. She gave a helpless moan of pleasure as the first bite of the perfectly prepared sweet filled her senses. Her eyes closed and she savored the taste she indulged in so rarely.

She’d once had another model describe a chocolate torte as orgasmic, but until this moment she’d never had an erotic reaction to food before. The sensual slide of the vanilla custard across her tongue was just that though and goose bumps formed on her inner thighs as her womb clenched in an astonishing reaction to the delicacy.

Belatedly coming to terms with how her not-so-innocent enjoyment could be misinterpreted, she quickly opened her eyes. Straightening in her chair, she tried to wipe the pleasure from her expression and willed her unruly body to calm down.

Her spoon clattered to the table in her haste to let it go. “Um, it’s very good. You were right.” She forced her gaze to meet his, afraid of what she would see, but unwilling to play the coward. “I guess I got a little carried away there.”

Blue eyes looked back at her with hunger, but he shook his head. “Relax. You look like you think I’m going to pounce.”

“Aren’t you?” She wasn’t an idiot and she wasn’t a tease. She knew what her reaction had to have looked like to him.

A total come-on, despite all she’d said about not wanting to get involved.

“You’ve made your view of a relationship between the two of us very clear, Tara.” He spoke as if instructing a small child and perversely she wanted to tell him she was anything but. “I’m not going to read an invitation in a former model’s obvious love of feeding her starved sweet tooth.”

“Thank you.” And she should feel grateful. Extremely grateful.

Not disappointed.

“No problem. Now, enjoy your dessert.”

He’d let her off the hook with his assurance, so why did she feel even further enmeshed in his web than before?

“So, how was dinner?” Danette asked in a low undertone as she and Tara worked on slides for a presentation their manager was supposed to give to Angelo and the top management string the following morning.

Tara looked around, thankful no one was nearby enough to overhear her friend’s question. The dinner last night had been strictly business, but that wasn’t necessarily how others would interpret it.

After her affair with Baron, she’d been the butt of enough gossip to last her a lifetime. “Shh. I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

Danette’s hazel eyes widened, darkening to green with a knowing gleam. “So it wasn’t just business.”

“No,” Tara snapped, then realized her answer had come out wrong. “I mean yes…I mean it was business and only business.” If she didn’t count the orgasmic dessert. “Okay?”

“I don’t know. Angelo Gordon is a real hottie and you seem pretty frazzled for a woman who had a strictly business date last night.”

“It wasn’t a date at all.”

“Are you saying he didn’t make a move on you?”

How did she answer that? Had their conversation at the beginning of dinner been a move? She thought maybe it had, but then he’d backed off pretty easily.

She took too long to answer and Danette’s expression turned gleefully calculating. “So, he is attracted to you.”

That was something she couldn’t deny without lying. “Could we drop this discussion? We’ve got work to do.”

“Sure, but, hon, just answer one question…if last night was all business and no play, why are you blushing to the roots of your gorgeous hair?”

Tara still hadn’t come up with an adequate reply to her friend’s teasing comment by the time the other woman left work to get ready for her very real date with a budding journalist.

It had bugged her all day. For something like the hundredth time since waking that morning, she shoved thoughts of Angelo to the back of her mind. She forced herself to concentrate on the papers in front of her.

With no distractions around her and fierce effort, it worked. She was so engrossed that security came to tell her all external entrances but the main one had been secured for the evening before she realized what time it was. She looked at her watch and was shocked to see it was well after seven.

She should have left over two hours ago.

Muscles cramped from long hours of sitting in the same position protested and she stood to stretch. Her tummy growled, but her eyes were drawn back to the almost completed report on her desk. Just another hour or so and she would be done.

“Why are you still here?”

She jumped at the sound of Angelo’s voice, her entire body flushing with warmth and she hadn’t even turned to look at him.

When she did, she felt like she’d been hit by a truck. Why did the man have to be so darn sexy? Most of his management team was at least a decade older, balding and showing the effects of middle age in their belt size, but not Angelo. He was tall and lean with muscles to die for and if he was much over thirty, she’d eat the report she’d been editing.

“I was working on a project and got lost to the time.”

“What about this workplace effectiveness model you’ve been trying to sell to management? Doesn’t that include going home on time?”

She shrugged guiltily. “Theory doesn’t always work in reality.”

He smiled, white teeth flashing in his gorgeous face. “No, it doesn’t, but if you’re going to convince my management team of your theories, you’re going to have to live and work by them.”

“You’re right, of course.” She sighed, wishing life was as easy as putting ideas down on paper. “I guess you got caught up in something, too?”

His expression cooled for no reason she could discern. “I was putting together the plans for a new acquisition.”

“You’re buying another company?”

Satisfaction flashed in his eyes, but they remained strangely chilled. “Yes.”

“Um…congratulations.”

“Thank you.” He ran his fingers through the short, dark curls on his head, leaving them mussed and looking way too enticing for her own good. “Have you had dinner?”

“No. I’ll stop and get something on the way home.” She turned and grabbed her suit jacket off the hook on the cubicle wall behind her desk.

As she did so, she realized the sheer white camisole that looked perfectly acceptable under the jacket was much too thin for a business environment without it. It had gotten warm and she hadn’t even been aware of taking the jacket off, but now she wished she hadn’t gotten quite so engrossed in her work.

Looking down, she could see the shadow of nipples that had hardened upon her boss’s arrival and was darn sure he could, too.

“Have dinner with me.” His voice betrayed nothing, but he made no pretense of ignoring the display. Dark indigo eyes flicked from her breasts to her face. “Well?”

Sensation zinged through her, making her tight peaks sting and she shoved her arms into the sleeves of her suit jacket.

Panicked at how tempting the invitation was and the desperate reaction of her body, she blurted the first excuse that came to her mind. “I’m really not all that hungry.”

Her stomach gave immediate lie to her words with an audible growl and she had to bite back a groan of embarrassment.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Uh…”

“Look, Tara, I’m simply interested in sharing some company for dinner. I eat enough meals alone to get tired of it. Stop worrying. I’m not going to pounce.”

That was the second time he’d assured her on that score, but she was beginning to think it wasn’t him pouncing she had to be concerned about.

“I’m sure you’re not short on companions you could call on.” She couldn’t keep the cynical conjecture from her voice.

“You’d be surprised. I’ve never found the company of women with dollar signs in their eyes all that alluring.”

She gave him a frank once-over. “Like women are only interested in you for your money.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Yes.” She’d never been good at prevaricating. She hated lies, no more so than since she’d been lied to so spectacularly by Baron Randall.

“If you find me attractive, why not have dinner with me?”

“Because you are who you are and I am who I am.”

“You mean the whole multimillionaire and junior-management trainee thing?” he asked with droll humor.

She found herself smiling. “Yes, that thing.”

“Why don’t we pretend to be nothing more than an unattached man looking for the company of a woman he admires a great deal for dinner?”

He admired her a great deal? That was a different line than Baron’s had been anyway. He’d been so focused on her beauty and then her sexual innocence, he’d barely given credence to her brain.

“All right, but let’s keep it simple. It’s late.”

“Do you have any suggestions?”

She did and couldn’t help being surprised when he willingly let her direct him to a chain restaurant known for its quick and friendly service. The food was good, but not exactly five-star. Apparently, Angelo didn’t care about eating only in the best restaurants.

She liked that and told him so.

He shrugged. “When you have the freedom and finances to eat where you want, why limit yourself? Besides, this was one of my dad’s favorite restaurants when I was growing up.”

“You grew up in the Pacific Northwest?”

“Seattle.”

“Wow…I guess I thought all big business tycoons came from New York.”

He laughed. “I have an apartment there. Does that shore up your image of me?”

“That depends…do you call it home?”

“I don’t call anywhere home. I travel too much. I have a house in Palermo that would probably be the closest thing.”

“Do you speak Italian?”

“Fluently.”

“Oh…I took French in high school, but I was always more interested in numbers than languages.”

“I’m fluent in several. It comes with the territory, but my mother spoke Italian to me always and we spent part of every year in Sicily with her family.”

“You said she was Sicilian earlier…is she no longer alive?”

“She and my father died within two years of each other.”

“I’ve heard about that kind of devotion…one can’t go on living without the other.” She’d always questioned it though…wondering if two people could ever really be that necessary to each other.

His face contorted as if in pain, but then went so blank she had to wonder if she’d imagined the first expression. “They loved each other very much.”

He said it so coldly, as if he was unmoved by his parents’ emotion.

Still…“Their deaths must have been very hard on you.”

“I survived.”

She nodded. He was too strong not to have done, but she wondered for just a second what the cost had been for him to be so detached about it now.

“My dad walked when I was two.” Tara said after a silent pause. “He didn’t know the meaning of the word devotion.” Or commitment. Or love for that matter.

“Did your mother remarry?”

“Eventually. I had a few uncles who were every bit as allergic to the c-word as my dad before Darren Colby, my step-father, came into our lives.”

“That doesn’t sound like an ideal childhood.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” She laughed, shocked at herself for sharing so much with a man she was determined not to get involved with.

The same thing had happened the night before. It bothered her, but a barrier that existed between her and the rest of the world seemed to be missing with him. Odd, but apparently it wasn’t something she could do much about.

It was like her normal privacy filter was switched off around him.

Thank goodness he was only in Portland for a visit to his company and would be gone soon.

“Your mother must have had lousy taste in her partners,” he said.

“That depends on how you look at it. She’s drawn to dynamic, powerful men. Men a lot like you.”

“For you to have had several male figures in your childhood, they must have been drawn to her, too.”

“For a while anyway. She’s beautiful.”

“You say that like it’s a curse.”

“None of the men who dumped on my mom would have given her the time of day if she’d been plain.”

“And perhaps Baron Randall would not have been attracted to you if you were not equally as beautiful?”

“I prefer not to talk about him.”

“But he is the reason you are so reticent about becoming my friend.”

“I never said that.”

“Do you deny it?”

“No.”

“And the man your mom married, Colby. I bet he was also attracted to her beauty.”

“Darren would love Mom if she was fifty pounds overweight and had a mole on her chin.”

“He sounds like a great guy, but wasn’t he first attracted by her beauty?”

“I suppose.”

“So, it isn’t always a curse.”

“No, but then there aren’t that many men in the world like Darren.”

“Maybe there are more than you think.”

Did Angelo want her to believe he was one of them?

The prospect that he might was even scarier than her own urge to find out.

Over the next few days, Tara couldn’t help feeling he was trying to convince her of that very thing.

Against her will, she found herself more and more attracted to the business tycoon who admired her brain and never criticized the fact she played down her beauty. He was charming to everyone, making Danette practically faint with excitement when he accepted an invitation to an informal barbecue at her place on Thursday night.

Under her brazen front, Danette was actually pretty shy and this would be the first major event she’d hosted at the condo her parents had insisted on helping her buy. Members of the city’s elite, they had no problem providing their daughter with a home most people couldn’t afford after working twenty years.

Even so, Danette had been worried about the success of her party and told Tara so. Having Angelo’s attendance was a major coup, especially since so many other partygoers would be from Primo Tech.

“And don’t you even think about trying to get out of coming now that you know he’s going to be there,” Danette said seconds after Angelo exited their work area.

“I told you I don’t want to end up with another Baron Randall.”

“Good gosh, Tara! Are you blind, or something? Not only is Angelo a good ten years younger than that swine, but the two men are so different they could be opposite species.”

“Oh really? How are they so different?”

“First of all, it’s no secret Baron Randall built his empire using other people.”

A piece of information Tara wished she’d been privy to before meeting him.

“Angelo buys and salvages struggling companies. He’s gotten where he is through the sweat of his own brow.”

“Please.”

“You know what I mean. He worked to build those companies up, just like he worked on this one. He’s earned his tycoon status, not stolen it. And he’s also not a womanizer.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really. Ray did some checking for me at his newspaper. Angelo hasn’t had a steady girlfriend in more than two years and he doesn’t sleep with other men’s wives.”

“Like Ray could know that for certain.”

“Angelo’s newsworthy enough that if he had been caught with the same woman more than once it would have made at least one headline.”

“The operative word being caught and one of the great benefits of being filthy rich is the ability to buy a newspaper’s silence.”

“Baron Randall is rich too, but there are still stories about his womanizing ways in more than a few scandal sheets.”

“Maybe he didn’t care enough to have them squelched.”

“What makes you think Angelo would?”

“Okay, so you’ve got a point. He’s probably not a womanizer. Happy?”

“If you’ll cut the guy some slack, yes.”

She wasn’t going there. “Is Ray going to be at the barbecue?”

“Sure. He’s bringing his camera and taking pictures for my scrapbook.” Danette smiled dreamily. “It isn’t every day you get such a hunk of a multimillionaire in your backyard eating grilled steak.”

Tara couldn’t help laughing. “You are incorrigible.”

Her friend grinned, her eyes filled with infectious laughter. “That’s why you like me so much.”

“So, are things serious between you and Ray?”

It had been her experience that when her friends started making cooing noises about settling down, they went into matchmaker mode with a vengeance and this barbecue invitation couldn’t be seen as anything but.

Danette chewed on her bottom lip. “I think so. At least for me. He hasn’t said anything about love, but he spends all his free time with me.”

“That’s a very good sign.”

“I hope so.”

And if it were true…what did that say about her and Angelo? They weren’t dating, but he certainly managed to fill up most of her free time.

Thursday dawned bright and clear, the Oregon sunshine for once unclouded by threats of rain. Tara walked to work from the light rail terminal with a smile on her face. It was a good day to be alive.

A strong masculine hand gripped her shoulder before she walked into the building. “You look happy.”

She smiled up at Angelo, for once allowing herself to enjoy her body’s reaction to the devastating man’s presence. It wasn’t as if anything could happen in front of the building in plain view of the parking lot and the rest of Primo Tech’s employees. “I love the sunshine.”

“It’s a great day for your friend’s barbecue.”

“Yes, it is. Danette will be pleased.”

“Speaking of, would you like me to pick you up on my way?”

“I don’t…”

“I’d feel more comfortable arriving with someone.”

“I don’t see you as the shrinking violet type.”

“I’m not.” His expression said he couldn’t imagine such a thing, either. “But I would still like to bring you with me.”

They were both going and a car ride there and back could hardly do any damage. After all, she’d been in the car with him twice now and come away unscathed. “Sure, why not?”

His hand slid up her shoulder and cupped her nape, sending her thoughts skittering to the four winds. “I’ll look forward to it.”

She watched him walk away thinking maybe unscathed was too strong a term to describe her living on the edge of going for another tycoon.

CHAPTER THREE

THE phone was ringing when Tara walked through the door of her apartment at twenty-five minutes after five. She sprinted across the small foyer and picked it up from the hall stand. “Hello?”

“Hey, hon…just wanted to make sure you’re not going to dress like a bag lady now that the big boss is coming.”

Danette.

“Sheesh…you called me to bug me about what I’m going to wear to your casual barbecue? Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Right…it’s casual and that means shorts and a T-shirt. Don’t you dare show up in one of your casual-but-really-they-are-for-work-outfits.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “What difference does it make?”

“Well, now that’s an interesting question. It shouldn’t make any difference…to you. I mean, if you’re really not interested in the boss, then you shouldn’t be bothered exposing a little flesh around him.”

The idea of being around Angelo and wearing a pair of hip-hugging shorts and T-shirt that showed a glimpse of her stomach when she raised her arms made Tara’s body flush with heat…and not from embarrassment.

“Come on,” Danette added, “it’s over eighty degrees outside. Be practical.”

“I won’t show up in a skirt and hose!”

“You’d better not and don’t forget your swimsuit.” Danette had sole use of the pool area at her condo complex to host her barbecue.

Tara loved the water, but if wearing shorts around Angelo made her jumpy, how would she deal with a swimsuit? “I’m not going to be swimming.”

“Oh, please…did I mention it’s eighty-some degrees out there? Of course if you get too hot and want to cool off, I could lend you one of mine.”

Remembering her friend’s penchant for string bikinis that showed more flesh than some bandages, Tara made a note to grab her own suit.

Just in case.

Angelo rang Tara’s doorbell with more anticipation than he’d felt for a date in years.

Tara Peters was every bit as beautiful as her photos had shown, but she was also a very intriguing woman. He had no difficulty understanding Randall’s fascination with her.

Angelo wanted her, too, which made this aspect of his revenge against the other man sweet indeed.

The door to her modest brownstone swung open and his breath suspended in his chest, all thought ceasing in a wave of shrieking male hunger that had him wanting to push her back into the apartment and claim her body as his own.

Denim shorts clung to her curves, stopping high enough on her thigh to make her well-toned, honey tanned legs look miles long. Her lemon-yellow T-shirt did some clinging of its own, revealing the fact her bra was so flimsy he could see her nipples peaking through the soft cotton.

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