Intimate Betrayal

Dear Reader,

Thank you for picking up Intimate Betrayal. This sexy, suspenseful novel was the first of three of my novels to be made into a TV movie. The lead roles were portrayed by actors Monica Calhoun and Khalil Kain, who brought the characters Reese Delaware and Maxwell Knight to life. The heat between these lovers sizzles from their very first meeting. It’s one of the reasons I’m so glad that Harlequin has reissued Intimate Betrayal, so that even more readers can enjoy this sexy couple.

If this is your second time reading this novel or if it’s the first, I hope you love each and every twist and turn, and be sure to keep a glass of cold water nearby!

Happy reading,

Donna

Intimate Betrayal
Donna Hill

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To all my wonderful readers who have faithfully

kept me in print for 21 years! You all are awesome.

Donna

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Epilogue

Prologue

New York

Methodically, he paced the spacious confines of his posh mid-town Manhattan office, as stealthily as a caged black panther. His movements were smooth, controlled, precise—as was every aspect of his life.

One large hand was hidden in the pocket of his imported navy blue slacks, the other absently caressing the silken hairs of his ebony mustache.

On the surface, it appeared that Maxwell Knight was simply contemplating another brilliant computer innovation. That was on the surface. Beneath the inscrutable facade, turmoil and a sense of his life spinning out of control built steadily within him, growing in intensity.

His usually smooth, bronze-toned brow was furrowed in a maze of concentration. The last half hour of verbal volleyball with his Board of Directors had his sharply honed six-foot-three-inch frame coiled with tension—ready to spring at the slightest provocation.

He turned toward the floor-to-ceiling window, the expanse of the New York skyline spread out before him. From the ninety-fifth floor, Maxwell usually felt on top of the world, able to conquer anything or anyone. This unprecedented sense of futility over his own destiny filled him with an emotion he could not grasp.

At thirty-three, he had accomplished what many only dreamed of—read about—wished for. The existence of M.K. Enterprises—his self-named corporation—and his wizardry with computer programming had catapulted him into the limelight, the one place he had no desire to be. He guarded his privacy with a voracious tenacity. If anyone wanted to know about the M.K. behind M.K. Enterprises, they could read about it in the company’s annual report, he felt. There was no reason to interview him. No reason to delve into his life—open doors that were best kept closed. But his development of the computer chip that was touted to revolutionize the speed of computer processing had set off a series of events that were no longer stoppable.

The Board had voted unanimously to take the company public, and he had agreed. But in order to make M.K.’s entry into the stock market an unquestionable success, they had also voted—against his wishes—to give the public what they’d craved for more than five years, an in-depth interview with Maxwell Knight, boy wonder.

His firm, smooth jaw clenched as he drew a deep contemplative breath. Something other than notoriety prompted the actions of the Board. They’d never given a damn in the past whether or not the company made headlines. These months prior to their launch into the market were crucial and best kept secret. Now was not the time to have some reporter following him around. If word leaked out, there would be hell to pay. Turning away from the window, his dark, almond-shaped eyes that curved slightly upward at the tips—the single trait that hinted at his mixed heritage—gazed upon the magazine he’d tossed on his desk.

Looking at it now, his misgivings, no matter how irrational, ignited anew. Phillip Hart, the publisher of Visions Magazine, had hounded him for months to give them the exclusive rights to an interview. Until today, Maxwell had been able to deny him.

The face of Barack Obama stared back at him from the cover. Yes, it was true that Visions had a stellar reputation in the industry. It was also true that it staked that reputation on getting beyond the surface of its subjects. Some of the biggest names in the journalism industry had written for Visions. That wasn’t the issue for Maxwell. The issue was, he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what they might uncover.

Chicago

Reese Delaware was the type of woman who could charm a zebra right out of its stripes. Her powers of persuasion bordered on being lethal in a totally seductive way. She knew it and used her charm, wit and feminine wiles as easily as she breathed. Today was no exception. She was determined to convince the bull-headed editor of Visions Magazine that she could handle the interview of a lifetime even if it turned into another two hours of tug-of-war.

Many before her had tried and failed to get an exclusive with Maxwell Knight. Reese had no delusions of being among that group.

“Mr. Hart,” Reese crooned in her distinctly throaty voice, tipped with southern charm. “If I say I can do something—I can.” She gave him a long, slow look from startling amber eyes. Inwardly, she smiled as she watched the flush of crimson rise from his neck and mottle his face. She recrossed her long milk-chocolate legs.

Phillip Hart cleared his throat. He’d bumped heads with hundreds of hungry journalists over the years. He had yet to meet one who could compare with Reese Delaware. There was something that drove her, almost possessed her, to squeeze out every imaginable detail in a story. He’d already made up his mind to give her this assignment, but he couldn’t resist the opportunity to see her use her “skills” to convince him.

“How soon can you be ready to leave for New York?” he asked in monotone, struggling to quell his rising libido.

“As soon as I can pack,” she replied with a calm shrug that belied the rush of adrenaline that pumped through her veins.

Phillip leaned back in his overstuffed leather chair and peered at her from beneath puffy eyelids. He pursed his thin pink lips. “You may just be the person to get this job done right, Ms. Delaware.” He threaded his fingers together. “You have sixty days to get this interview completed and on my desk, with pictures and quotes from the man himself and any and everybody who knows him,” he added, pointing a stubby, cigarette-stained finger at her.

Reese felt like leaping out of her seat and throwing her arms around Phillip Hart’s fat neck. However, she remained outwardly nonplussed, as if the whole discussion couldn’t have gone any differently.

“You’ll have your story, Mr. Hart,” she said, that slow smile easing across her mouth. “And it’ll be the best piece of work you’ve ever read.”

Chapter 1

Maxwell sat behind his desk, his fingers steepled in front of him, his heavily lashed eyes almost closed as he spoke to his secretary, Carmen Valez.

“Have the office managers in the Los Angeles office and in Tokyo be prepared for our arrival,” he instructed in his characteristically soft-spoken modulation.

His heavy baritone tended to sound threatening even in the most innocent of circumstances, Carmen recalled, thinking back to the early years of working with Maxwell. Over the years, he’d trained himself to speak in calm, measured tones, in a pitch so sensual and alluring that his voice seemed to compel the listener to draw closer and do his bidding. It bordered on hypnotic. But just as it could be a soothing balm, it could be as crushing as the blows he’d mastered as a ninth-degree black belt. Carmen was always grateful that his wrath had never been directed at her.

She’d been with Maxwell since he opened the doors of M.K. Enterprises, five years earlier. They’d worked side by side every day for those five years, and sometimes she felt she knew him no better today than she did when she walked in the door. Whatever Maxwell thought or felt about anything that wasn’t job related, he kept to himself. It was rare that he allowed the man inside to show through. She felt privileged to have been the recipient of his inner thoughts on those rare occasions. That didn’t make him unpleasant to work with. On the contrary, he was probably one of the most charming and certainly the most gorgeous man she’d ever worked for. But he never let anyone get beyond the invisible wall he’d erected around himself. She felt sorry for the poor soul assigned to write the article about the enigmatic Maxwell Knight.

“When should I expect the reporter, Maxwell?”

For a fraction of a second, a shadow seemed to pass across his exotic bronzed features. “The Board received a fax this morning stating that a Reese Delaware would be arriving this afternoon,” he replied in a turned-off tone.

“Should I make flight arrangements for Mr. Delaware as well, since you’ll be traveling together?”

“I’m sure Mr. Delaware can make his own arrangements. But should he need some assistance, see what you can do.”

“No problem.” She gazed at him and his eyes met hers. “It’s going to be fine,” she said softly. “Don’t worry so much.”

He waved off her well-meant sentiment. “You know how I feel about this whole business, Carmen. This reporter is going to be a royal pain in the ass, and I’m the one stuck with having to squire him around.” He clenched his jaw in frustration. “Reporters have been the bane of my existence for as long as I can remember. I prefer to stay as far away from those vultures as possible.”

Carmen pressed her lips together to suppress a smile. “At least try to be pleasant.”

Maxwell grumbled something unintelligible deep in his throat.

“Anything else?”

“If you would just check and make sure that the house in San Diego is taken care of and fully stocked, I’d appreciate that. And make whatever accommodations are necessary for the trip to Tokyo.”

“I’ll take care of it right away, and then I’m off to lunch.” Carmen rose to leave.

Slowly Maxwell lowered his hands and placed them on the table, the first time he’d moved since Carmen entered the room. He smiled. “Thank you, Carmen. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Neither do I,” she teased, closing the door gently behind her.

Pushing away from the desk, Maxwell stood. What was he so concerned about? he chastised himself. The reporter was interested in how a seemingly ordinary kid from Maryland had become the leading computer expert in the world, beating out the Microsoft giant by mere months in the development of the ultra-fast processing chip. He was the first black to reach the heights that he’d achieved in the industry. As a result, he continued to be a prime target for newshounds who wanted the “inside story.” What made Maxwell Knight tick?

He sighed, resigning himself to the fact that there wasn’t much he could do about the situation. However, he would not allow access to his private life. He would control the direction of the interview.

He recrossed the highly polished wood floors and around the partition to where his drafting table rested. Slipping out of his taupe jacket, he hung it on the back of the chair and sat down, rolling up one sleeve and then the other. He slid the magnifying lens over the grids on the paper and began to work. Within moments he was immersed in what he loved best, developing computer chip circuits.

The persistent buzzing on his intercom finally jarred him away from his work. Frowning, he checked his watch. “Damn.” He’d been sitting at his desk for three hours straight. In one smooth motion, he hopped down from the stool and reached for the phone that hung on the wall behind him.

“Yes, Carmen.”

“Ah, the reporter from Visions Magazine is here.” Carmen looked across to where Reese Delaware sat.

Maxwell clenched his jaw and drew a deep breath. “Send him in,” he bit out, snatching his finger away from the intercom button.

“But it’s not a…” Carmen’s response was lost on him. She turned toward Reese, her smile wavering as she shrugged in apology. “He’s really quite nice,” she offered.

Reese picked up her heavy briefcase and crossed the space that separated her from Carmen. She stood in front of Carmen’s desk. Reese’s right eyebrow rose speculatively. “He thinks I’m a man,” she stated more than asked, just the barest hint of amusement lacing her husky voice.

Carmen looked up at the striking woman, a tone of conspiracy in her response, “It appears so.”

Reese’s mouth curved into a grin. “May I go inside now?”

“Of course.” Carmen stood up. “Follow me, Ms. Delaware. Mr. Knight’s office is right down this corridor. I’m Carmen Valez, executive assistant in charge of East Coast operations and Mr. Knight’s personal assistant. My desk is back there also, I’m just covering for lunch.” They proceeded down the hall until they reached twin glass doors. Carmen placed her palm on the scanner and the doors slid open. Reese’s eyes widened in awe. She’d only seen that done on television and in the movies.

She dutifully followed Carmen down the acoustically sound-treated, semi-hushed hall. Futuristic offices and security cubicles to the left and right were closed off from the hallway traffic by huge Plexiglas panels. Behind these smoke-tinted panels, high-tech equipment, most of which she couldn’t even give a name to, occupied much of the space, expelling information to white-coated technicians and to others who looked no different from the video-game junkies who haunted the arcades.

What a group of nerds, she mused. She wondered if the mysterious Maxwell Knight was half as uninteresting.

Carmen stopped at the security panel and repeated the previous process. Upon entering the next corridor they turned left and Reese was instantly aware of the change in decor. There were no more glass walls. Heavy wood doors with gold-plated name tags had taken their place. Here was the suite of executive offices that ran M.K. Enterprises. “We call this the Black Forest because of all this oak,” jibed Carmen.

She slowed, then stopped in front of an intricately carved door. She tapped once and turned the knob. Stepping aside she opened the door for Reese to enter.

Maxwell wasn’t rude by nature, but this whole interview business had put him in a foul mood. He hadn’t put on his jacket and didn’t even bother to look up from his drafting table when the door opened.

“Have a seat, I’ll be with you in a minute,” he said with all the civility he could summon.

Reese’s eyes swept across the room to locate the southern preacher’s voice that seemed to emanate from the depths of a gospel standard.

Maxwell’s heightened senses, ever alert, caught the subtle, yet potent whiff of her African Musk body oil before she’d stepped completely across the threshold. Every muscle in his body tensed, as if sensing imminent danger.

He came from around the dividing wall and their worlds collided. Reese Delaware was not a man by any means. The reality slammed against his invisible wall, causing tiny fissures in the structure.

Reese stepped farther into the room, noting the infinitesimal look of surprise that widened the irises of his unusual eyes. This was no nerd. She used her warm, slow smile as a beacon, allowing it to cut a path directly to his outstretched hand.

“Reese Delaware,” she announced in a tone that seemed to stroke the tightened muscles of his body.

Husky, throaty, smoky, sultry. Her voice was all that and more. No. This definitely would not work.

“Ms. Delaware,” he responded, his body virtually vibrating from the pressure of her slender hand in his. She was the first to pull away.

“I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing.” He paused to gauge her reaction, and much to his chagrin he saw nothing.

She shot him a steady look from behind luminous amber eyes that seemed to whisper, “come to me.”

He cleared his throat, his own hot stare meeting hers. “I’m sure that everything there is to know about my company can be gleaned from our annual reports.”

Reese placed her briefcase at her feet, looked up at him from beneath heavy black lashes, then took a seat opposite his desk. With a deliberance that bordered on an “X” rating, she crossed her long legs. Her short, canary yellow skirt barely hit her mid-thigh. Max tore his gaze away.

“Let’s get right to the point,” she began, her low voice threading its way through his bloodstream. “You don’t want me here. You know it and I know it. I don’t have a problem with that, because I have a job to do, one which I take just as seriously as I’m sure you take yours. I intend to get my job done,’ she added, emphasizing each word with an almost musical cadence. “So—” she exhaled a long breath “—we can do this the easy way or we can do it the ugly way.” She flashed him a brilliant “Colgate” smile.

Damnit, he liked her. When was the last time that anyone, least of all a woman, told him just where to get off? However, these shaky emotions could be his undoing—and that couldn’t happen. Think with the head on top of your neck, buddy, he warned himself.

“And not to belabor the subject,” she continued, “but I’m not the least bit interested in your company, Mr. Knight.” She paused for effect. “I’m interested in you.”

Maxwell gave her a long, hard look. “Humph,” he chuckled. “You seem pretty sure of yourself, Ms. Delaware.”

“Call me Reese, since we’ll be working so closely together. And yes, I am very sure of myself. I have to be in this business—Max.” She saw the nerve jump beneath his right eye and mentally ticked off a point for herself. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down for a minute. If he got the slightest inclination that he could railroad her, or intimidate her, this whole trip would be for nothing, just as he’d said. She had no intention of returning the ten-thousand-dollar advance. The money had been a lifesaver. Had it not been for the windfall, she’d probably be looking for someplace else to live. At least her apartment was secure for the time being. If only the other holes in her life could be filled as easily.

Maxwell turned away from her, took a seat behind his desk and proceeded to review the stack of documents in front of him. He didn’t bother to look up when he next spoke. “I hope, Reese, that you’re as talented at making yourself invisible as you claim you are at your job.” He signed a document, put it to the side and continued, “I don’t want to be hovered over, interrupted when I’m designing, or followed to the men’s room.”

She bit down on the inside of her lip to keep from laughing.

Suddenly he looked up, and she was assaulted once again by the allure of his eyes. She swallowed, cocked a brow and met his gaze head on.

“I was informed,” he continued in that voice that could make a good girl do wicked things, “by the Board that you’d be with me for the next two months.”

“I have that long to complete my story and hand it in,” she corrected. “I’m sure I’ll finish before then so that we can get out of each other’s way as soon as possible.”

The tiny corner of his mouth lifted, indicating the bare beginnings of a smile. “I hope you have your passport in order. After leaving the Los Angeles offices, I’ll be heading to Tokyo.”

“I’m aware of that. I was given your itinerary. Actually, I’m looking forward to the next six weeks.” She smiled that slow, burning smile again and he felt his insides begin to smolder.

Maxwell stood and shoved his hands into his pants pockets, partly in dismissal, but mostly because he didn’t know how his body would react if he touched her again.

Her eyes challenged his. She straightened her shoulders. “What time do you come in?”

Even a simple question sounded suggestive coming out of that mouth of hers, Maxwell thought, annoyed.

“I’m in the office by eight.”

“Then I guess that’s when we’ll see each other again.” She bent to retrieve her briefcase. “It was a pleasure to finally meet you Max. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”

“Take the elevator directly to your right,” Maxwell instructed, ignoring the pseudo-friendly overture. “Security on board will see you out.”

Without another word, she turned and strolled out of the office, her hips swaying to a slow, erotic beat that only she could hear.

Alone now in his office, Maxwell could hear the rapid beating of his heart, feel the throb that pulsed between his muscular thighs, smell the scent of her that had settled over him like morning dew. This isn’t going to work, he realized, and the sooner that was understood the better. Maxwell strode across the room, slung his hand into his pants pockets and stood in front of the window. He’d find out how much her advance was and write a check to whomever. The quicker Reese Delaware was out of his way and his life, the better for everyone.

For several seconds, unobserved, Reese stood on the opposite side of Maxwell’s door, concentrating on breathing and getting her legs to stop trembling. Briefly she shut her eyes, and took a deep, calming breath.

That was more than just animal magnetism in there, Reese realized as she pushed the button for the elevator. Whatever thing that connected them and virtually lit up the room with electricity was something so powerful, it frightened her with its force.

Sure, she’d been turned on by men before and relished the thrill of watching them when she played “the game.” This was no game—and whatever it was, she couldn’t let it interfere with what she’d come to do. She would not. Getting at the truth was what drove her. It was what woke her up in the morning. If she couldn’t find it or have it in her own life—she’d be damned if she wouldn’t uncover it in everyone else’s.

The elevator slowly descended. Reese exited and strolled out into the sprawling complex of the Plaza. For now, she would put thoughts of Maxwell Knight aside. She’d deal with him tomorrow. What she needed was a good night’s sleep so that she’d be sharp enough to duel with him toe to toe.

But sleep was not to come. For the first time in three years, the nightmares began again.

Chapter 2

The following morning, Reese took special care in preparing for what she knew would be a day of confrontation.

She’d barely slept two hours the entire night. She’d tossed, turned, leaped up in a sweat, dozed and began the process again.

Her hands were shaking when she attempted to stroke her lashes with mascara. “Must be those five cups of coffee you drank in less than an hour,” she muttered to her reflection, attempting to smile.

Pressing her lips together, she shut her eyes and hung her head, bracing herself with her palms against the cool white porcelain sink. Her head pounded.

It had been three years since she’d had the nightmares. The headaches had all but disappeared. She no longer had to take the prescription medication for the pain; over-the-counter painkillers worked just fine. Until last night. The pain had gotten so intense, she’d had to call her physician in Chicago to phone in a prescription to the all-night drugstore.

She tasted salt in the corner of her mouth. She opened her eyes to see the tears slide slowly down her cheeks. “Not again,” she whispered. “Please not again.”

Maxwell knotted his silk tie and clipped it to his blue pin-striped shirt with a gold clasp bearing his initials: MJK. He took a final look in the mirror, his reflection bringing to the forefront his mixed ancestry. He peered a bit closer and brushed his finger across his left eyebrow where a martial arts mishap had left its mark.

He breathed heavily and shrugged into his jacket. The look of the corporate executive never suited him, but he also realized that it was all part of the facade. Although he always felt more comfortable in jeans, sneakers, and a sweatshirt, he’d always done what was necessary to fit in. Thinking that perhaps by doing so, he’d avoid the extra looks, the questions that had dogged him most of his life.

Maxwell was never ashamed of his mixed Japanese and African-American heritage. For the most part, his exotic looks acted as a magnet, drawing people to him. It was the questions, raised eyebrows, and murmurs of feigned understanding that bugged him the most. He couldn’t answer the questions about his natural mother. He never knew her. According to James Knight, his father, his mother Suki had been killed in Japan shortly after his birth. James had married his stepmother, Claudia, some months later. And since Maxwell could not answer the questions about his Japanese mother, he’d created a picture of her to assuage the missing link of his life.

Over time, he’d gradually built up a wall around himself, keeping people and questions at bay. Yet there was a part of him that believed there was more to the story than his father cared to divulge.

He shook his head, scattering his ruminating. Now was not the time to indulge in things he could not change. So he continued to walk the line between being black and being Japanese, hoping that one day the two worlds would somehow meld into one.

Leaving his bedroom, he collected his keys and briefcase and walked out into the warm, early summer morning to face his day and the probing of Reese Delaware, a day he’d spent years trying to avoid.

Reese was already seated in the reception area when he got off the elevator. She was so engrossed in typing something onto her laptop computer, she didn’t even look up, apparently unaware of his arrival. For a moment, he was glad to see her in her bright lime green linen suit. She wore her hair differently, he noted. Her shoulder-length tresses were pulled away from her face and neck and piled on top of her head in a tumble of jet black curls.

Then, just as quickly as the moment of joy had filled him, it was replaced with the realization that her only purpose was to dig into his life. His smooth brow creased into a frown. Loudly, he cleared his throat. Her head snapped up. Their eyes connected and the charge popped back and forth between them.

“Good morning. Glad to see you’re an early riser,” he greeted. He turned abruptly and strode down the hall to his office, his gait smooth and measured.

Reese took an exasperated breath and snapped her laptop shut. Collecting her things from the seat next to her, she rose and followed him down the corridor to his office. “Why did you come in through the peon entrance? You do have a private elevator,” Reese queried in a taunting note, quickening her pace.

Maxwell pressed his palm on the scanner and stepped beyond the opened doors. “I’m in the habit of taking a quick run through of my facilities before I settle in for the day, if you must know, Ms. Delaware,” he grumbled in a caustic tone. He opened the door to his office.

“I have a very full day today, Ms. Delaware.”

“Are we back to formalities so soon?” she retorted, closing the door behind her.

He turned toward her, and his heart slammed hard against his chest. “Habit,” he offered, knowing that his real reason was the threat of intimacy. Calling her by her first name personalized her, softened her, took her from being a prying journalist to a breathtaking woman. A situation he had no intention of indulging.

Reese shrugged. “Suit yourself, Max.” Meandering across the room, she took real note of her milieu. Maxwell Knight surrounded himself with an eclectic blend of Asian and African art.

His desk was of black lacquer, embossed with intricate jade and gold carvings along its edges. To the far left was a low wooden table surrounded by four pillows covered in brilliant African prints of oranges, golds and bronzes. Above the arrangement, hanging on the wall were two frightening looking swords, with black and gold handles and blades crafted from the finest steel. They glistened menacingly in the sunlight. On the opposite wall, beyond the partition that housed his drafting table, was an enormous wall unit of black lacquer and glass that encased an array of hand-carved statues and artifacts, including a set of African counting sticks. And then there was the bookcase that contained volume upon volume of every imaginable type of literature. Yes, Maxwell Knight was a very interesting man indeed, but it would take all of her skills and whatever else she needed to crack through the veneer he’d painted over himself.

“What’s on our agenda?” She took a seat, and pulled a notepad from her briefcase.

“I have a meeting with the R & D techs—the Research and Development technicians,” he corrected, noting the puzzled look on her exquisite face, “at ten.”

“Will you be discussing the computer chip?”

“Yes, it’s part of the meeting,” he answered tersely, avoiding her steady amber gaze.

Reese nodded and made a note. “Will it be a problem if I bring a tape recorder into the meeting?”

Maxwell’s head snapped in her direction. “I don’t recall inviting you, nor do I recall your asking to attend.”

“Consider it asked,” she tossed back, glaring at him.

“Fine,” he conceded on a growl deep in his throat. “But tape recording is out of the question and if I ask you to leave the room, I expect that you will—without a problem.”

She flashed a coy smile. “Do I appear to be the type of woman to cause problems?” Languorously she crossed her long legs.

Yes, his mind screamed, and you know it. “I really wouldn’t know that, Ms. Delaware, now would I?”

“Well, Max, we’ll just have to find out, now won’t we? In the meantime,” she continued, not giving him a chance to recover, “I’d like to get started with some background information.” She leaned down and reached into her bag to retrieve her recorder, and in doing so, gave Max a brief glimpse of the half-moons that strained against the fabric of her V-cut jacket.

He clenched his jaw and turned away.

Reese straightened and placed the recorder on the desk that separated them. Leaning slightly forward, she depressed the record button.

“I always find it best if the subjects ignore the machine and just talk as thoughts come to them.” She took a breath. “Why don’t we start from the present and work our way backward. I think I’d like to open the story with the excitement surrounding your development of the computer chip and its impact in the marketplace. From there, we can delve into the man that made it all happen.”

While she spoke, Maxwell was transfixed. Suddenly, he viewed her as the seasoned professional that she purported herself to be. She was poised, articulate and direct. Gone was the femme fatale who used her charm to keep men nipping at her heels. She knew when to play and when not to. He liked that.

With less reluctance than he’d anticipated, Maxwell took his seat behind his desk, leaned back, and waited, crossing his arms over his taut belly.

“How soon will the chip be ready for the consumer?” she began. “And how will it all come about?”

In measured tones, Maxwell laid out the future plans for the company he’d built from scratch. “In less than six months, M.K. Enterprises will be put in direct competition with the computer giants that have dominated the computer-chip industry for decades. The speed and software adaptability of the chip will revamp everything we understand computers to be today. We are braced at the threshold of an exciting new era…”

As Reese listened to Maxwell talk in that mesmerizing voice, it was the first time she saw him actually animated. The cool control, almost imperceptible movements were gone. He spoke with his hands, his eyes, his body. The excitement and pride rang through the melodic timbre of his rich baritone. He exuded a raw energy that was contagious. She became entranced, captivated by the magic of his dream.

While he talked and looked into her eyes, he believed, if only for the moment, that she was listening to him, interested in him as a man and not just someone from whom something could be gained. For his entire life, women were with him because of his looks, schoolmates hung around because of his brains, business associates befriended him because of what it could do for them by association. In the dojo he was simply feared for his mastery of the arts. He didn’t want her to know him. Intimacy only brought him pain. His experience with Victoria Davenport proved that.

The sound of the recorder shutting off broke the spell.

Reese blinked several times as if awakening from a dream. Maxwell cleared his throat and slowly brought his hands up to steeple in front of his mouth. Reese watched the subtle transformation, almost as if someone else had replaced the man she was so briefly introduced to. She was more intrigued than ever.

“I need to get ready for my meeting,” he said. “Would you like something to eat or drink in the meantime? I could have Carmen get something for you, if you’re hungry.”

Was that a hint of gentle concern she heard in his voice, or was she only hoping? “I think I’ve had my fill of coffee for the day,” she said with a forced smile, recalling her sleepless night. “But some orange juice would be great if you have it.”

“You didn’t sleep well,” he stated, surprising her with his astute observation. “And you have the beginnings of a headache.”

“What makes you say that?” She watched him rise from his seat and come around to stand behind her.

He placed the balls of his thumbs at her temple and slowly began to rotate them, emitting just the slightest bit of pressure. She almost gasped out loud when the heat of his touch burned through the pain, stripping it away.

“Just relax,” he crooned. “Close your eyes. This will only take a moment,” he added in a hypnotic cadence. He shut his eyes when a piece of his wall crumbled at his feet.

The sensations that rippled through her sent rivers of soothing warmth floating through her body. Unable to resist, her eyes slid closed of their own volition. Inch by inch she felt her body relax, unwind and purr with delight.

He knew he should have never touched her. He should not have come close enough to inhale the fresh scent of her hair, absorb the sensual aroma of her femininity. It was a mistake, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“You have magic in those hands,” she said dreamily. She reached up behind her and clasped his hands in hers.

He pulled his hands from her grasp as if burned and stepped abruptly back.

Reese turned halfway in her seat to look back at him. His nostrils flared as if he struggled to breathe. Yet he barely moved.

“I…I feel much better.” Her eyes roamed over him, searching for a clue to what he was feeling. “Thank you,” she whispered. “How did you know?” she asked again, her gaze following him as he busied himself at the wall unit.

Maxwell bent down and opened the bottom cabinet to reveal a mini refrigerator. He took out a glass pitcher filled with what appeared to be fresh-squeezed orange juice. He then took a glass and filled it.

“It’s in the eyes,” he said finally, crossing the room in a steady fluid motion. “And that little crease between your brows.” He looked down into her upturned face.

Reese opened her mouth to refute him, but couldn’t—it was true. “Thank you—for the juice and the massage,” she muttered pulling all the stops to regain her composure.

“I’ve got to be going. Feel free to sit here for a moment. Carmen can show you to the conference room when I’m ready.” He needed to get away—now.

“I’d prefer to go with you, if you don’t mind.”

“Actually I do,” he replied, comfortably reverting to the man that could not be reached. “There are a few sensitive items I need to go over with the team.” He gave her a long, unwavering look. “I’d prefer if you’d wait as I asked. I’ll buzz Carmen and let her know when you can come in.” His tone was clear. There would be no compromise.

She swallowed the last of the juice. “Fine.’ She stood to leave, preferring to wait with Carmen, perhaps ask her a few questions about Mr. Knight. “If it’s not too much of a bother, I’d rather wait near Carmen’s desk. It’s suddenly very chilly in here.”

“Suit yourself.”

Reese snatched up her belongings, flung the door open, and sashayed down the hall, giving Maxwell a good look at her long legs and swaying hips.

Maxwell sat at the head of the conference table and tried to concentrate on what Glen Hargrove, his chief technician, was saying. But his thoughts kept shifting back to Reese, the way she looked, smelled, felt beneath his fingertips.

Without trying, Reese Delaware had somehow made him feel again. A sensation that he’d long ago denied himself—out of reach of any woman. Victoria had taught him an invaluable lesson, one that he would never forget. Sure there’d been plenty of women who’d kept him warm at night since her betrayal, but they’d only warmed his body, never his heart.

“…so what do you think we should do, Max?” Glen was asking.

Maxwell shifted his gaze in Glen’s direction. “Check the production tapes at the plant. Perhaps the tapes will show who’s screwing up. If that’s not it, then it’s temperature and air quality. You’ll have to get the bio team out there to check it out.”

Glen nodded and took quick notes. He wanted to chuckle. He and Max had worked together since college. He knew Max like a book. There was no way he was actually paying attention to what was being said—at least on the surface. Yet he was still able to answer his question without missing a beat.

“Why don’t you guys take a five-minute break,” Maxwell said, checking his watch. “When we reconvene we’ll be joined by a Ms. Delaware.” He cleared his throat. “She’s the journalist from Visions Magazine who’s been assigned to do a major article on the company. She may want to talk with some of you.”

A unified groan rose from the group of ten technicians. Maxwell knew that his team was single-focused when they walked through the doors of M.K. Enterprises. The slightest deviation from their routine and they became the surliest group of people on the face of the planet. He chuckled silently. Reese Delaware was certainly a deviation.

“Your cooperation is appreciated,” he continued. “See you in five.”

“So, what’s the deal with this Delaware woman? What’s she like?” Glen asked, sidling up next to Maxwell.

He shuffled through some notes on the table and shrugged. “She’s a journalist. And you know how I feel about them.” He clenched his jaw.

Glen looked at his friend from the corner of his eye. “How long is she going to be hanging around?”

Maxwell took a long breath and exhaled. “She’s been assigned to dog my tracks at all of our sites, interview me and anyone who knows me.”

Glen’s thick, brown eyebrows rose. “You agreed to that?”

Maxwell slanted his dark eyes toward Glen. “You know better than that. I got backed into a corner by the Board. They voted for it.”

“Hey listen, before you know it, it’ll be over and she’ll be out of your hair—ancient history.”

“Yeah, that’s the day I’m living for,” he joked, with a half smile.

“That’s a pretty interesting group you have there,” Reese commented as she and Maxwell left the conference room.

“They’re the best in the business,” he snapped, automatically taking her comment as a criticism. He picked up his pace. Her scent was getting to him. He couldn’t think clearly with her so close. She was getting to him. Just as she’d gotten to his crew. They were like putty in her hands. It was comical the way they practically fell over each other to get her attention. She wound them around her pretty little finger like rubber bands. The realization rattled him.

“I didn’t mean anything negative. I think they’re phenomenal. They’re all so young and brilliant. And obviously dedicated to you,” she added.

He heard the ring of sincerity in her voice and it startled him. He gave her a curious look. The idea that his staff was dedicated to anything other than doing a first-class job never entered his mind. He always attributed their zeal to the love of their work.

He frowned. “Your writer’s instinct must be off, Ms. Delaware,” he stated in dismissal. He opened the door of his office and stood aside to let her pass. She looked up at him as she eased by, her warm amber eyes skimming across his face like a stone over water.

A tiny chip from the wall crumbled and fell between them.

Reese and Maxwell spent every day together, practically glued at the hip. The staff of M.K. Enterprises seemed to welcome her as one of them. They more than answered her questions and many volunteered to be interviewed just to be in her company. Reese Delaware had the ability to charm everyone she met. Even him. She was the first face he saw when he arrived and the last one before he left at night. As much as he hated to admit it, he had begun to look forward to seeing her every day. He even grudgingly enjoyed her myriad of questions.

“This has been a very enlightening two weeks,” Reese said, stretching her long, lean body like a contented cat. “I’ve gotten a pretty good picture of who you are as the businessman through your staff and watching you interact with them.” She waited for a reaction and got none, so she went in for the dig. “It’s amazing how they can find so many decent things to say about you, Max.” She strutted back and forth across the room, one arm crossed beneath her breasts, the other hand twirling a loose tendril of hair. “That’s the most curious thing about this whole process,” she added airily. “I’m really looking forward to the trip on Sunday. I can’t wait to see what the California contingent has to say about the irreproachable Maxwell Knight.”

Maxwell didn’t look up from the paperwork strewn about his desk.

Slowly Reese crossed the room, bracing her palms on the desktop.

Still he refused to look up.

Feeling especially mischievous, she flicked a pencil across the desk, finally capturing his attention.

“What is it, Ms. Delaware?” he asked, his heart racing as their gazes connected.

Reese leaned closer, so close she could count the silken lashes rimming those incredible eyes. “I will not be ignored,” she parodied in a great Glenn Close imitation from the movie classic, Fatal Attraction.

Whatever resistance Maxwell had left came tumbling down. It started out as a chuckle, then slowly built in strength and volume to a full-fledged raucous laugh.

Reese, caught up in the moment, joined in with her own throaty laughter, enchanted by the sparkle in his eyes, the velvet timbre of his voice. She propped her hip on his desk.

“We needed that,” she said, catching her breath.

Maxwell nodded in agreement. “I think you’re right,” he chuckled.

“You have a wonderful laugh,” she uttered in a husky whisper. “You should do it more often.”

The metamorphosis was slow but clear. The light gradually dimmed in his dark eyes. Maxwell straightened up in his seat. “Carmen has your airline ticket. Don’t forget to pick it up before you leave.” He cleared his throat. “If you need a car to take you to the airport in the morning, please inform Carmen on your way out.” He returned his attention to the papers on his desk. But suddenly the words and diagrams were all a blur. The rational part of him wished she’d leave. The thoroughly male part of him wished she’d come closer.

Reese would not be dissuaded. “I haven’t seen anything of the city since I arrived,” she hedged. “Why don’t you be the gentleman I know you can be and take me out? Give me the twenty-five-cent tour before we leave for California.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You can be a gentleman, can’t you?” she taunted, bracing her hips with her fists in a defiant stance. “You have to eat, so why do it alone?”

“What makes you think I’ll be eating alone?”

Her mouth curved up in a grin. “Writer’s instinct?” Her cocked eyebrow punctuated her point.

Maxwell pushed away from his desk and stood up. “I think you need to sharpen up on your writer’s instinct, Ms. Delaware.” He paused then looked at her from beneath dark curly lashes. “But I wouldn’t want you to go back to Chicago believing all the negative things you’ve heard about New Yorkers.”

She watched him as he crossed the room and retrieved his jacket from the rack. A tiny tingle of anticipation rippled in her stomach. This is just the beginning, Mr. Knight, she mused. I’ll get on the other side of that wall no matter what it takes. And you’re gonna have a good time while I’m getting there.

Chapter 3

“Do you come here often?” Reese asked, taking a bite from a succulent piece of batter-dipped fried chicken.

“No. Actually, this is the first time. But I’ve heard a lot of the staff talk about Sylvia’s. They’ve always had good things to say about the food.”

“Believe me, it’s almost good enough to have me make the trip from Chicago.” She grinned. “The atmosphere is great. It’s so cozy and personal.”

“Hmm.”

Reese took a sip of her chardonnay. “Where do you go? I mean—when you go out…on a date?”

“Getting a bit personal, aren’t we?”

She gave him that slow, Mona Lisa smile that made his mouth water. “It’s after hours, Boss Man,” she teased. “Time to lighten up and ‘Let It Flow,’ as Toni Braxton would say.”

Maxwell flashed her a look as cool as the chinks of ice that floated in his glass. He leaned across the table, his voice descending to an intimate low. “Is that right, Ms. Delaware?”

A rush of heat surged through her body. Her heart began to race. She lifted the crystal flute to her lips. Her eyebrows arched. “Very right, Mr. Knight.”

“Will there be anything else, folks?” the waitress asked, successfully breaking their tenuous connection.

Maxwell’s steamy stare never left Reese’s face when he asked, “Would you like something else?”

“What I want I can’t get here,” she said, the seductive timbre of her voice winding its way through his heated bloodstream.

“No. Thank you. You can bring the check,” he finally responded off-handedly.

His dark, haunting eyes glided over her smooth features of milk chocolate, scorching her from the inside out. “Do you have any idea what you’re toying with?”

Slowly her tongue darted out and she licked her lips. “Why don’t you tell me.”

The corner of his mouth curled upward. “I’m not an easy man. I have no intention of building a relationship. I’m not looking for one, and I’m not interested in anyone that is. Still interested?”

“You only think you’re not interested.” She lifted the glass to her dampened lips and smiled. “Your problem is, you haven’t found the right woman.”

“And who might that woman be?”

“That’s for you to discover.”

Maxwell eased up out of his seat and came around behind Reese, helping her to her feet. Their bodies brushed. Maxwell inhaled from between clenched teeth when he felt the slight shiver run through her.

“When you play with fire, Ms. Delaware, you’re liable to get burned.”

She turned to face him and found herself breast to chest, belly to belly. To the casual observer, they appeared to be stepping into a mating dance, they were so close. Heat wafted around them.

“Let the games being,” she breathed on a husky laugh.

The ride back downtown from 128th Street in Harlem was conducted in a soothing silence, save for the smooth sounds of the local jazz station, pumping from the speakers of the gray Infiniti Q24.

Maxwell drove with the sunroof open, letting the cool summer’s night air lower his body temperature. From the corner of his eye, he looked at Reese. His large hands tightened around the wheel.

She was totally relaxed. Her head was arched slightly back against the headrest, exposing her long, chocolate neck. Her amber eyes were closed, giving her an illusion of innocence. He could almost laugh at that thought. A lot of things could be associated with Reese Delaware, but innocence was not one of them. She exuded a near lethal dose of sexuality every time she breathed. He couldn’t remember being so aware of a woman before.

He felt his resistance to her slowly peel away. But he couldn’t let that happen. Reese was interested in one thing and one thing alone—getting her story, and she’d do whatever was necessary to get it. Even sleep with him? The sudden thought rattled him. He’d been used enough to further people’s careers. He’d be damned if he’d be an easy mark again.

Maxwell turned away and poured all of his attention into getting her back to her hotel and out of his car. He continued down Seventh Avenue, tunneling all of his thoughts on the stop-and-go traffic. He was so absorbed that at first he believed the soft moans he heard were coming from the radio, until they rose to a strangled cry.

Checking traffic, he veered sharply to his right, and pulled over at the first available space. Reese was thrashing her head back and forth and moaning as if she were in extreme agony.

“Oh, dear God, make it stop,” she groaned. “Make it stop.”

“Reese.” His voice came to her like a gentle breeze in the midst of a storm. He reached out and touched her face. Her eyes flew open. Slowly she began to focus.

“It’s your head again, isn’t it?”

She could barely speak, but to nod in response would set off the jackhammers in her head again. “Yes. I…need to…take something…the pain. It’s in my room.”

“Shh. Don’t try to talk. We’ll be there in a few minutes. Just try to relax.”

Maxwell eased the car away from the curb and jetted into the flow of traffic at the first break. He maneuvered around cars, trucks, buses and yellow cabs, all the while uttering soothing words of comfort. His deep hypnotic voice acted as a balm to her throbbing head.

“As soon as I get you inside, we’ll take care of that pain. Breathe deeply in through your nose, and out through your mouth. The added pull of oxygen will help.” He glanced in her direction, pleased to see that she was following his instructions. “Do you swim?”

“As…often as I can,” she answered weakly, too exhausted to worry about where that question had come from.

“The Bahamas have some of the most beautiful beaches I’ve ever seen,” he said in a slow, melodic tone. “The water is crystal clear. You can almost see the bottom. The waves are so gentle, they’re like a warm caress.”

Reese succumbed to the melody of his voice, allowing her mind and body to become infused with the tranquil images he’d created.

Maxwell watched her slowly begin to relax. The tension lines between her brow began to ease just as they pulled up to the hotel.

Miraculously, Maxwell found a parking space and came around to help her out. He slipped his arm around her waist and she instinctively leaned into him, letting him bear her weight.

Before they’d taken two steps, Maxwell swept her up into his arms and pushed through the revolving door. Without protest, Reese curled against him, savoring the comfort of his strength, the power of his nearness. She rested her head on his shoulder.

For a mere second, Maxwell shut his eyes and inhaled the scent of her hair, experienced the fragile delicateness of her lush body. He grew hard with desire and desperately wanted to lean downward and kiss her pain away.

“Just a few more minutes,” he whispered in her ear. “Where is your room key?”

“In my purse.”

Without losing his balance or her, he slipped her purse from her shoulder and fished out her key. He tightened his hold on her and pressed the button for the elevator.

“Where’s your medication?” he asked as soon as they were inside the suite and he had her settled on the couch.

“It’s in the medicine…cabinet,” she stammered, shutting her eyes and leaning her head against the cushions of the couch.

Maxwell returned moments later with the medication and a concerned frown.

“Percodan. This is powerful stuff.” He looked down at her and she squinted up at him to bring him into focus. “How long have you been taking it?”

“I haven’t had to take anything but over-the-counter painkillers for the past three years. But the pain got so intense since I’ve been here, I had to call my doctor in Chicago to call in a prescription.”

Maxwell walked over to the lamp that sat on the end table near the couch and turned the light off. He crossed the room and turned on the stereo, reducing the volume to a mellow level. Stepping up behind her, he placed his thumbs at her temples and slowly applied a rotating pressure.

“Just close your eyes and relax,” he coaxed. “You don’t need that medicine,” he continued in a lulling voice. “We can get rid of your pain together.”

“But…”

“Shh. Trust me, Reese,” he whispered.

“That’s the second time you called me Reese tonight,” she whispered over the pain. “I’m wearing you down,” she added languidly.

Maxwell looked down into her exquisite face. He smiled.

“Magic fingers,” she hummed deep in her throat. “Magic.”

Reese awoke sometime after 1:00 a.m. to find herself alone in the semi-darkened suite with a quilt covering her. The faint aroma of Maxwell’s distinctive scent lingered in the air. A slow smile tugged at her mouth. As much as Max tried to be the tough, unapproachable ice man there was an innate gentleness about him that warmed her as no man had been able to do before. His elusiveness was an aphrodisiac, a challenge that she couldn’t resist. To hell with getting burned.

During the two weeks they’d spent together, she’d witnessed the gradual, if not grudging, change in him. But there was so much about him that she didn’t understand. What was it that made him so distant at times, so leery of reporters, so unwilling to show the human side of himself?

All of her instincts told her that Maxwell Knight had so much more to offer the right woman. And instinct also told her that she was that woman. Getting him to realize and accept that was going to be a lot tougher than getting her story. She stood, stretching her long body.

She’d never given up before, even when the doctors had given up on her. Even when she fought to overcome the nightmares, the loss of her family and her memory, she’d never given up.

She wanted Maxwell Knight. And she wouldn’t give up until she had him—totally.

Chapter 4

Religiously, every Saturday morning for the past fifteen years, Maxwell went to the dojo, either in the role of the Sahbamin—teacher—or to work out. His class of eight-year-olds were not due to arrive for two hours.

When he arrived, the only other person present was his best friend, Chris Lewis. He was glad to see his buddy, who’d just returned from a martial arts tournament. He needed to talk.

Maxwell stowed his small duffel bag in his locker and changed into his gui. Shortly, he joined Chris in the small room where they meditated before each session.

Chris and Maxwell bowed toward each other and silently took their places on the straw mats. The peaceful atmosphere of the dojo was what Maxwell needed. His spirit was in disarray. He couldn’t seem to focus or center his energy. And he’d been that way since Reese Delaware steamrolled into his life.

How was he going to be able to accomplish all that needed to be done in the next month when images of Reese haunted his every thought?

“You’re not here today, brother,” Chris said as they left the prayer room. “What’s up?”

Maxwell walked out onto the practice floor, trying to form the words to explain to his friend.

As graceful as a gazelle, Maxwell moved through his warm-up paces of Tai Kwon Do, the only martial art accepted in Olympic competition. The intricate combinations of kicks and punches were a marvel to watch and difficult to master.

“Remember I told you about the Board’s decision to allow a full-fledged article to be written about me and the company?”

“Yeah, I remember, and I had to listen to you bitch and moan about it for weeks.” He chuckled. “So…what happened?”

Maxwell took a deep breath and on the exhale lashed out his right leg, cutting sharply through the air. He glanced briefly at Chris from the corner of his eye. “She’s here.”

Chris’s eyes widened. “She?”

A quirky smile played around the corners of Maxwell’s mouth. “Yeah, she.”

“Well don’t stop there. I take it she’s the reason why you’re performing like an amateur instead of a master teacher,” he said, observing Maxwell’s uncharacteristically choppy moves.

Maxwell dropped his hands to his sides and unclenched his fists. He crossed the huge room and took a seat on the wooden bench. Chris joined him.

“She…she has my head all messed up,” Maxwell confessed, avoiding Chris’s questioning looks. He braced his forearms on his muscled thighs and leaned forward.

“She must really be something if she can raise your blood pressure. I’ve never known you to give a woman any more of your time than was absolutely necessary,” he chuckled.

Maxwell laughed, then slowly sobered. “She’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before,” he said, a slight frown creasing his brow. “Every time I’m round her my hormones go on a rampage.”

“Sounds like you need to just get it on and get it out of your system,” Chris hedged, trying to goad his brother-friend into confessing what was really bothering him.

“It’s not about sex, man. I mean, that’s part of it,” he added, feeling the throb of excitement just thinking about the possibilities. “But it’s more than that.” He shook his head in confusion, trying to find the words. “There’s this…connection that I feel when I’m with her. She’s exciting, intelligent, fun. She has this way of making me take a real look at myself. She’s not afraid to challenge me.”

“She sounds like a powerful lady.” He patted Maxwell on the back. “Just the medicine you need, my brother. So what’s the problem?”

“The same problem I always have. I just can’t let go. How do I know if she’s really interested in me, or just wants my story?”

“You won’t until you put yourself out there and find out. Listen, I know you’ve been burned—bad. Victoria Davenport was a first-class bitch. I know that your Moms and Pops left a lot to be desired as parents. But there comes a time when you have to dust yourself off and try again.”

Maxwell stood up. “Easier said than done.”

“Give her a chance, man. Forget the fact that she’s a reporter. And go with what you feel.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Chris rose and joined his friend in the center of the floor. “That’s your problem, my brother. You think too much.” Maxwell laughed.

“So, what’s this wonder woman’s name?”

“Reese,” he said wistfully. “Reese Delaware.”

Reese sat curled up on the couch, all traces of her headache from the previous night completely gone. She sipped a cup of herbal tea, while keying in the beginnings of her article on her laptop.

Maxwell Knight was definitely the most intriguing man she’d ever met. There were so many layers to his personality, but for some reason, he only chose to display one. She put the portable computer aside and got up. Crossing the small living area, she went to the window.

She wrapped her arms around her waist and sighed. Max was a man with a past, a part of him that he wished to keep hidden from the world. In that respect, they were totally dissimilar. For the past fifteen years, she’d tried desperately to remove the veil that shrouded her life, and had failed.

She turned away from the New York skyline. She was getting too close to this story. She was losing her objectivity. That was totally unlike her.

That was probably the reason for the sudden return of the headaches and the nightmares. She was becoming too involved with her subject.

She couldn’t let that happen. This assignment was the chance of a lifetime—an opportunity that every journalist salivates for.

Reese smiled in resignation. Unfortunately, it was too late. What she was beginning to feel for Maxwell Knight had absolutely nothing to do with her job. But everything to do with her being a woman who wanted a man as much as she wanted to breathe.

The ringing phone pulled her rudely away from her reverie.

“Hello?”

“Good morning. I was calling to see how you were feeling.”

The pulse began to pound in her ears, and the little butterflies went berserk in her tummy.

“I’m feeling fabulous, Max. Thanks to you.”

“Did you sleep well?”

Not as well as I could have if you’d stayed, she wanted to say. “Very well. And you?”

“Let’s bypass the small talk,” he said suddenly, needing to take the plunge. “Are you dressed?”

“For what?” she teased, and his thoughts went out of order.

“For company. I want to come—over,” he uttered, his comment full of innuendo. “Then I thought I’d take you around the city before we leave in the morning.”

Her spirits soared. She was grinning so hard her jaw began to ache. “I’ll be here,” she said, her voice full of invitation.

“And I’ll be there, shortly.”

“Where are we going?” Reese questioned, settling herself in the car.

“For the twenty-five-cent tour, of course.”

She laughed. “Very funny. But seriously, where?”

“That’s what’s wrong with all you reporter types,” he teased, “just can’t be satisfied without knowing every single detail.” He pushed out a prolonged sigh. “If you must know, I thought I’d take you to the Top of the Sixes for lunch. Then down to Soho. There’s an art gallery opening that I wanted to see.” He turned to look at her. “I hope you like art,” he stated more than asked.

“Let’s put it this way, I know what I like when I see it. That’s the extent of my knowledge of art.” She chuckled.

He smiled when he realized he’d discovered a new level of admiration for her honesty.

“I can guarantee that you’ll love this guy’s work.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

For several moments they rode in companionable silence, until Reese spoke.

“What changed your mind?” she asked softly.

“About what?” he hedged.

“About me. What earth-shattering event made you want to spend your Saturday with me, the woman you love to hate?”

“I think your instincts are off again.”

“You mean you don’t hate me?” she taunted.

He slanted her a look. “It’s not you.” He paused to gauge his words. “It’s what you represent.”

Reese digested what he’d said. “What is it that you have against journalists?” she asked, struggling to maintain a lid on her temper.

His jaw clenched. “They tend not to have any conscience, for starters.” The pain of remembrance laced his heavy voice, making it vibrate with emotion. “They have no qualms about intruding on a person’s life and turning it upside down.”

“I see. And you feel I’m no different from the nefarious ‘they,’” she tossed out, fighting to disguise her hurt behind a wall of anger.

“Are you? Aren’t you here to get ‘your story’ no matter what it takes?”

“Yes I’m here to get a story Max, because it’s my job. Just because you’ve had a bad experience with reporters doesn’t give you the right to paint me with the same black brush.”

Maxwell spun the wheel, turning the car on two wheels, causing traffic to swerve around them. The high-pitched squealing sound of the tires reminded Reese of pigs being led to the slaughterhouse. He jerked the car to a screeching halt.

He turned on her, his dark eyes blazing. “The right!” he boomed, his heavy voice reverberating in the small space. “I have every right. This is my life we’re talking about, and you want a piece of it. Just like all the others. What makes you any different?”

Her sense of injustice made her want to fight back, to tell him what a bull-headed, stubborn fool he was being. But instinct told her that Max’s outrage went much deeper. She reached out and touched his arm. “What happened to you, Max?” she asked so gently the words wrapped around his battered heart and cushioned it.

He looked down at the hand that held him, so long and slender. His gaze trailed up her arm to rest on her face and at eyes that beheld him with such compassion he was stunned by the impact. His eyes swam over her face, heating her.

Her grip tightened and he felt her warmth slowly spread through him.

He leaned closer. She held her breath, longing for what she knew was to come.

Maxwell reached out and stroked her face. His thumb traced the outline of her full, rich mouth. Her eyes slid shut as a tremor of delight tripped through her.

“Reese,” he exhaled on a hot breath. Her eyes slowly opened and met his uncertain gaze.

“Don’t be afraid,” she uttered in a husky whisper. She closed the space between them. Her free hand reached out and ran across his hair of onyx silk. She caressed the smooth bronze jaw, the eyes of ebony that curved upward in invitation.

He turned his head to kiss her palm, then the tender inside of her wrist.

His kisses were hot, searing her, teasing her, sailing up her arm—short-circuiting her heart. She longed to pull him into her arms, to have him bury what had hurt him deep within her warmth. But she understood that for it to be right, it had to come from him. She would wait, even as her body trembled with a need that defied explanation.

Maxwell eased back, still holding her hand in his. Reese’s eyes implored him to let go.

There was so much he wanted to say—needed to say. A part of him longed to share his deepest thoughts with this woman—share a part of himself with her—but he couldn’t. Not anymore.

All he needed a woman for was to ease his physical needs. That’s where his connection with them began and ended, he reminded himself. He would not allow Reese Delaware to change that fact.

“We’d better get going.” He spoke so calmly, a casual listener wouldn’t have the slightest clue as to what had almost transpired.

Reese, who gave just as good as she got, smiled her slow easy smile and said, “You’re right. I was wondering why we stopped.” If he wanted to act as if nothing happened, then as far as she was concerned nothing did, she fumed.

Maxwell checked his signals and pulled out into traffic. He forced his thoughts to clear. This was a mistake. He should have never offered to take her out. From today until the minute she left, he’d keep things between them strictly professional. It was obvious that she didn’t give a damn one way or the other which way things went with them. Good. The hell with her. It was a damned good thing that Carmen would be traveling with them. At least he could palm Reese off on Carmen and not have to be bothered.

“Thank you for a wonderful day,” Reese said brightly as they pulled up in front of the hotel. Even though Max had been relatively quiet for the better part of the day, she did enjoy herself. He’d been the perfect gentleman and they’d shared a few good laughs and created some wonderful memories. She swallowed. Her heart was beating so fast she thought it would explode. She wanted him to come upstairs, but she knew he wouldn’t.

“A car will be here to pick you up at 9:00 a.m. We have a ten o’clock flight,” he said, sidestepping her comment. As much as he was reluctant to admit it, he’d enjoyed every minute of their day together.

“I know.” Reese leaned over the seat to retrieve her purse from the back. “It was so generous of you to get me a first-class ticket,” she added, missing the look of stunned disbelief that momentarily carved his face into a mask of incredulity. She turned briefly toward him. “Well, good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He pressed a button on the driver’s-side panel and released the lock. “Good night.” His tone was as tense as he felt. He kept his gaze straight ahead, knowing that if he looked at her now, the night would be long from over.

Reese rolled her eyes in annoyance. Without another word, she alighted from the car, and pushing through the revolving doors, disappeared among the guests in the ornate lobby of the Hilton, never once looking back.

Maxwell roared off from the spot on the Avenue of the Americas. One of these days, he was actually going to strangle Carmen.

Maxwell tossed and turned in his sleep the entire night. Visions of Reese nestled in his arms tormented him with longing. How in the world would he be able to get through the next few weeks when his feelings for her were spiraling out of control?

He wished that he had it in him to let go. But after Victoria, he’d promised himself he’d never allow his heart to guide him again. Victoria Davenport was the first woman he’d begun to open himself up to, and even now, two years later, the pain of her betrayal could still flare raw and ragged.

When he’d first met Victoria at an engineering conference in Washington, D.C., he was instantly captivated. She was the fascinating combination of beauty and brains. What enchanted him the most was that she was the first woman who didn’t trip all over herself trying to get his attention.

Finally, unable to stand her pointed rebuff a moment longer, he’d maneuvered his way around the throngs of people in the dining hall and introduced himself.

“Can I refresh your drink, Ms….?” Maxwell asked, easing up next to her.

Victoria turned cool, green eyes on him. “Don’t tell me you came from clear across the room just to get me a drink?” she taunted, her smile a sweet invitation. “I truly thought chivalry was dead,” she added, her soft Southern drawl like music to his ears.

He leaned against the bar. His eyes rolled up and down her slender frame. “Let me guess. You’ve been watching me just as hard as I’ve been watching you.”

Her finely arched brows rose in feigned surprise. “What would make you think that?” She tried to sound indignant, but failed.

“How else would you know that I was way on the other side of the room?”

Victoria tossed back her head and laughed outright, her strawberry blond tresses skimming her bare shoulders. “Just for that, I’m going to tell you my name, you’re going to tell me yours, and we’re going to get to know each other. There’s nothing I like better than a man who speaks his mind.”

Maxwell joined in her laughter, enchanted by its musical quality. And they did get to know each other. They had tons of things in common both being computer engineers, she for the government and he in private practice.

For the next eighteen months, Maxwell made his home between D.C., where Victoria lived, and New York. During those months, Maxwell quickly learned that Victoria was the type of woman who lived on the edge, challenging everything and everyone. Her looks gave her entrée into the black world as easily as the white, and she played whatever role suited her at the moment.

“I was fortunate to be born with a choice,” Victoria said to him one night after making love.

“We all have choices,” Maxwell said, folding his hands beneath his head and staring up at the stuccoed ceiling.

She smiled, the kind of sly smile that compels you to want to know more.

“When I’m with you, I can let down my hair and go back to my roots. When I’m outside of ‘our little circle’ of friends and associates, I cross the line to my other world.”

For several moments, Maxwell simply stared at her, too flabbergasted to speak.

“Don’t look so shocked, darling. How many times in your life have you wished—prayed—that you could cross over into the Japanese world and be accepted, and at your whim return to the black world and not miss a beat? The only difference between you and me, is that I can.”

The truth of her statement slammed him in the gut. For all of his thirty years, he had been on the fence of life, so to speak, trying to discover where he fit. Listening to her now, brought to bear his reality.

On all of the forms and applications he’d ever had to fill out, he always checked “other.” Other what? he’d always wanted to know. Yet he’d learned to live with it, at least on the surface.

What he couldn’t accept was Victoria’s cavalier attitude about her ethnicity. With effort, he managed to put her indiscretion aside. He convinced himself that he was falling in love with her, that what she did when she wasn’t with him didn’t affect him. That was the beginning.

It was several months after that revelation that they’d had a terrible argument. Maxwell was miserable without her. He’d decided to drive down to D.C. for the weekend and surprise her. That was the end.

He knew she always worked late on Friday, so he’d planned to beat her to the apartment and have dinner waiting—his way of making things up to her and telling her how sorry he was.

When he arrived at the apartment they shared, he thought he was alone until he heard noises coming from the back. Surprised, Maxwell put down his packages and headed for the back bedroom.

“Vicki, I didn’t expect you…” He pushed open the bedroom door, and for a split second he couldn’t focus. Victoria in all of her peaches-and-cream splendor was astride her boss, her head tossed back as the throes of climax gripped them both. Neither of them heard him enter or leave. They never spoke to or saw each other again.

The question that always nagged at him was: what role was she playing that afternoon with her white lover? And why had she chosen Max? What role had he played in the eighteen months of their relationship? He was soon to find out, when the Washington Post ran the story about Victoria Davenport and the innovative new computer program she’d developed that gave PC users unlimited access to the Internet—and enhanced processing speed—the very same program he’d been working on for months. When the press got wind of their relationship, they made his life pure hell for months.

His breakup with Victoria reconfirmed his mistrust, rekindled his belief that no one was as they appeared, and the shell around him had grown tight once again.

Until Reese.

Chapter 5

Reese was bone tired when her aunt Celeste phoned her at 7:00 a.m. Her night had been haunted by those faceless phantoms that had plagued her life for the past fifteen years.

Had she had these dreams—these nightmares—before that time? she wondered, letting the cool water sluice across her body. If she had, she couldn’t remember. Just as she could remember nothing prior to that fateful day when her life was irrevocably changed.

Shadows, images, screeching tires and screams were all that she could recall. But something had led to it. Something or someone that she could not remember. And all of the hypnosis, therapy, and drugs had not brought her memory back. The first fifteen years of her life were nothing more than a black abyss.

Wrapping the thick, standard white hotel towel around her dripping milk-chocolate body, she thought about how guilty she had felt for so many years. Guilty that she’d survived, and could not remember anything about her mother or father, who had perished.

And whenever her guilt began to ebb, aunt Celeste would find a way to resurrect it, making her feel that she’d betrayed her family because she could not remember them, as she had moments ago.

Reese had assumed the early-morning phone call was her hotel wake-up call. Her heart thundered with trepidation when she heard her aunt’s voice reach out to her across the wires.

“Aunt Celeste, how are you?”

“I’m fine,” she answered in a tight voice. “But how would you know that, you don’t remember to call.”

Reese squeezed her eyes shut and took a long, calming breath.

“Aunt Celeste, I called you before I left Chicago. I gave you the number of the hotel here in New York.”

“That was nearly two weeks ago,” she accused. “I’m your only living relative. I’d think you’d treat me with more regard.”

“Aunt Celeste, please,” she whispered, feeling again like the lost, confused child she’d been for so many years. “Not today. I’m trying to get ready for my trip to Los Angeles.”

“Humph. What you need to do is settle down and find yourself a husband—start a family instead of traipsing across the country digging into other people’s lives when you can only claim half of your own!”

Reese felt the pain of her words as strongly as if she’d been smacked. “You still blame me. After all these years, you still blame me, as if my lack of memory is somehow responsible for everything and intended to hurt you. Well I can’t help that I survived, Aunt Celeste. I’m me, Reese Delaware—or at least what there is of me. And I won’t apologize for my existence anymore.”

“Reese!”

“Goodbye, Aunt Celeste. I’ll call you when I reach Los Angeles.” She hung up the phone before her aunt could respond.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Reese shielded her face with her hands, the weight of her pain seeping through her fingers to trickle down her cheeks.

“Why can’t I remember?” she cried. “Why?”

“Victoria, you have a call on line one,” the engineer who sat to her left said, tapping Victoria gently on the shoulder.

Victoria turned toward Cliff and nodded her thanks. Removing her headset, she took one quick look at the lighted board in front of her, sparkling with colored lights that detailed the circuitry she was working on. Satisfied for the moment, she pushed away from the digital panel.

At the young age of twenty-eight she was head of the engineering division for the Air Force, an unprecedented position. It was her sole responsibility to oversee every aspect of computer assembly and sign off on everything that left her department.

She’d worked damned hard to get to where she was. She’d done some things that made her skin crawl, but she’d survived. Her only regret was losing Max. She’d tried for months to get him to talk to her, but he’d refused. Eventually she’d given up and began to pick up the pieces of her life and move on. But she’d never forgotten the one man who’d almost made her do the right thing.

She depressed the flashing red button on the console. “Davenport,” she said curtly, eager to get back to her design.

“Vicky, dear, I’m so sorry to bother you at work, but I had the most awful conversation with that witch, Reese.”

Victoria twisted her mouth in annoyance. The last person she wanted to hear about was her half sister, Reese Delaware.

“What happened now, Aunt Celeste?”

Victoria returned to her desk. Breathing hard, she just stared at the electronic board.

“Vic, are you alright?” Cliff asked, snatching off his headset. “You look pale.”

Victoria shook her head. “No. I mean, yes—I’m fine. But I think I’ll take the rest of the day off. Something came up.” Quickly she shut down her sector, collected her belongings, and rushed out of the lab.

Driving more by instinct than from paying attention, Victoria took the Fourteenth Street Bridge out of D.C. into the suburbs to Arlington, Virginia.

“Dammit!” she railed, slamming her palms against the steering wheel. What were the chances of your ex-lover and a sister you’ve never met getting together? The irony of the situation was not lost on her. Reese had always wound up with everything—the family, the home, the security. She, on the other hand, was the big family secret. And now Reese would be spending the next six weeks with Max. Would she wind up with him, too?

An hour later Reese was still reeling from the conversation with her aunt when the phone rang again. With great reluctance, she answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey, girl, it’s Lynnette.”

Reese’s smile lit up the room. A call from her homegirl was just the medicine she needed. She felt as if a weight had been lifted off of her chest.

“Lynnette, you couldn’t have called at a better time.”

“Sounds like you’ve been talking to the wicked witch of the east again,” Lynnette teased.

Reese laughed out loud at the vision. However, her aunt could be more closely pegged as Glenda from the North. Celeste Winston was, on the surface, a stunning woman of fifty-two. Her exquisite peaches-and-cream face was smooth and unlined, haloed by sparkling auburn hair. She was in excellent shape, went to the hairdresser once per week, and spent her well-earned money as a private-duty nurse for the Air Force, on designer clothes. On the surface, Celeste had it all, but underneath she was a lonely, bitter woman who’d never married. And she seemed to take pleasure in venting her frustrations on the niece she’d been forced to raise.

“On target as usual. But I don’t want to talk about her. There’s not enough time in the world. What’s happening at the magazine?”

“Hart is still busting my chops and as pig-headed as ever. I’m working my tail off as usual.”

They both laughed. “But what I want to know is what’s up with you? How is Mr. Wonderful Mystery Man up close and personal?”

“He’s all that and more,” Reese admitted on a wistful note.

“Mmm, sounds serious. Talk to me.”

Reese sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. She crossed her bare legs at the knee. “At first I was all about getting the story of my career, no matter what I had to do to get it. Literally. When we first met, I went into my bag and pulled out all of my tricks.” She chuckled mirthlessly and shook her head. “But the more I’m with him, the more I want to be with him. It’s no longer just the story I want, Lynn. It’s him. And I know I’m really stretching the lines of ethics, but girl, I can’t help myself. When we’re together rockets go off. It’s so intense, sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe.”

“Wow—!” Lynnette exhaled. “He must be something. In the ten years that I’ve known you, you’ve never talked about a man like this. What are you going to do about it? And secondly, how in the world are you going to stay objective if you have to keep changing your panties whenever he’s in the same air space?”

They both burst into another fit of raucous laughter visualizing Lynnette’s ribald analogy.

“Girl, you are too crazy,” Reese uttered, choking down the last of her chuckles.

“That’s why we’ve been friends for so long. You’re the sultry, sexy one who winds their way under a man’s skin. I, on the other hand, just jump right in and say what’s on my mind. Consequences be damned!”

“You’re right about that one,” she said.

Reese and Lynnette had met while undergrads at Howard University during a speech communication seminar. They clicked almost immediately and were roommates for the balance of their stay at Howard. After graduation, they both decided to take the plunge and move to Chicago. With their backgrounds and personal savvy, they both landed jobs almost immediately. Although Lynnette worked for Visions as a full-time staff writer, Reese preferred to freelance for a variety of newspapers and magazines. It didn’t allow for a stable financial existence, but it gave her the opportunity to come and go as she pleased. Plus, she never got stuck having to write stories she had no interest in. She picked what she wanted.

“What time is your flight?” Lynnette asked, cutting into Reese’s musings.

Reese yawned and checked the clock. “A car should be picking me up in about twenty minutes. Our flight leaves at ten o’clock.”

“How long are you going to be on the coast? I have some vacation days due to me. I might be able to pop out there and maybe I can squeeze in an interview with Quincy if I plan it right.”

Reese let out a whoop of delight. “That would be fabulous. We’re scheduled to be out there for about two weeks. Then it’s on to Tokyo. Oh please come. I could use a friend,” she pleaded in her best little girl voice.

“Ooh, girl, you know I hate it when you whine,” she joked.

“So you’ll come?”

“Of course. Any excuse to get out of the windy city. I’ll get myself together and work out the details with Hart and I’ll be there. Give me all of your hotel information.”

Reese quickly rattled off her hotel name, along with her flight information. “I’ll call you tonight once I get settled, and you can tell me if you were able to work things out.”

“You know I’ll be able to work things out. I have no intention of taking maybe for an answer. As a matter of fact, I’m packing as we speak.”

“Can’t wait,” Reese said. “But listen, I’ve got to run. The last thing I need at the moment is to be late for my ride.”

“No problem. I’ll talk with you tonight. Have a safe trip.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

Reese hurried around the suite checking that she hadn’t forgotten anything. She breezed by the bedroom mirror then back peddled and stopped. She gazed at her reflection and smiled, once again filled with her old self-confidence. In her throaty alto voice, she belted out the last line of the R&B classic “And I’m Telling You,” by Jennifer Holiday. “I don’t wanna be fre-e-e. I’m stay—in’ and you’re gonna love me! Yeah.” She winked and hurried out of the suite.

When she reached the lobby, she was pleasantly surprised to see Carmen waiting.

“Carmen,” she greeted, giving the older woman a quick peck on the cheek. “I didn’t expect to see you. I thought you were just sending a car.”

“The car is waiting. I just thought it would be nice if we rode together to the airport.”

“I think so, too,” Reese said with a smile, threading her arm through Carmen’s. “What about Max—I mean, Mr. Knight?”

“He always drives his own car to the airport.” She pushed through the revolving door and out into the balmy morning. “He hates being at the mercy of someone else,” she tossed over her shoulder with a wink and a smile.

The double entendre was not lost on Reese.

He knew he was early and that there was plenty of time before boarding. That wasn’t the point. Maxwell paced the waiting area, checking his watch every few minutes. He was edgy. His nerves felt like they were about to snap. The lack of sleep, haunted by dreams of Reese, compounded by the unexpected phone call from Victoria Davenport, had him ready to crush the first person who crossed him.

After nearly two years of complete silence, she calls out of the blue. Why? And why now? She said she’d been thinking about him a lot lately and had been too afraid to contact him for fear of rejection again. She’d said she’d heard through the grapevine about the chip development and she wanted to congratulate him. She, too, was planning on being in Los Angeles within the week, and wondered if he would be in town. If so maybe they could get together—just for a drink—for old time’s sake.

Maxwell frowned and checked his watch again, retracing his path across the sparkling tile floor. Victoria, he’d learned the hard way, was not a woman who did anything without a damned good reason. If she wanted to see him again, she had one, and he was pretty certain her reason had nothing to do with congratulations or unrequited love.

He checked his watch, then compared it to the huge clock that hung above the reservationist’s station. “Where is she?” he fumed between clenched teeth.

“Looking for someone?” Reese asked, easing up behind him to practically whisper in his ear.

He spun around and when his eyes landed on her smiling face, his stomach coiled into a knot of need. “Where in the devil have you been?” he growled in greeting. “Or don’t you realize we have a flight to catch?” He turned away and strode toward the departure gate.

“This trip is going to be longer than I thought,” she muttered to Carmen, who hid a smile behind her hand. Both women followed in comical military fashion behind the unsuspecting Maxwell Knight.

Maxwell’s morning for stress was anything but over. Carmen had purposely seated them together. His intention was to sleep on the flight. But the heavenly scent of Reese’s body oil invaded his senses, her every movement sent waves of longing zinging through his veins.

“Max…”

“Reese…”

They both looked at each other, speaking in unison.

Maxwell’s stern countenance wavered and he smiled. “You first.”

Reese took a breath, briefly looked down at her hands and then into the depth of his magnificent ebony eyes. “I don’t want to intrude on your life, Max. I want you to know that. And I don’t want you to think that I don’t have a conscience. Over the next few weeks, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together. I’m going to be asking you questions you’re not going to want to answer. But we can get past all of that.” Her eyes raced across the flawless honey-dipped face. “There’s something much more than just interviewer-interviewee going on between us.” Her husky voice lowered until it felt like a pulse beating in his body. “If I’m wrong, I want you to tell me—now.”

Interminable minutes seemed to tick away before he spoke.

“I wish I could tell you how wrong you are—that your instincts are off.” His large hand reached out and stroked the worry from her forehead. He clenched his jaw, the war of doubt still putting up a good fight. “But I can’t,” he finally said.

Reese let out a long-held shaky breath. She pressed her lips together and clasped his hand within hers. “I swear to you, Max, you won’t regret it,” she whispered.

He grinned like a young boy. “That remains to be seen, Ms. Delaware. But with Carmen behind the scenes orchestrating things, I never stood a chance.”

She looked at him with wide-eyed innocence. “Carmen?”

“You must have guessed by now that Carmen thinks she’s my mother. And as my mother, she must tend to my happiness—whatever she decides that may be.” He chuckled. “I’m quite sure she made certain me and you would be sitting together on this flight, while she sat back there,” he added, hitching his thumb over his left shoulder.

Reese twisted in her seat and looked over the heads behind her. She spotted Carmen peeking at her from above the top of a magazine. Reese grinned and Carmen gave her a thumbs-up sign.

“Has Carmen always had a penchant for organizing your personal life?” Reese questioned, settling down into her seat.

“She tries damned hard.” He chortled. “Most of the time she’s right.”

“Do you generally take her advice?”

For a brief moment a dark shadow seemed to pass across his features. Carmen had warned him about Victoria early in their relationship. He hadn’t listened. “For the most part.”

Reese quickly sensed that there was more to the clipped statement, but would not press the point. There were so many things about Maxwell Knight that she wanted to discover, but her writer’s instinct and her female intuition reminded her it would be a very difficult road indeed.

James Knight climbed the stairs to the attic of his two-story home. After receiving a large cash compensation from the military during his service, he’d had the house built. It was the house he’d tried to raise his son, Max, in. Instead, it was the house that he’d watched his life and his marriage crumble in. Beautiful on the outside with a wide front enclosed porch reminiscent of the plantations of the south, whitewashed with tall stately pillars and a perfectly manicured front and back lawn.

His wife, Claudia, had spent innumerable hours finding just the right fabric, piece of furniture, work of art. The house on Pinecroft Court was a palace, but it was never a home. She’d tried—Lord knows she’d tried, but there was always a shadow that hovered between them. It was there waiting for him when he’d returned from Japan.

Pushing open the attic door, he pulled a key from his pants pocket, crossed the small crawl space, and used the key to open an old footlocker.

From within he pulled out a gray metal box filled with yellowed paper, photographs, and signed documents.

James’s warm brown eyes clouded over. For more than fifteen years, what had been done had remained sealed away in his attic and in the “eyes only” files of the military.

But governments change. Policy and administrations change. His son was being interviewed by one of the most renowned publications in the country. Everything would slowly begin to unravel. He knew it as sure as he knew it would rain by the aches in his knees.

He pulled out a faded picture of a beautiful young geisha, Sukihara—Suki, whom he’d loved like no other. How different would his life have been if he’d remained in Tokyo…?

Tokyo, April 1960

The month of April is one of the busiest times in the geisha quarters. In the evenings, the teahouses and restaurants where the geishas—or artistic persons—entertain, are crowded with guests from surrounding cities who have journeyed to Tokyo for the cherry blossoms and the geisha dance festival.

It was late one April evening when James and his army buddy Larry Templeton, who’d been stationed in Tokyo for two months, decided to venture out and see what all the mystery was surrounding the geishas. Since being stationed in Tokyo, they had seen no more than their barracks and their immediate area. They felt totally isolated. Not only was there the language and cultural barriers to deal with, they were the only two black men they’d seen since their arrival. They started off with two strikes against them; they were the American military in a foreign country and they were black—the lowest men on the totem pole no matter where they went.

“Whaddaya want to do tonight?” Larry asked, lacing up his regulation boots.

James chuckled in his deep robust voice. “How many choices do we have, man? It’s not like we’re the most welcomed folks in town.”

“I guess you’re right. But it’s Friday. We have the whole weekend off. There ought to be something.”

James shrugged his wide shoulders. His dark brown eyes slowly lit up. “How about checking out one of those teahouses I’ve always heard about?”

“Hey, why not? How do we get there?”

James sat down on the edge of his single bed and pulled out a slim map from the drawer.

“From what I’ve been hearing the really good ones are in Kyoto.” He unfolded the map and spread it out on the bed. Both young men hovered over the finely drawn lines. James stuck out his index finger and traced a path.

“It’s a good half-hour drive,” Larry said, straightening up.

“You have something better to do?”

“Very funny. Let’s go while the night is still young.”

They drove for nearly an hour.

“You sure you know where you’re going?” Larry taunted.

“It can’t be too much farther. As a matter of fact, good buddy, there’s the Kamo River now. I do believe we have arrived.” James grinned and pointed to the elaborate structure that was pinpointed by brightly lit lanterns, the only illumination for miles around—giving the entire scene a picture postcard feel.

“Hot damn,” Larry exclaimed. “I’m finally gonna meet me a real-life geisha. Wait till I tell the boys back home.” He slapped his thigh and hopped out of the jeep.

When James and Larry entered the teahouse, it was like nothing they’d anticipated. Although they received cold or indifferent looks from the Japanese and white men who were ensconced in various locations of the establishment, it was the role of the geisha to welcome and entertain every man who crossed the threshold. And they did—from singing and dancing to pouring their sake.

All of the preconceived notions about geishas being no more than high-priced prostitutes were soon erased. These were pampered, talented, beautiful, sexy women, who because of the Japanese culture, were a necessary way of life. Wives, on the other hand, were subdued, obedient, and anything but sexy. They were everything that a geisha was not.

James slowly relaxed and began to truly enjoy the performances and the pampering, but his breath stopped in his chest when a young, beautiful girl, dressed in an elaborate costume of brilliant red and gold, took center stage. Her name was Sukihara, the petite, exotic nymph who’d changed his life.

Far off, James heard the ringing of the phone. With reluctance be returned the photos to the box and placed the box back in the footlocker.

Quickly he ran down the short flight of steps and answered the phone that sat in the foyer of the top floor.

Returning from her part-time job at the local library, and unaware that her husband was at home, Claudia picked up the extension on the ground floor. When she heard her husband’s voice she intended to hang up until she heard the voice of the caller.

“Hello?”

“Colonel Knight?”

“Yes, speaking.”

“This is Major General Murphy at Chevy Chase Air Force Base.”

James’s heart began to race with dread. He’d been expecting this call and hating its inevitability.

“What can I do for you, sir?”

“We’ve arranged to have a car pick you up at your home tomorrow morning at 0800 hours.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I hope this won’t pose a problem for you.”

“No, sir. Of course not.”

“Good. See you then, Colonel.” He broke the connection.

James Knight had spent forty years of his life in the Special Forces unit of the Air Force. Taking orders without question was second nature. Slowly he replaced the receiver. Taking orders was the reason his life had never been his own, the reason that haunted him every day of his life for the past fifteen years—the reason why his son must never discover what those orders had commanded him to do.

Claudia clutched the phone to her breasts and squeezed her eyes shut. When would they ever leave them alone? For fifteen years, they’d lived under the thumb of that demon from hell—Murphy. They’d never let James live in peace even after all that he’d done in their name. The military had stolen his spirit and Sukihara had stolen his heart.

Chapter 6

“After we check into the hotel, I need to head over to the office,” Maxwell announced, as they moved through Los Angeles International Airport.

Reese and Carmen doubled their steps to keep up with his brisk, long-legged strides.

“I’ll be going with you,” Reese stated. “So I’ll need a few minutes to freshen up.”

Maxwell looked at her over his shoulder. He wanted to say that she looked fabulous just the way she was. Her raven mane was twisted into a fuss-free French roll, and her statuesque form was coated in a teal suit of micro-silk with a skirt that hit her just above those gorgeous knees. His eyes snaked down to those luscious legs that were shadowed by a sheer pair of black hose. Briefly he wondered if she wore pantyhose or real stockings with garter belts. In any event, there was no way she looked like she’d been on a plane for six hours.

“If you think it’s necessary—to freshen up,” he qualified. “But I don’t have time to wait around all afternoon.”

Reese and Carmen exchanged glances. “I’ll be sure not to keep you waiting—too long,” Reese coed sweetly.

Once inside her hotel room, Reese was suitably impressed. This room outdid the Hilton by light years. The living area looked out onto rows of swaying palms and gentle breezes. The thick ecru carpet was so deep it tickled her ankles when she walked. She crossed the room and twisted the gold knob of the door.

Her breath caught in her throat. A huge canopy bed of eggshell white demanded her immediate attention. Along the canopy’s posters, white diaphanous fabric was dramatically draped. She smiled. Maxwell Knight certainly knew how to do things with panache.

Reese quickly tucked her suitcase and garment bag in the walk-in closet. She’d unpack later. She unzipped her garment bag and retrieved a pale peach suit of clinging rayon and silk. From another zippered compartment she took out a matching pair of low-heeled sandals. In record time, she’d changed clothes, repaired her minimal makeup, and tucked in some stray strands of hair.

Satisfied with her transformation, she grabbed her purse and briefcase and headed out of the suite. As soon as she stepped off of the elevator, she spotted the unmistakable figure of Maxwell pacing among the lobby crowd. For a moment, a rush of electricity whizzed through her, and she stood still as an Egyptian statue. To watch him, unobserved, was to see raw energy barely contained beneath bone and sinew. What would it be like to unleash that energy, to see it reach its apex? How would she ever find the words to convey to the reader what was almost mystical, something that had to be experienced—not explained—especially now when her emotions were beginning to cloud her judgment?

It was as if he sensed her presence, like a jungle cat becoming aware of a predator. He turned, not his whole body, just his head and looked straight at her with those incredible eyes.

The sudden contact caused Reese’s heart to slam mercilessly in her chest. There was no mistake. What she saw in his eyes was pure, unadulterated hunger.

The current that snapped back and forth between them was broken when Carmen approached Maxwell and tapped him on the shoulder.

“The car is out front,” she said.

Maxwell tore his gaze away from Reese and she was finally freed from the magnetic hold of his eyes.

Putting on her best smile, she approached the duo. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

The hot coals of his eyes raked over her, and it took all she had not to tremble.

“Not at all. I just came down myself.”

Reese couldn’t have been more stunned if he’d smacked her. Where were the cutting remarks, the sarcasm?

Maxwell sat opposite Reese and Carmen in the limousine. “Did you talk with the housekeeper, Carmen?”

“Yes. Everything is in order. You can have your things sent over whenever you’re ready.”

“Great. Thanks. If you could take care of that for me while Ms. Delaware and I are at the office, I’d appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

Curiously, Reese looked from one to the other waiting for someone to clue her in on what was going on. No one did. So she did what came naturally. She asked.

“Is there some reason why you’re not staying at the hotel, Max?”

“Yes, there is.” One reason is because I don’t know how I’d be able to resist sneaking into your room each night, he thought. But instead he said, “I always promised myself that if I had to be away from home for long periods of time I’d have someplace I could call my own. I’m sure you’ll be quite comfortable at the hotel,” he added, seeming to want to assure her that the hotel was above reproach.

How interesting, she mused and made a mental note to explore that little revelation at a later date. “I’d love to see it before we leave.”

Maxwell cleared his throat. “I’ll make sure that you do,” he returned, his simple statement full of innuendo.

Where the New York office was charged with an unmistakable energy, the L.A. contingent epitomized California cool. The techs ambled, never rushed, down the corridors. Everyone smiled and looked as though they were headed to the beach instead of one of the fastest growing engineering companies on both coasts.

As they made their way around the winding maze of cubicles and labs, in and out of security checkpoints, it seemed that every staff member found a way to gain Maxwell’s attention. Everyone seemed thoroughly pleased that he’d returned.

“Max, good to have you back,” enthused a fiftyish-looking engineer who stopped Maxwell just outside of his office.

Maxwell actually beamed with warmth, Reese noticed, as the two men embraced in a hearty bear hug. Maxwell turned to face Carmen and Reese with his arm draped across the man’s shoulders.

This brief moment hinted at a dimension of his personality that he very infrequently allowed to be revealed, Reese realized, as another corner of her heart softened.

“I’d like to introduce you to Reese Delaware. Ms. Delaware is the journalist from Visions Magazine.”

At least he didn’t call me a reporter.

“Ms. Delaware, this is Raymond St. John, the man who runs things in my absence—and when I’m here,” he added, his laughter rumbling from deep in his chest.

Raymond stretched out his large hand to Reese, which she shook. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Delaware. Don’t let ole Max give you a hard time,” he added in a faint accent that she couldn’t quite place. It was a melodic cross between Caribbean and Southern. She made another mental note and picked up the conversation.

“He just gets a little itchy and cranky around reporters. But he really is a right nice sorta fella,” he chuckled, miming an exaggerated drawl.

“That remains to be seen,” Reese teased, giving Raymond the benefit of her best smile.

“You just keep working on him,” he offered in a stage whisper. “Get Carmen’s help,” he added, winking at Carmen. “She’s the only one who can keep him in line.”

“The way the two of you are talking, you’re acting like I’m not even here,” Maxwell shot in, pretending offense.

“I guess that’s my cue,” Raymond said. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Delaware. If you need anything, my office is right down the hall.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that and please call me Reese.”

“I sure will. As long as you call me R.J.”

“Done.”

Raymond moved down the hallway and disappeared around the corner.

“Are the two of you about ready?” Maxwell snapped in a low rumble, annoyed by the innocent flirting between R.J. and Reese. He opened the door and stepped inside.

Carmen and Reese shared a curious look and crossed the threshold.

Reese’s feet were on fire by the time Maxwell finished his tour of the tri-level facility. She’d lost count of the rooms, offices and various labs, not to mention the basement, and subbasement where all of the computer chips and electronic tapes were fabricated. No wonder everyone she ran into, no matter how fashionably they were dressed, wore sneakers.

What unnerved her the most was that Maxwell seemed to draw some sort of macabre pleasure at seeing her gritting her teeth from the ache in her toes. What happened to the man who all but admitted that something was happening between them?

“That about covers everything,” he announced, when they returned to his office three hours later. He turned to her with what she’d swear was a look of mock concern. “I hope the tour wasn’t too tiring. You do look a bit exhausted. Tokyo will be even more grueling. There are three different locations that I’ve selected, spread out across the provinces.” He smiled a cat-like grin. “I hope you’re up to it.”

“I appreciated your concern,” she replied in a tone strung as tight as the skin across a drum. “But there’s no reason for it. So you don’t have to pretend to care one way or the other.”

“Whatever you may think of me, I’m not insensitive,” he said in a voice so soft she felt herself drawing closer to be sure she’d heard correctly.

Sensing a moment of vulnerability, Reese took a deep breath and decided to take a chance. Purposefully she crossed the room and sat in a chair opposite his desk. She looked up at him.

“Then why do you treat me as though I was some awful thing that has been dropped in your midst one minute and then act like you want to rip my clothes off the next? I know being followed around isn’t easy. I know having someone ask questions about you from every Bubba, Buck, and Betty that knows you isn’t always pleasant. But for the most part, a person in your position would kill for an opportunity like this. What is it that bothers you so much? Is it me?”

Maxwell looked at her for a long moment, seeing hurt, outrage and genuine concern brimming in her amber eyes.

“Are you hungry?” he asked in that same alluring tone, as if he hadn’t heard a word she’d said. “I’m starved, and I know a wonderful restaurant where we can relax and talk.”

She opened her mouth to toss out a sarcastic retort, but when she saw the gentle look in his eyes, she changed her mind. “Sounds perfect.”

They rode for more than a half hour in silence. The only sounds were the soft notes of music coming from the incredible stereo system of Maxwell’s black-on-black Corvette—his West Coast mode of transport.

He drove with a single-mindedness, intense—just as he appeared in every area of his life. A sudden, hot flush flooded Reese when she contemplated the thought of what he would be like as a lover. Would he be just as focused and controlled—just as relentless, consuming everything around him and giving little in return? Or was that the one aspect of the inscrutable Maxwell Knight that became unleashed?

She was so involved in her erotic meanderings that she didn’t realize they’d stopped until Maxwell was at her side with the door open.

He leaned slightly forward and extended his hand. “We’re here.”

She looked up at him and her breath stuck in her throat when she saw the undeniable look of hunger dance in his exotic eyes. Almost as if afraid of being burned, she cautiously placed her hand in his.

The restaurant he’d selected was a half mile from the beach. From the vantage point of their table by the window, Reese could see the shoreline being stroked by the gentle lapping of the waves. Just off the horizon, the setting sun cast a brilliant orange glow across the shimmering water.

For several moments, Reese stared at the tranquil scene absorbing its beauty, allowing the moment to fill her with an inner peace.

While in profile, Maxwell seized the moment to enjoy watching Reese, unobserved, and felt the steady stirring within him. As much as he tried to deny it, Reese Delaware was getting under his skin and damnit, he wanted to keep her there. She embodied all of the qualities he’d want in his woman: brains, wit, confidence, honesty, beauty, and sexy as all hell. But he’d been burned before and wasn’t sure if he could handle it again. What if he opened up to her, really opened up, and she spilled his deepest thoughts and dreams onto paper. His father had nearly been destroyed by a news-hungry journalist, and then they came after him when Victoria turned on him. It had taken months and a crack public-relations firm to cool the heels of the reporters.

He sighed in silence. He didn’t get to where he was by not taking risks. And there was no question that Reese posed risks he probably could never conceive of.

As if aware of his close scrutiny, Reese turned her gaze in his direction and without preamble asked, “What are you thinking about, Max, right this minute?” She leaned forward as if his answer held the wisdom of the universe. Her eyes were transfixed on his face.

“I was wondering if I should take a chance—Reese.” He, too, leaned closer until only the small glass centerpiece that held a scented candle separated them. He looked at her over the flickering flame. “I have every reason to be wary of you. My gut instinct tells me that I should give you the bare minimum and send you on your way.”

“But,” she whispered.

His chuckle was soft, deprecating. “But—” he smiled “—what I’m beginning to feel about you is telling me otherwise.”

Reese grinned seductively. “Are you saying that you’re having feelings for me Mr. Knight?” She ran her pearl-polished nail across his knuckle.

Maxwell laughed outright, shaking his head while he enclosed her hand in his. “Reese, any man would be a fool not to fall all over himself trying to find out what makes you tick.” His voice descended another octave, and he stared into her questioning gaze. “And I don’t consider myself to be anybody’s fool.”

Reese continued to look at him even as she raised his hand and brushed her moist lips across his knuckles. “Why don’t we start from here, today,” she said in her throaty voice, “to get to know each other and save the interviewing for the office.” Her eyes were the wind racing across his face. “There are so many things I want to know about you—and believe me, they have nothing to do with my job.” She grinned wickedly.

Maxwell’s smile matched hers. “Things like what?” he challenged.

Reese opened her mouth to respond, when a shadow and the scent of Chanel No. 5 floated across their table. They both looked up simultaneously. Reese was instantly alert to the mixture of shock, anger, and something she couldn’t place on Maxwell’s face.

“Victoria,” he said, his voice laden with memories.

The striking woman moved closer, her startling green eyes zeroing in on Maxwell. She reached for him, her long, slender hand the color of suntanned porcelain, clasped his, the one that had moments ago held Reese’s.

“It’s so good to see you again, Max.” Her voice was light, almost musical in its quality, Reese noted with annoyance. Who was this woman and why in the devil did she have to show up now?

Victoria bent, daintily at the knee until she was eye-level with Maxwell. “How long will you be in town?”

He ignored her question, knowing that he’d answered it when they’d spoken on the phone. He eased his hand from her grasp and indicated Reese.

“Reese Delaware, this is Victoria Davenport.” Reese spotted the telltale tightening of his jaw.

Slowly Victoria rose and Reese had the unsettling sensation that she knew this woman with the silky strawberry blond hair and green eyes. A dull pounding began in her temple. She winced.

Victoria summoned all of her self-control to quell the rage that bubbled to the surface like hot lava. So this was her. In the flesh. Her half sister. She swallowed her pride, and recalled her promise to her mother on her deathbed. Her smile never reached her uncanny eyes. “Nice to meet you. How did you two meet?” she asked in a sugar-based voice.

Maxwell leaned back in his seat. “Ms. Delaware is a journalist from Visions Magazine.”

“Oh, yes,” she said brightly. “I believe you did mention that on the phone.”

Inwardly Reese cringed. So they’d spoken on the phone—recently. “Where are you from?” Reese queried, in her get-on-the-good-side interviewer’s voice. “That’s definitely not a California accent I hear.” Her smile was full of encouragement, laced with venom.

Victoria tossed her mid-back-length hair over her shoulder with a toss of her head—an affectation that Maxwell, at one time, thought was sexy. Now it annoyed him.

Victoria’s smile was slow in coming. “Norfolk, Virginia. And you?”

“I grew up in Arlington, Virginia,” Reese said slowly, as though searching for her thoughts.

Victoria felt a tightness in her chest. Her heart began to race. They’d practically been neighbors—all those years, she thought, the blood boiling in her veins with a surge of jealousy. “What a small world.” She forced a smile.

Maxwell watched the exchange with growing interest. The two women were like night and day in personality and in looks. Reese with her dark beauty and Victoria with her lighter than air looks. How curious, he mused, that he had been, and now was, attracted to such opposites.

“Well,” Victoria said on a long breath. “I must be going. I have some business clients waiting for me. Nice meeting you, Reese.” She turned her attention toward Maxwell. “And I hope we can…get together before you head off to Tokyo.”

“I don’t see where I’ll have time.” He hesitated. “But maybe I’ll give you a call.”

She dug in her purse, pulled out a business card and jotted down a number. She handed the card to Maxwell. “Try,” she softly urged. “That’s the number where I’ll be staying.” She nodded in Reese’s direction and glided away.

“So how long were you two involved?” Reese boldly asked.

“It’s not anything I care to discuss,” he replied succinctly, shutting down any further discussion on the subject of Victoria Davenport.

But even though Victoria was no longer in their midst, they were unable to recapture that brief moment of intimacy.

They ate their meal of steamed mussels and garnished spaghetti in relative silence, punctuated by brief comments about the city of Los Angeles and places they’d traveled.

“I always envisioned Japan as an extremely exotic and mystical place,” Reese said, as Maxwell drove toward the hotel.

He chuckled. “A lot of that is pure hype. For the most part, it’s just like any other bustling metropolis, only more crowded.”

“Humph. A lot of fun you are,” she scoffed. “You’ve completely ruined my fantasy.”

Maxwell sobered and slanted his eyes in her direction. “Seems like a few things got ruined tonight.”

“We did seem to get sidetracked. But it isn’t anything that can’t be fixed.” She turned in her seat to face his profile and waited.

Maxwell cut the engine of the Corvette. For a split second before he turned to her, he pursed his lips as if debating the inevitable. Catlike he turned toward her, his dark exotic eyes skimming across her face. His gaze seemed to hold her breath captive in her chest, and she began to feel the drumming of her pulse in her ears.

By infinitesimal degrees he leaned closer, his eyes never leaving her face. Just as his mouth was a whisper away from her, Reese’s eyes fluttered closed in anticipation.

In a heady whisper, he commanded, “Look at me.”

Reese slowly opened her eyes and was instantly drawn downward into the twin pools of midnight. His lips captured hers, his mouth hot, hard and moist. Unbidden, a sigh rose from deep in her throat when his tongue ran across her parted lips, before conquering the depths of her waiting mouth.

Fingers of steel clasped her head, pulling her closer, deeper into the kiss, while Reese clung to his shirt as if afraid of drowning in the tidal wave of the coupling.

A moan tore from Maxwell’s throat as he pulled slowly away. Gingerly he rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. He hadn’t expected a simple kiss to affect him the way Reese’s kisses did. Each time that his lips met hers, he lost another part of himself. He felt consumed by the roar in his heart. It would be so easy to let himself go with this woman—to give himself up to her and make her his.

Reese tenderly caressed the hard line of his jaw. She felt shaken, and lightheaded. Certainly she’d been kissed before more times than she could count. But never before had she experienced the awesomeness of a simple kiss. Max had transported her to a place she’d never been and her body, on fire, was screaming for more of the sweet torture.

Maxwell inhaled deeply then spoke in one long breath. “I think you ought to be getting upstairs. We have a busy day tomorrow,” he added softly.

“Max, I…”

His dark eyes swirled, reflecting the raging storm that brewed in his spirit. But his voice masked the turmoil within. “It’s really late Reese. I’ll have a car pick you up at seven forty-five,” he continued, now all business.

She’d never felt so humiliated. But she’d never give him the satisfaction of seeing her break down. “You’re right. And I did want to get some writing done before I went to bed.” She turned away from him and flipped the lock on the door. “Good night, Max, and thank you for a lovely evening.”

Before he had a chance to respond, she was out of the car and pushing through the revolving doors of the hotel.

Maxwell pressed his head against the steering column. “You idiot,” he bellowed, slamming his fists against the dashboard.

Reese walked blindly through the lobby, propelled by instinct. Each step she took she fought down the tears that scorched her eyes. She would not cry, she vowed. The headache that had begun at the restaurant built to a crescendo.

By the time she reached her room, she was weak with the pain. Stumbling to the bathroom, she snatched her medication from the cabinet. Downing two tablets without benefit of water, she virtually crawled out of the bathroom to her bed.

Collapsing on top of the quilts, she squeezed her eyes shut against the torrent of pain, and then the nightmares bloomed with terrifying might.

Chapter 7

James Knight sat erect, waiting to be called in by his superiors. He knew what the questions would be. He was prepared.

“Colonel Knight.”

James looked up, then stood at attention.

“The general will see you now.”

James followed the secretary down the long corridor to the main conference room. Nothing good ever came out of meetings in this room, he reflected morosely. He’d attended enough of them to know.

Moments later, James was sequestered in the conference room full of secret service and high-ranking military staffers. He recognized several of the faces as Special Forces personnel as well.

“I’ll get right to the point of this meeting Colonel Knight,” General Murphy began. “It’s been brought to our attention that your son,” he paused and glanced at his notes, “Maxwell, is being interviewed by Visions Magazine.”

“Yes, sir, he is.”

General Murphy closed the folder and stared at James over the top of his glasses. “How much does he know, Colonel? And what are the chances of this reporter digging far enough back to uncover your activities?”

James cleared his throat and straightened in his seat. “My son knows absolutely nothing about what went on that morning, sir. He was only seventeen years old. As for the reporter, sir, I can’t say what he or she will find out.”

General Murphy pursed his lips, then clasped his hands in front of him. “That, unfortunately, is not good enough, Colonel Knight. We cannot allow even the slightest hint of wrongdoing to be linked to the military.”

“I understand that, General. I…”

“No. I don’t think you do understand, Colonel. We have a situation here. It’s up to you to ensure that your son in no way points this reporter in our direction. Are you aware that the reporter is Hamilton Delaware’s daughter?”

“Yes, sir.” He swallowed back the memories. “She hasn’t remembered anything, sir, or we would have known.”

Murphy waved away his comment. “Do what you must, and we will do the same. Keep me posted.” The general looked down at the files on the table. “You’re dismissed, Colonel.”

James stood at attention and saluted, turned on his heels and strode out. His son was in danger, he realized, the panic building with every step he took down the long, winding corridor. The general’s message was shrouded, but clear. General Murphy would do whatever was necessary to cover the activities under his command. He’d done it once. He’d do it again and again. The Special Forces unit of the Air Force, of which James was still a part, would not be implicated, even if Murphy had to remove everyone with any knowledge of what they’d done.

James returned home feeling as if ten years had been added to his age. He knew what he had to do. Closing the door behind him, he walked into the kitchen, picked up the phone, and dialed his best friend Larry Templeton.

Victoria paced the carpeted living area of her hotel room. It was pure chance that she’d run into Max last night. Her intention was to arrive unannounced at his office. The fact that he’d taken Reese to what had once been their favorite restaurant in L.A. only fueled her anger. She only had three days in L.A. There was no way she could justify her absence from Washington any longer than that. She’d used her business contacts as an excuse for the trip, insisting that she’d be able to get the software manufacturers to mass-produce the new program she’d developed. She knew she had to go back with something. But her mind was on anything but business.

Whether Maxwell took her back or not, she would not sit idly by and let Reese get her privileged little claws into him. She faced herself in the mirror. She’d have to think of something.

Celeste awoke with the sun as she had for most of her adult life. She sat up in her queen-size bed, then sighed heavily. There was no reason to rush. She had nowhere to go and no one to rush to.

Until a year ago, she’d been a practicing RN doing private duty for the Air Force, until her growing illness made even that impossible. At least the money she still received helped. Two thousand dollars arrived in her account like clockwork. It’s funny how twisted life becomes, she lamented. Twenty-eight years ago, she’d been paid to keep a secret. She’d felt outrage, humiliation. But she took it to survive. Thirteen years later, the stakes increased and the secret took on devastating proportions. She’d lived well, but lonely as a result. Now, once again, it was her means of survival.

She turned toward her nightstand to the framed photo of Hamilton Delaware, her one and only love.

With effort she pushed herself up from the bed. “Things could have been so different if you’d only given us a chance. My sister never loved you the way I did. Damn you Hamilton Delaware,” she railed, hot tears of regret streaming down her smooth face of cinnamon. “Damn you for all you’ve done and God help me, I still love you.”

She slipped to her knees and buried her face in the sheets of her bed, her body shaken by the force of her sobs.

The shrill ringing of the phone jarred Reese out of her troubled sleep. For several moments, she thought the sound was only part of the never-ending nightmare that had tortured her throughout the night.

The phone rang again. This time she opened her eyes but quickly shut them against the onslaught of the brilliant sun. With one hand over her eyes, she groped for the phone with the other.

“H-ello?”

“Hey, girl. It’s me Lynnette. I’m at O’Hare on the next flight to L.A. I should be arriving at 5:00 p.m. your time.”

“O-kay,” she mumbled, struggling to get her thoughts to focus.

“Reese,” Lynnette said, suddenly alert to Reese’s disoriented tone. “What’s wrong? Are you sick? I tried calling you all evening.”

“No,” she mumbled. “Really, I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me, Reese. It’s the headaches again, isn’t it? Tell me.”

“Yes,” she cried, burying her face in her hands. “And I don’t know why. I was fine—until—I left Chicago.”

“Something is triggering them. We need to just figure out what it is. What about the nightmares?” She held her breath.

“Those, too,” she admitted in a ragged voice.

“Hang in there, girl. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Thank you, Lynn.”

“It’s gonna be cool. Gotta go, they’re calling my flight.” Lynnette hung up and dashed across the terminal, all the while thinking of her friend who was more like her sister. Growing up as teens, Lynnette had watched in fear, shock, and hurt when Reese would literally collapse under the force of the pain in her head. She’d spent nights with her when out of the blue, Reese would toss and turn, scream unintelligible sounds and practically leap from the bed, eyes wide and unseeing in a cold sweat. Yet she could remember nothing of the dreams.

Lynnette fastened her seatbelt and leaned back. It had been three years since the nightmares had stopped completely. The headaches were manageable. Lynnette closed her eyes. Why now? she wondered.

Chapter 8

Reese finally managed to get out of bed and make it to the bathroom. With great effort, she peeled her damp gown from her weary body.

Reaching for the faucets, she turned on the water full blast and stepped into the pounding shower.

Twenty minutes later she emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a thick terry-cloth robe. She checked the clock on the nightstand. 10:30. She should have… “Oh, my God…the car…”

Walking as quickly as her wobbly legs would allow, she sat on the bed and dialed the front desk.

“Yes, Ms. Delaware. A driver was here for you this morning. We rang your room, but received no answer. When you didn’t come down by eight-fifteen he left.”

“I see. Thank you.” Reese squeezed her eyes shut in frustration. “Now what am I going to do? Knowing Max he’ll probably assume I’m having a tantrum about last night,” she grumbled aloud. “Arrogant bastard.”

She got up from the bed and began to pace, energy slowly winding its way through her body. “He had a helluva nerve kissing me like that and then acting as if nothing happened. He must take me for…”

The doorbell rang interrupting her diatribe. She stomped across the room fueled by her outrage and flung open the door.

“I got worried when the driver arrived without you.”

Reese’s stomach did a quick somersault while her brain scrambled for organization. “M-ax-well.” At that precise moment, with him standing in front of her, looking for all the world as if he’d just stepped off the cover of Ebony Man Magazine, she had a difficult time trying to remember why she’d been so pissed-off only minutes ago.

“How’s the headache?”

Briefly she frowned in confusion. “How did you…?”

“I could see the beginnings last night.” He paused. “I should have stayed to make sure you were alright. I’m sorry.”

His apology tugged on her heart. “There’s no need to apologize. I didn’t realize it was that obvious,” she said softly.

He slipped his hands in the pockets of his cream-colored linen slacks in an effort to keep from reaching out and touching her. His dreams had been filled with her; in front of him, at his side, beneath him. When he finally tore himself away from his erotic dreams, he knew he had to see her.

Maxwell angled his chin in the direction of the interior of the suite. “May I come in?” His dark eyes swept over her and his voice reached down to the bottom of her soul. “I’ll only stay as long as you want me to. I promise.”

A surge of heat engulfed her, while her heart roared so loudly she swore it would burst. “Sure.” She stepped aside and tugged on the belt of her robe. “Come on in.”

Maxwell followed her into the suite, the scent of her freshly bathed body leaving a sensual trail for him to follow.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she suggested, stopping in front of the couch. “I’ll just be a few minutes.” Quickly she disappeared into the bedroom.

“What in the devil am I going to put on?” she mumbled, frantically tearing through her wardrobe. Finally she decided on a lemon-yellow tank top and lime green cotton slacks, with a pair of espadrilles that matched her top. She slipped a slinky gold belt through the loops of her slacks and pushed tiny gold studs through her ears.

A look in the mirror caused her to gasp in horror. Her hair was a wreck, hanging limply around her shoulders from the steam of the shower. She pulled a stiff brush through her hair and quickly twisted it into a neat French roll.

“Not bad,” she nodded to her reflection. Then across her lips she added the barest hint of cinnamon lip gloss, and stroked her lashes with jet black mascara.

“You go, girl,” she said, smiling. Taking a fortifying breath, she reentered the living area.

Maxwell stood up the moment she entered and his heart seemed to shift in his chest. She was so lovely.

“Hope I didn’t take too long.” She made her way across the room, but stopped several feet away from him.

Maxwell crossed the remaining space that separated them. He gave her one long heated look that set her body aglow, and without further waiting swiftly took her into his arms, crushing her against his pulsing body.

His mouth, hungry for the taste of her again, took her lips, briefly savoring their sweetness before dipping into the hot core of her mouth.

Reese wrapped her arms around his hard, lean body, eager to feel the strength of him as he surged against her. She suckled his tongue, committing its texture to memory, allowing it to awaken every nerve ending in her body.

An unstoppable need to know her filled him with the force of a monsoon, building in ferocity. His hands began a slow dance along her back, compelling her to arch closer—tighter. Downward his hands trailed, stroking her round hips, pulling the heart of her desire against the heat of his.

He moaned her name as he pulled away from her lips, only to run his tongue along the tender cords of her neck. Reese trembled and cried out his name, tossing her head back to give him full access.

“I want you, Reese. Here and now. I won’t deny that anymore. But that would be too easy,” he groaned in her ear. He took a step back, looked into her eyes and stroked her face with his fingertip. “You deserve more than just a mating game.” He took a breath. “And I don’t know if I’m capable of giving more than that. Not anymore.”

He set her away from him and turned his back to her.

“Max,” she whispered, trembling from the aftermath of his loving. She reached out to touch his stiff shoulder. “Please don’t turn away from me. Talk to me—please.”

He expelled a short, hollow laugh. “Reese, I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

She came around to stand in front of him. “How about if I start first,” she offered.

Maxwell looked into her eyes, expecting some insignificant piece of information. But nothing could have prepared him for her revelation.

Chapter 9

Maxwell stared at Reese for several long moments, attempting to digest what she’d said.

“Pretty unbelievable, huh?”

Maxwell’s eyebrows rose then lowered in silent response. “How could you not remember anything before the accident?” he asked, his voice heavy with bewilderment.

Reese slowly shook her head. “I’ve been to every doctor, neurosurgeon, psychologist and psychiatrist worth their shingle. The general consensus is that there’s nothing physically wrong with me. The headaches and the nightmares are all a manifestation of my intentional attempt to suppress my memory.”

“That’s what the doctors told you?” he sputtered in disbelief.

Reese nodded. “That’s the only explanation any of them could offer. The trauma of the accident was so severe that I’ve completely erased it and my entire life leading up to it.”

Maxwell leaned slightly forward, bracing his arms on his thighs. “You have no memory of the first fifteen years of your life?” he asked in astonished wonder.

“None,” she said in a tone of resignation.

Maxwell heaved a sigh. “This is just incredible.” He got up to kneel in front of where she sat. “How do you deal with it?” he asked with such absolute sincerity it tore at her heart.

“Day by day,” she answered softly. “Just day by day.”

He reached out, letting the tip of his index finger trail along the contours of her face. Then gently he asked, “Do you want to remember, Reese—really want to remember?”

Briefly she shut her eyes. “At times, especially when the pain and the nightmares are so bad that I just wish I would die. Then, when things are good, I don’t want to know. If what happened was that horrible, maybe it’s best I never remember.”

“That can’t be better, Reese. And the only way to rid yourself of the pain and the nightmares is to rid yourself of the fear of remembering.”

“Yes, doc,” she teased, chucking him under the chin in an attempt to lighten the somber mood. She popped up from her seat and slowly began to pace. Then she suddenly turned toward him. “What’s most disturbing, at the moment, is that the headaches and the nightmares started again…when I met you.”

Maxwell’s dark eyes widened. “Let me get this straight. You started having these reoccurrences after we met?”

“Yes. At first I thought it was the stress of the trip. But the headaches started getting worse, like I told you. I had to begin taking the prescription medicine again. And then the nightmares.” She shut her eyes and wrapped her arms around her waist as a tremor shimmied through her. “I hadn’t suffered from those in close to three years.”

An unnatural sense of foreboding settled in the pit of Maxwell’s belly. There was a reason for everything, he rationalized. But what could the reason be for him to be the catalyst that triggered her ordeal?

“How do you feel right now, right at this moment?”

“Right now I feel fine. The pain is gone and I can’t remember my dreams.”

“Good. Come on. Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door.

“Where?” she cried doubling her step to keep up with him.

“Just get your purse, or whatever, and let’s go. What you need is a little R&R. And I have just the place.”

“But what about work?” she giggled, caught up in the moment.

“What about it?” he grinned over his shoulder.

Maxwell pressed the button for the sunroof of the car, turned up the music, and sped off.

“Now are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

He turned to her and smiled. “Just relax,” he said, patting her folded hands. “I guarantee you’re going to love it.”

Reese pouted but held her tongue. When was the last time she’d done anything spontaneously? Too long, she concluded. The only way she’d been able to manage her life, such as it was, was to organize and compartmentalize every aspect of it. That ritual seemed to give some validity to her existence, as if documenting her every move would eradicate the possibility that she’d ever forget anything again.

“Do you keep a journal?” Maxwell asked out of the blue, almost as if he’d just taken a short hop through her thoughts.

Reese turned to him. Her right eyebrow arched. “Why did you ask me that?”

“It just seems like you would. Keeping notes, a diary or journal is a good way to record your thoughts. I would think that your…situation is a basis for you being a journalist as well. Always searching for the truth, uncovering information.” He glanced at her. “So, do you?”

“Yes, Sherlock,” she retorted, mystified by his astuteness. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Did you keep a diary before—the accident?”

Sadly she shook her head. “I only wish that I had.” Then she chuckled halfheartedly. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t remember where I’d put it.”

“That’s unfortunate, but it’s just so amazing to me how you’ve managed to cope all of these years. What about school? How did you function?”

“That’s one of the curious things of this whole illness. After I came out of the coma, I was able to function relatively normally. I knew how to read, write, dress—everything. I hadn’t forgotten any of it. But my life, my family, friends, places I’d been, things I’d heard or seen were gone as if they’d never existed.”

Maxwell frowned and his admiration for Reese Delaware grew. She was a phenomenal woman. And to look at her and be in her presence, one would never suspect all that she’d endured. She was a survivor, strong and determined, like the great Sphinx of Egypt. But beneath the tough, got-it-together exterior was a very vulnerable woman who needed—and quite possibly needed more than he would ever be able to give. The thought saddened him.

They’d been on the road for more than two hours, driving in comfortable silence punctuated by brief comments about the magnificent scenery or the balmy air.

By degrees, Reese felt her entire self uncoil and relax as she gave in to the calming sensations that filled her spirit. She took in her surroundings and noticed that they turned onto the exit marked San Diego. Well, at least she had an idea what town they were headed for.

“We’re almost there,” Maxwell announced.

“Almost where?”

“You’ll see.” He grinned.

It was close to a half hour later when Maxwell turned onto a long sandy drive. Up ahead sat an architect’s dream. The stunning structure was a model of glass, chrome, and wood. Even from where she sat, she could see the entire interior of the two-story home, with winding staircases and timeless furnishings.

He pulled into the underground garage and cut the engine. “Come on. Let me show you around.”

Reese followed him around the rambling abode, awestruck. Words to describe the hideaway palace escaped her.

Every room on the second level opened to a deck where the beach was clearly visible. And as much as she hated to cook, she could easily change her tune if she had a kitchen like Max’s. Light streamed in from every angle, dancing off of the chrome and aluminum fixtures and utensils. The center island was a work of art in black and white marble that matched the gleaming tile floors.

“Kick off your shoes and make yourself at home,” he instructed. “Today is your day. If you feel like dancing,” he said giving her a low bow, “we have—” he pressed a button in the wall “—music.” The silky, sexy voice of Marvin Gaye’s “Distant Lover” floated through the air. “If you feel like swimming, the heated pool is below.” He indicated a door that led to the basement. He grinned mischievously as he watched the expression of childlike wonder skip across her face. “Should you care to immerse yourself in a jettison of aquatic relief, the Jacuzzi is upstairs.”

Reese beamed in delight. “This is like taking a trip to Disney World. What about if I’m hungry?” she tossed out.

“The kitchen, madame, is thataway. I’m sure it’s fully stocked and everything you could want is in there. Carmen is always good about taking care of those details.”

Reese blew out a long breath, put her hands on her waist, and looked all around like a tourist on their first trip to the big city. “This place is absolutely fantastic,” she said finally. She turned to find Maxwell leaning casually against the archway. “But when do you get the chance to enjoy it?”

“Not often enough,” he admitted, folding his arms in front of him. “But I try to get down here at least every two to three months.”

Reese nodded. She wanted to ask him how many women he’d shared the glass wonderland with. She wanted to ask him if this was all part of the seduction. And she did.

“How often do you bring company to this little den of delights?”

The corner of Maxwell’s mouth quirked upward in a grin. “Do you really want to know?” he taunted.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” she said, raising her chin in challenge.

“Not as often as I’d like,” he said being intentionally evasive.

“Seems like I’ve heard that somewhere before.”

Maxwell pushed away from the door, crossed the short space and stepped right up to her, forcing her to look up into his eyes. His voice dropped to a rumbling whisper. “Let’s just say your question has been asked and answered.” His dark gaze did a slow waltz across her face. “The important thing is you’re here—right now. Anything or anyone before you, before now, doesn’t matter. So don’t let it.”

He was so close, Reese could feel the heat from his body reach out and wrap around her. Her heart was racing and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. Suddenly he turned away and the spell was broken.

“I’m going upstairs for a minute,” he said over his shoulder. “Enjoy yourself in the meantime.”

Reese watched him bound up the stairs. She shook her head in frustration. She just couldn’t figure him out. One minute he was cool and distant, the next he acted as if he’d strip her bare with the slightest provocation.

She crossed the sunken living room and walked around the redwood table that dominated the center of the room. The hardwood floors, all the color of sand, gleamed as the rays of the sun bounced off of them.

Soft music drifted through the rooms from speakers built strategically into the walls. Reese opened the sliding glass doors and stepped out onto the enclosed deck. She inhaled deeply of the sea-washed air, invigorating herself. Where was all of the California smog she’d heard about? From her vantage point, she could see for miles in every direction. She thought she spotted a car nestled in the shrubs just beyond the perimeter of the house. But there was no reason for…

“Enjoying the view?”

Reese jumped at the sudden sound of his voice so close to her ear. She hadn’t heard his approach.

“You should make some noise and let a person know you’re around,” she said, annoyed at having been caught unaware.

“Sorry,” he chuckled. “Old habit.”

“What kind of habit—scaring people to death?”

Maxwell hung his head and grinned. “Not exactly,” he said, looking up.

If she didn’t know better she’d swear his eyes were twinkling. “What exactly does that mean?”

He could see the beginning of a smile teasing the corners of her mouth and knew that he was on safer ground. He slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “Well I’ve studied martial arts for a little over twenty years,” he began. “It stresses the importance of harnessing your energy to make your movements one with the environment. When you can accomplish that, you can virtually move from space to space without disturbance.”

That would certainly account for his uncanny ability to sit for long periods of time without seeming to move a muscle, she realized. “Like a ninja or something,” she offered trying to make a correlation to something familiar.

Maxwell chuckled and shook his head. “Yeah, something like that,” he teased.

Reese impatiently folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Don’t patronize me,” she said in a huff. Her eyes narrowed daring him to challenge her.

He held up his palms in a fending off position. “Sorry,” he apologized with what he felt was just the right amount of sincerity to appease her. She still rolled her eyes.

“Can I interest you in something to eat—to make amends?”

One side of her mouth inched upward as she struggled to keep from smiling. “That’s a start.”

Maxwell turned and stepped through the opening in the sliding door. Reese was on his heels beaming like a Cheshire cat.

Reese sat on one side of the island on a bar stool with her feet wrapped around the rungs watching Maxwell work wonders in the kitchen. Within minutes, mouthwatering aromas permeated the air.

“Smells good,” Reese said, skepticism underscoring her husky voice.

“I’m sure you’ll be quite pleased, Ms. Delaware,” was his pointed reply. He refused to rise to the bait.

She had no intention of letting him off that easy. “So—what are we having?”

“Chef’s surprise.”

She tossed her head back and laughed. “I can see the headlines now,” she spouted, theatrically spreading her hands through the air. “World-famous journalist, Reese Delaware, found poisoned in the posh home of computer wizard, Maxwell Knight.”

“Very funny,” he grumbled good-naturedly. “I’ll have you know that I’ve been cooking since my preteen years. Since my father was in the military, we traveled a great deal.” He paused to sprinkle some hand-chopped condiments onto the sizzling wok. “With my stepmother working, I learned how to cook as well as pick up some of the native recipes.”

“What did your father do?”

“Military intelligence,” he scoffed. “Some high-level stuff he never wanted to talk about.”

“Hmm.” Reese let that bit of information sink in. “What about your mother? You mentioned stepmother.”

Maxwell shrugged. “I never knew my birth mother. My father met her when he was stationed in Japan.” He looked down at his handiwork and stirred. “I always felt that it was a part of me that was missing. I never even saw a picture of her.” He chuckled softly and continued as if speaking to himself. “I grew up with these fantasies about her, as if my thoughts could somehow make her real. My father never wanted to discuss her other than to say that she’d died shortly after my birth. I guess that’s why I was so adamant about capturing and understanding that aspect of my heritage. I did my graduate work in Tokyo, learned the language, tried to assimilate into their society.” He sighed. “But it didn’t work. I never felt that I fit in.”

The underlying pain in his voice touched her so deeply she could almost feel his loneliness. “But what about your stepmother?” she asked gently.

“She was there,” he commented in a monotone. “We never really had a relationship. I always sensed that she resented me for some reason. And I could never understand why.” He hesitated before speaking again. “I tried to get to know her, be a good son, but nothing made much of a difference.”

“It’s strange,” she began slowly, “but we have a lot in common. Even though you had parents, they were lost to you, just as my parents are lost to me.” She sighed, casting aside the melancholy. “Where are some of the places you’ve been?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.

“All over Japan.” He briskly stirred the contents in the wok, then turned off the jet. “Parts of Europe, Africa, South America, and the Philippines.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“Is that the reason why it’s so important for you to have a place to call home when you travel?”

He turned to look at her, curiosity and a deeper sense of awareness swam in his eyes. “That’s part of it,” he answered softly and turned back to his work, spooning the food onto a platter. Maxwell took a deep breath and let out an inaudible sigh. He struggled to keep from smiling. Just talking to her like a person and expressing his feelings about something so personal to him, actually felt good. It didn’t hurt like he thought it would. She seemed to be able to read him and gauge his feelings. Maybe it was the journalist in her. But a part of him knew better. Reese was a naturally caring and compassionate woman. He wanted to trust her. He wanted to let go and be all that he could be—and he wanted it with her.

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