In Bed With the Boss: The Brazilian Boss's Innocent Mistress / the Billionaire Boss's Innocent Bride / the Surgeon Boss's Bride
Author: Sarah Morgan; Lindsay Armstrong; Melanie Milburne
Date: 2011-08-19 15:03:13+00:00
Keywords: Fiction; Romance; General
Description: When the boss...gets unbuttoned! Deep in the Brazilian rainforest, innocent English rose Grace has come to reclusive billionaire Rafael’s lair to save her business. With just minutes to persuade him to help – her only other option is to settle her debts in his bed! Alexandra is worlds away from Max Goodwin’s glamorous staff, but this CEO needs a secretary – fast. So he hires Alex, with one condition: a makeover! Soon Max’s thoughts turn from professional to very personal indeed... Brilliant surgeon Ben Blackwood grew up with nothing. So when the rich daughter of the man who jeopardised Ben’s c
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers

Seducing the enemy has never been so tempting…

For the last five years, bookish Claire Williams has been living for the dying. Now that her stint as caretaker is over, she’s off to see the world. She needs quick cash first, so a temp job at Anderson Auctions seems perfect, especially with the unexpected benefits, including the hottest man she’s ever laid eyes—or hands—on.

Former Marine William Anderson has been burned one time too many. His military training makes him the perfect man to flush out the spy undercutting his family business, but no amount of training can prepare him for the kind of undercover work he’ll have to do when the sexy new temp is implicated. Desire lands them in bed…but duty may cost him his heart.

Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Acknowledgments
About the Author

Find love in unexpected places with these satisfying Lovestruck reads…

Tempting Her Best Friend
Tell Me Something Good
Fiancée for Hire
Meeting His Match

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by Marissa Clarke. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 109

Fort Collins, CO 80525

Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

Lovestruck is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Liz Pelletier

Cover design by Heather Howland

ISBN 978-1-62266-425-2

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition August 2014

For my sister, Karren Lynch, who taught me smart women read romance.

And to Sophie Jordan, who taught me smart women write it.

Chapter One

“Hold the door, please!” Claire skidded into the crowded elevator, heart hammering from her full-out sprint through the lobby. “Thanks.” She squeezed in next to a woman in a business suit who looked like a prototype for a Wall Street Barbie doll and was wearing too much perfume.

Achoo!

Crap. Claire held her breath to avoid irritating her nose any further.

Achoo!

This time when she sneezed, she bumped someone behind her. Wall Street cast her a sideways glance and harrumphed—gave an honest-to-goodness harrumph. Claire hadn’t heard one of those since graduating from Mrs. Reynolds’s second-grade class. She resisted rolling her eyes. Barely.

Mercifully, the door slid open, accompanied by a classy ding befitting the sleek, stylish, and oh-so-exclusive Anderson Building.

Why the hell had she agreed to this? Because she had never been able to tell Heather no, that’s why. Well, she needed to learn how. She rubbed her nose and risked a breath. Bad idea. She was really allergic to whatever it was—like, ants-in-the-nostrils allergic. Claire pinched her nose, praying to not sneeze again.

Several people shuffled off, but unfortunately, not the person wearing Eau de Hell. She rubbed her nose with the back of her hand and someone behind her chuckled. It was almost impossible not to turn around to check out the source of the low, masculine sound bordering on a purr.

Ding. More people got off, including Wall Street, and the air cleared a bit.

Floor twenty-two, and they were only halfway to the top. She glanced at her watch, and yeah, she was late. She pinched her still-itching nose as the door stopped on floor thirty and everyone filed out except for a guy at the back of the elevator. Claire found herself gawking as the door slid shut.

Hot? Holy smokes, he was hot—and huge, like a football player. Her body buzzed to life like she’d just chugged that double-shot cappuccino she’d passed up because she was late. No need for caffeine now. Maybe her best friend Heather was right; maybe getting out of the house was a good thing. Claire jerked her gaze away and faced front, pushing the button for the top floor as if hitting it again would matter.

He pulled a handkerchief out of this top jacket pocket and held it out to her.

She shook her head. “No, no thanks. I’m good.” Blasted sneezing. The woman had left an olfactory equivalent of the atom bomb.

Achoo!

He wiggled the handkerchief. “I insist.”

She shook her head and pushed her glasses into place. “I…uh…” Feeling another sneeze coming on, she conceded defeat and accepted his offer. In her usual style, she dropped her purse. Items scattered in all directions over the rose marble elevator floor.

Heather called this kind of thing a Claire-ism because she was Murphy’s Law personified. If something silly, awkward, or bizarre could happen, it would happen to Claire.

Track repairs making her train late to work? Check.

Shoe strap breaking as she ran from subway station to building? Check.

Bizarre, intense perfume allergy kicking in while stuffed into a packed elevator with a painfully hot guy? Check.

Spilling her purse in front of said painfully hot guy? Check.

Four Claire-isms in a morning was impressive, but not unheard of. She shook her head and tried to smile. “Just one of those days,” she said, bending down to pick up her belongings. And, yep, that ripping sound would be her skirt, bringing the total to five—an all-time record. Somehow she didn’t feel like cheering for this impressive accomplishment.

The guy reached over her and inserted a tiny key into a slot above the top button, and the elevator came to a smooth stop. Oh, God. That meant he was someone important.

He squatted down next to her as she snatched up her lipstick, keys, and rail pass. “I think something ripped,” he whispered.

She dropped the items into her purse and met his bright blue eyes. “Yeah, that would be the sound of the last shreds of my dignity being torn in two.”

He laughed and reached across her to pick up her cell phone. His nearness and the timbre of his laugh sent a ripple of thrill through her.

At least she wasn’t sneezing anymore. And hallelujah for that because he smelled as delicious as he looked. Like a big peppermint lollipop. Broad shoulders, closely cropped brown hair, and great cheekbones rounded off the other three bases, making it a hot-man home run. She shook her head. What was wrong with her? She should probably never leave the house. She was a walking disaster.

To add to the awkward, the guy stood and shrugged out of his perfectly tailored jacket and held it out to her. “To cover your shredded dignity,” he said in a completely serious tone. Only a dimple on his right cheek betrayed his pseudo-somber demeanor.

She rose to stand, keeping her front to him, praying the damage to her skirt wasn’t that bad—though the draft of cool air over her butt told another story. She’d probably lost the whole back seam. “Thanks.”

She slid the jacket on, ignoring the fact that his eyes were trained on her reflection in the door over her shoulder. She scanned the floor of the elevator for missed items, but found none. Hey, at least nothing really embarrassing had been in her purse.

“Ready?” he asked, dimple still present and accounted for.

His jacket hung way below her skirt line, so no matter how bad the damage, she was covered. At least the worst was over. What else could possibly go wrong?

He turned the key and the elevator smoothly rose the remaining flights before making its final refined ding.

“I’m Will Anderson,” he said, extending his hand.

William Anderson of Anderson Auctions. Her boss. Awesome. Claire groaned inwardly, and shook his hand, mentally tallying the Claire-isms to a record-breaking six, and it wasn’t even eight o’clock yet.

Chapter Two

Will watched the woman wearing his suit jacket scurry across the lobby and disappear into an office. He straightened his tie and grinned. The scenery had certainly improved in the weeks he’d been gone.

“Where’s your jacket?” The question came before he’d even gotten all the way into his brother’s office. Michael had a bad case of big-brother-itis, along with a side of OCD, and always insisted on business attire and stuffy professionalism in the workplace because clients sometimes showed up unexpectedly.

“Hey, Mikey. Good to see you, too. My trip was great, thanks for asking.” Will sat in one of the two leather wing chairs opposite the huge mahogany desk that had belonged to their father before he retired three years ago, then pulled at the tight collar of his dress shirt. Out of habit, he scanned the room for potential threats. Everything looked the same as it had the last time he’d been here, with the exception of the rolling suitcase in the corner, hanging bag draped over the top.

Michael sat back and steepled his fingers. “Sorry. Glad you’re back. How were the islands?”

“Lonely.”

The word hung there like a long football pass in slo-mo and neither man said anything for a while. It had been almost a year since Will’s return from his second tour in Afghanistan, and he should be over Beth by now. Should be. Michael finally broke the awkward moment. “Want some coffee?”

“I’d prefer a beer.” Will knew his attempt at humor missed its mark when his brother responded with a scowl. “I’m just messing with you.”

Michael studied him for a moment before speaking. “We need to talk about something that came up while you were on vacation.”

Some vacation. Sitting alone on the porch of their family villa, staring at the empty beach where he’d brought Beth the summer before he was deployed. He should never have gone back there. All he did was lament the dreams he’d lost when he lost Beth, which made his gut churn. He had a great job and a family who loved him. Get your shit together, Anderson. “What came up?”

“We have our suspicions that there is a spy in the office.”

Suspicions. His brothers had hovered like mother hens for the first months after his return from Afghanistan, calling him into the office for every little thing to keep him from holing up in his house like he wanted to. They’d let up over the last four or five months. Hopefully, they weren’t back at it. He leaned forward. “Meaning what?”

Michael’s chronic formal demeanor cracked for a moment, and his brow furrowed before he responded a little too loudly. “Meaning exactly what I said.”

Will leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest, studying his uncharacteristically flustered big brother. Maybe this wasn’t just an excuse to get him into the office. “You said ‘suspicions,’ indicating rumor or innuendo, rather than hard evidence.”

“I don’t have any hard evidence.”

“When you call to tell me to dress up like I’m going to a funeral and appear at the snap of your fingers, I assume it’s important.”

Since his return to the States almost a year ago, Will had set up and managed security for all the Anderson family holdings, including this building and their lucrative antiquities brokerage business that occupied the top two floors—a perfect use of his military recon training. The deal he had struck with his brothers on his return was that he would set up the security, train the personnel, and run it remotely from his home on Long Island, only returning to New York City on an as-needed basis. He hated it here. He felt smothered in the city and overwhelmed with dread—just as he had in Afghanistan—like something terrible could be lurking in every alley or around the next corner.

A spy could certainly warrant an in-house visit, but he needed more to go on than a hunch. This could have been done with a phone call. “Suspicions are a waste of my time. That’s what I trained your security team for.”

“Will! Great to see you, man,” a voice called from the doorway.

“Chance! How’s it going?” Will asked, rising and extending his hand. With the exception of a squarer jaw, his little brother looked exactly the same as he had in high school and college. All hard lines and long hair—freedom and rebellion stuffed into a business suit.

Chance shook his hand. “Glad you’re back.”

Will was glad, too. He’d thought the island would bring him some peace, but like shrapnel under the skin, regret made his every move ache.

“Things have gotten kind of weird around here,” his little brother added, pulling him back to the moment.

“So I’ve been told.” Will moved closer to the window and caught a look on his big brother’s face he’d seen hundreds of times before. Incapacitating worry and guilt. Michael had always taken every failure on himself as if he were personally responsible. His father had brought him up to run this company from an early age, and the burden had robbed him of the carefree fun his brothers had experienced as teens. In lots of ways, Will felt sorry for him.

“We could lose millions because of the spy,” Michael continued. “We have to stop the loss immediately. I can’t believe I let this happen.”

“This is not your fault,” Will said. “The company is trading in rare and priceless antiquities, jewelry, and art. It was bound to happen at some point.”

“I should have seen it coming. Prevented it somehow.” Michael leaned back in his huge leather office chair and closed his eyes. “We’ve lost several important deals. If this continues, it will shut us down. And the timing is terrible. I leave for the airport for Greece in three hours.”

That explained the fire under Mikey’s ass. Will relaxed a little. “How long will you be gone?”

“Nine days. A private archaeological team found some unusual pottery. I’m hoping to acquire some of it on behalf of a museum in California. Hopefully, I’ll beat the phantom dealer to it this time.”

Well, that explained the suitcase in the corner. “Why don’t you fill me in on what you know, since you’re on a tight schedule.”

“The broker is an outsider, but he has an operative inside our company. Every deal we’ve lost has been an existing client who contacted us first, then decided to sell to a higher bidder or bypass a scheduled auction, selling instead to an anonymous buyer.”

“That happens all the time.”

“No. They are all well-established Anderson Auctions clients. When I do a follow-up visit, they all have the same story. A woman in her twenties, calling herself Florence Smith, visited them with a proposal from a private collector, represented as a male. She’s been described as blond, brunette, and redheaded. They jump to the conclusion that the woman is working in conjunction with us somehow, though the buyer is presented as outside Anderson Auctions. That’s pretty much all I know.”

“That’s not much. We have quite a few employees. A female narrows it, but not enough. It could be a male employee’s cohort. What else do you know?”

“Not much.”

“I have the file in my office,” Chance said, striding to the door. “I have an appraisal to review and certify by noon and two new contracts to fire out, but I’ll have my secretary bring it up to you, Will. Want to meet up for lunch?”

“Sure.”

“Great. We can discuss the file and catch up on what you’ve been up to.”

Feeling sorry for himself, that’s what he’d been up to. And twisted as it was, he was charged up a bit by the security breach at his family’s business. He enjoyed running the security for Anderson Enterprises’ holdings, but sometimes it seemed too routine. Tracking down the company spy was the most exciting thing to come his way in a while—well, that and the blonde in the pink thong with the ripped skirt. Now, there was an interrogation he wouldn’t mind…maybe it could include a thorough body search. His own body came to life at the image. Shit, where did that come from? He hadn’t had thoughts like that in ages.

Michael cleared his throat. “You okay? You have an odd look on your face.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. So, you want me to find out who she is and fire her.”

His brother shook his head. “I really want the bigger fish. I need you to get hard evidence she’s the spy and figure out who she’s working with.”

Now it was really getting interesting. He loved this kind of shit. Too bad it was Michael’s pet auction business, and not one of the other Anderson endeavors being affected—all the more reason to find the spy quickly. He ran a hand over his short hair. “I’ll need the company personnel files.”

“You’ll have to talk to Beverly.”

“Dear old Beverly Higgins. How is she?”

“Mean as hell.”

Will laughed. “ Some things never change. How is the spy accessing the accounts?”

“I have no idea, but they’re all recent deals coming in with established clients. Nothing intercepted has been under contract, so no laws have been broken. She’s very smart.”

“Are you logging the client information or the object descriptions online somewhere?”

“The only people other than me with access to the items considered for auction are Chance, editorial, and Mildred, of course. None of the financial data or private client information is accessible to anyone but Chance and me.”

Will returned to his chair and tapped his fingers on the desk. There was no way Mildred was tipping anyone off. She’d been with the company from the time their dad began it and was completely loyal. Michael and Chance were the only ones with access to client info, which meant it had to be the material distributed to editorial regarding the auction items themselves.

Will slid off his tie and shoved it in his front pocket. “I need access to your office while you’re gone. I also need the files on all deals that have been intercepted by the anonymous dealer and a full description given by the clients of the woman.” He ignored Michael’s scowl as he unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. Formal had never been his thing. “Oh, and I want access to all personnel files.”

Michael smiled. “Yeah, well, you’ll have to fist-fight Mrs. Higgins for those.”

He was glad to see his brother’s mood lift. “Good thing I’m trained in hand-to-hand combat. Besides, Beverly could never say no to me. Just let her know I need them so she can’t say the top boss man didn’t authorize it.”

“I’ll shoot an email to her. You want to crash at my apartment since it’s closer than your house?”

He unbuttoned the next two buttons of his shirt. “No. I’m sleeping right here.”

“That’s not necessary. You’ll be more comfortable at my place.”

Comfortable. Will almost laughed. He had slept in bombed-out buildings, all-terrain vehicles, and the middle of the desert for years. A sofa was like a resort. “You go to Greece and make a deal. I’ll stay here and catch a spy.”

…

Claire heaved a relieved sigh as she settled into her desk chair. When Beverly the Beast had seen her come in late, she was sure she’d be fired but only got chewed out for irresponsible behavior. Maybe the old bat was chill because she knew Claire was only a temporary employee.

Beverly seemed much more disturbed by an email she received during their brief meeting that resulted in her shouting at her secretary to pull all personnel files. So disturbed, in fact, she simply sent Claire off with a stack of printed pages and the brusque command, “Fix this.” She knew her friend Heather was on friendly terms with Higgins the Hag and dealt with her a lot through the placement agency, but she just didn’t understand the appeal.

Through her open office door, Claire had a view of the lobby. It was a huge open space where the company sometimes held parties and even a smaller auction now and then. This morning, it held only a couple of antique settees and a table with a floral arrangement the size of a small car. Beyond that was a set of mahogany double doors. It was the office of Michael Anderson. Everyone seemed intimidated by him, but she’d never spoken to the man herself. His younger brother, Chance, was the company lawyer and worked on the floor below. He seemed nice enough the couple of times she’d run into him in the lobby or elevator. She had known there was a third brother who had returned from fighting overseas recently, but she’d never seen him until today, and holy crap what an eyeful he was. Her face grew warm when she pictured him in the elevator. Big and hot and… God, what a fiasco. Happy Monday.

Her own office was sparse, but everything in it was high-quality and efficient. She hadn’t bothered to give it a personal touch because, really, why bother? She’d be leaving for Egypt in a couple of weeks.

She thumbed through the documents on her desk and flicked the mouse to wake the computer up for her mindless chore. She’d been tasked with proofing and editing copy for sales brochures—a no-brainer task that would keep her distracted from the miserable events at the hospice last month.

She ran her fingers across the lent jacket lapel and took a deep breath, smiling as the smell of mint and something unmistakably masculine and delicious flooded through her. Yeah, editing this brochure could be a distraction from lots of things, like the tall, impossibly hot guy in the elevator who may or may not have seen her nearly naked butt when her skirt ripped. She took a deep breath and shifted in her chair.

At least the skirt had been an easy fix. It had torn cleanly down the seam. Nothing a little packing tape from the mailroom didn’t solve. From the outside, it looked perfect. From the inside, it was barely held together by whatever means available. She choked out a laugh. She was sitting on a metaphor for her life.

After opening a new document on the computer, she began entering the information on the item listed. Ugh. Whoever wrote the description was clueless. Run-on sentences, spelling errors—what a mess. She shook her head and dug in, relieved to be absorbed in something other than illness and death and screams of pain in the middle of the night. The screen blurred as tears filled her eyes. She missed her grandmother, Sissy, like crazy, but at least her suffering was over. Claire took a deep, shuddering breath. It was time to move on. As soon as that life insurance money hit her bank account, she was out of here and off to finally see the part of the world she’d studied and fantasized about her whole life. Then she’d begin living out the rest of her dream as an intern at the Cairo Museum under her favorite professor, Dr. Jahi. If things went as planned, she’d never come back to New York. Ever.

Glancing up, she caught sight of Will Anderson emerging from the double doors across the enormous lobby. Before he’d made more than six long, confident strides, Higgins the Hag headed him off and turned over a stack of files. He then disappeared back through the double doors. At least she knew where to find him to return his coat.

An hour or so later, movement drew her eye to the set of doors across the lobby again. Will backed through the threshold, his attention held by something or someone inside.

Mmm. What a fantastic view. Wide shoulders, trim waist, and yum, the way those pants fit over his tight…

He turned suddenly, and piercing blue eyes met hers as if he’d read her thoughts or something. One dark eyebrow arched and he smiled, confirming he knew she’d been checking him out.

Well, shit. Totally busted. She returned his smile in a failed attempt at nonchalance, then pretended to go back to work, eyes glued to her monitor. The words on the screen might as well have been in Greek, as her body responded to the man who’d smiled from across the lobby with a jolt of adrenaline that made her clothes feel too heavy and tight. What on earth was going on? Maybe being on her own for the first time was affecting her sense of reason—or jump-starting her hormones. “Do not look at him,” she muttered under her breath.

“Why not?”

Shit, shit, shit. How had he sneaked up so silently? A big man like that should lumber like a bear, not slink soundlessly.

She took a deep breath, eyes still fixed on the screen. This was embarrassing, not fatal. Since Claire-isms were a constant of her everyday life, she’d grown a thick skin and tended to simply own her mistakes outright. “Because, Mr. Anderson, I need to be looking at the computer monitor, not you. This description has to be edited by lunch.”

He leaned against her doorframe, seeming surprised by her honesty. And intrigued. He studied her for a beat, as though making up his mind about something, and then nodded slightly. “Well, I have the perfect solution. Look at your monitor until lunch, then look at me during lunch.”

Had he just asked her out? He was her boss or something. Surely there was a rule against this. And that alone made her want to accept—to finally break a rule and do something irresponsible, unexpected, or forbidden.

Her pulse stuttered. Yes. She wanted to say yes, and he knew it. A satisfied smile stretched his mouth, and Claire realized she was way out of her depth. Why would he want to go out to lunch with her? He could have anyone he crooked his finger at…

No. She needed to say no. She must have heard him wrong or was reading too much into his offer. Maybe he planned to meet in the lunchroom where most of the employees ate together, and he hadn’t meant that the way it sounded. Besides, he didn’t strike her as a total loser, and that’s pretty much all she seemed to attract.

The photo of the urn she was staring at was reduced to a blur as every molecule in her screamed for her to meet his gaze. Dammit! Pull yourself together, Claire. This is not the time and place to begin crushing on someone—and certainly not him. Still, she couldn’t help meeting his eyes. Her heart beat faster and her whole body tightened under his intense stare.

“I’ll take that as a yes to my lunch offer.” At her sharp intake of air, his smile broadened. “The jacket is a nice look for you,” he said.

She slid it off her shoulders. “Oh, yeah. Thanks for the loan. I fixed the tear in my skirt, so I don’t need it anymore.” Carefully, she folded it in half and held it out to him.

He stepped closer and her pulse stuttered like a pinball machine. He reached out and took the coat from her, brushing her arm in the process. “My job for years was to cover people’s asses. Never before has the job been so pleasant.”

Blood rushed to her face in a hot wave. Yeah. Way out of her depth. “Listen, about lunch. I don’t think it’s a good idea, but thanks anyway, Mr. Anderson.”

“Please call me Will, and I think it’s a great idea. The best idea I’ve had in a long time.”

She shook her head, not knowing what to say. He terrified her—not in a bad way, but just from the unnatural pull she felt toward him. He seemed too good to be true, and Claire had learned a long time ago—that kind of luck wasn’t meant for her.

“Are you married?” he asked.

She shook her head again and continued shaking it as he ran through several more options.

“Engaged? Attached? Committed to? Living with? …No?” He snapped his fingers. “Ah! Living without. Perhaps men aren’t your thing?”

That caused her to gasp, and the blush burned all the way over her scalp. “No, no. It’s—”

“Good.” He folded the jacket over the back of a chair facing her desk, the hint of a smile teasing the corners of his eyes again. “Because in all my years of covering people’s asses, yours is by far the best I’ve ever covered. And I want to take the both of you out for lunch.”

How could she say no to that? Um. Like this. “Thanks. Both my backside and I are flattered, but we can’t.”

“Perhaps you should let it speak for itself.”

God, his grin was gorgeous. And he was funny. She needed funny. She needed a lot of things, but this had disaster written all over it. Temp job or not, she was placed here by her best friend and he was her boss, for Pete’s sake. “Sorry. It’s shy.”

“That’s a shame. I was hoping to get to know both of you much better. Maybe get on a first-name basis.”

Holy crap, he had a dirty mouth and mind. She fought the urge to shift in her chair and relieve the ache traveling through her body. She’d never encountered a man this straightforward. She loved it.

Her eyes traveled from her monitor and landed on a vee of tanned skin exposed by his partially opened dress shirt. He’d seemed out of his element in a coat and tie. This, though still not quite right, was much better. Her eyes paused momentarily on his lips, and when his smile broadened, her gaze jerked to his eyes. Busted again.

“You want to say yes,” he whispered and leaned closer from across her desk. “Both of you do. Both of you should.”

Holy freaking shit. She remained stone-still as he placed his palms on her desk and leaned even closer, sending shivers down her spine. There was that smell again—mint and man. And breathing it in made her a little dizzy. She held her breath as he spoke. “I survived against all odds for two tours because of my uncanny instinct to read people. I’m pretty sure I read this correctly, Claire Maddox. I certainly hope I did.”

And right before she turned into a puddle of mush, he backed away. “I’m across the lobby if you get hungry.”

“I already have lunch plans,” she muttered halfheartedly, hoping Heather was free so she wouldn’t get caught in a total lie.

“You could always cancel and join me instead,” he said with a wink.

Claire was sure she’d used up half of her heart’s lifetime quota of beats by the time he sauntered out of her office and across the lobby, disappearing behind the mahogany double doors. He’d known her name. She was sure she hadn’t introduced herself on the elevator—perhaps her backside had. She chuckled at his silly sense of humor, then noticed he’d left the jacket. God, how she wanted to go slip it back on and surround herself with his intoxicating scent, but she took a deep, calming breath instead.

It was a good thing he left when he did or one of two things would have happened: one, Claire would have died on the spot from sheer lust overload, or two, she would have climbed over the desk to see if the seam on his pants was as easy to rip as the one on her skirt had been.

She leaned back in her chair and sighed, unsure if she should curse her friend Heather for placing her in this job, or thank her.

Chapter Three

Will cursed and adjusted himself under the restaurant table. When he’d seen Claire Maddox leave for lunch, it was all he could do to not follow her. Instead, he’d watched her leave the building on his security monitor and gritted his teeth as he wondered who she was meeting.

When he’d looked across the lobby that morning and discovered the little blonde from the elevator checking him out, he couldn’t simply ignore it. He couldn’t get the image of her pink-thong-clad body out of his mind. And then there was her face. Fine, angular features and huge hazel eyes, and she had a great sense of humor, too. A triple threat: body, brains, and personality.

Back at the office, he’d only planned to chat briefly with her and collect his jacket. He hadn’t intended to ask her out, but for some reason, he couldn’t stop himself—his brain and body shifted to autopilot. She made him laugh, and that was something he hadn’t had occasion to do in a long, long while.

He scanned the restaurant again for signs of his brother. Where was Chance anyway?

Cursing, he pulled the file out of his briefcase next to him in the booth. Might as well not waste time. The sooner he solved this, the better. He flipped open the file and reread the description of the woman who’d intercepted the lost deals, then skimmed through the employee files of the women at Anderson Auctions who might remotely fit the description. Claire Maddox, his blonde from the elevator, seemed like the prime candidate for the spy. The person intercepting deals was described as petite woman in her mid to late twenties with a fantastic knowledge of antiques who called herself Flo. Hair and eye color varied, but wigs were easy to come by, as were temp hair dyes and colored contacts. The only other employee in the editorial department who fit the age and size of the spy was Mallory White. And though pretty in a wet dream sort of way, Mallory couldn’t possibly hold down the appearance of a savvy antiquities broker intermediary. And after a brief conversation with her this morning, he was certain she couldn’t pull it off intellectually, either.

Despite his doubts, all evidence pointed to Claire. And that really pissed him off. Why did it matter so much? Because she had a great ass and he wanted a piece of it? Was he really that pathetic?

No. It was the girl herself. She was different.

And she’d been insanely honest, even to her great embarrassment.

He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, playing their conversation over in his head. She was different and smart. Smart enough to carry off a slick game of corporate espionage, but she didn’t seem like the type. Surely his instincts weren’t that far off.

It was an odd coincidence though, that a woman matching the exact description of the woman poaching their clients just happened to get a job at Anderson Auctions around the same time the deals started being intercepted.

What hung him up most was the lack of information in Claire’s personnel file. She had come from a temp agency they used often, but nothing personal was in her file. Only education and date of birth. No work experience or reference letters. Not even a fucking address, like she’d come out of nowhere.

Damn if that wasn’t right. She came out of nowhere like a two-by-four against the skull, knocking all common sense out of him and turning him into a walking woody.

He sat up and grabbed his cell phone from under his menu. Jim would be able to dig up something on her to prove she wasn’t the spy. He texted his longtime buddy and former CIA agent the info on a Miss Claire Elaine Maddox. Twenty-five years old, single, master’s degree in history with a focus in ancient civilizations from a prestigious New York university—a seemingly perfect match for their spy.

And hot as hell. Take those smart wire-rimmed glasses off and let that hair down and damn. Once more, he pictured the reflection in the elevator door of her hot-pink lace thong flossing her perfectly formed ass. He groaned and adjusted himself again. Welcome back to New York City, brother. Have we got a case for you—a case of blue balls.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Chance said, sliding into the booth opposite him. “I was looking over the original agreement between Anderson Auctions and Elite Placement Agency, which, by the way, is owned by a Heather Larksay, who Mrs. Higgins says is first-rate. This recent temp is evidently a personal friend of Larksay and came with a ringing endorsement.”

That might explain the incomplete personnel file. Beverly Higgins and the agency owner were tight. Jim would need to pay this Heather Larksay a visit. Will slid a menu across the table. “The contract?”

“Standard, terminable at will.”

After the waitress came by and they ordered burgers, they went through the file on the lost deals together and discussed the conclusion that Will didn’t buy. Most evidence pointed to the new temp, Claire Maddox.

“We should terminate her without cause,” Chance said. “She has no claim for unemployment or wrongful termination since she’s a temp, so even if we’re wrong and she’s not the spy, we’ve not harmed ourselves. Her agency will simply place her somewhere else.”

Will took another bite of burger and shook his head. “Michael wants to find out who she’s working with.” He chased the bite with a swallow of Coke. “Not really liking the Maddox woman for the spy anyway.”

“Why not? Everything points to her.”

Will shrugged and pushed his now-empty plate away. “Just a hunch.”

Chance stared at him for an uncomfortably long time. Will knew what he was thinking—although his hunches were usually right, he had been way, way off with Beth.

“How are you holding up?” his brother asked.

His plate was suddenly interesting. “Fine.”

“Liar.”

Will met his brother’s pale, clear eyes. He was right. He wasn’t fine. Far from it, but there was nothing his brother or anyone else could do about it. Will needed more time. He hadn’t even been back a year yet, hardly long enough to rid his lungs of the sand and his eyes of the crosshair shadows from the scope on his rifle. Not to mention the scars left on his heart. “I’m better.”

Chance nodded. “Okay. Better is good. Have you seen her?”

“Beth?”

“No, the tooth fairy, you asshole.” He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Beth. I’m worried about you. Don’t make me fish for information.”

“The last time I saw her face-to-face was when I was deployed for the last time. It’s been over two years since then. Eight months since she stood me up at the airport. No, I haven’t seen her. I don’t plan to.” He realized he was almost shouting and took a moment to calm down. On the day his plane was scheduled to land from his last tour of duty, Beth, in her usual socialite fashion, went to the press and ended their engagement publicly, and then didn’t greet him at the airport. The press gobbled up the high-profile breakup. He’d found out he’d been jilted by reading about it in the fucking paper. He would never trust Beth or any woman ever again. Hell, he’d had his whole life planned around her. Giving his heart like that was risky, and the payoff wasn’t worth it. Casual dating was one thing, but he vowed to never have another long-term girlfriend again. And he would never, ever allow himself to fall in love. One broken heart was enough for his lifetime and ten others.

“She’s been asking around about you. I think things didn’t work out with Mr. Wonderful and she’s sniffing around again.”

“She can sniff all she likes, she’ll never take another bite out of me. No woman will again.” He had to change the subject before he lost his cool. “Tell me about the new acquisitions that came in while I was away.”

And while he listened to his brother describe the new pieces he didn’t give a shit about, he decided it was best he stay away from the office for the rest of the day until his obsession with Claire Maddox and her pink thong had ended or was at least under control. Interest this intense was dangerous. Will was all about avoiding danger these days.

…

“I was surprised when you called me,” Heather said, pulling a set of plasticware out of the bin and handing it to Claire. “I hope this doesn’t mean our girls’ night out for tomorrow is canceled.”

“No, I’m still on. I just needed a rescue today.” Oops. Poor word choice.

They moved up in the line as a family got their sandwiches and cleared out in front of them. “And what, pray tell, sweet Claire, did you need me to rescue you from?”

Myself.

“Is Michael Anderson behaving badly?” She wagged her eyebrows. “I hope so.”

Claire ordered her salad and then turned to gawk at her friend. “No. I just needed to get away. I felt cooped up.”

“Oh, sure you did.”

Part of her wanted to tell Heather about Will Anderson, but for some reason, she held back. Talking about her hot, smart, funny, dirty-talking boss would only encourage Heather to push her for more information. She accepted her salad from the girl behind the counter and staked out a table by the window. She needed sunlight. What she really needed was out of this city, but that was happening soon enough. So soon, she could almost taste it.

Heather plopped into the chair across the tiny table and took a huge bite of her corned beef sandwich. The sun made her red curls glow. Claire wished she could have the sassy self-confidence her friend had. Biting back a smile, she remembered her banter with Will Anderson today. She’d been far sassier in those few minutes with him than she’d been in the previous five years combined. He had brought out something in her she’d missed: fun. And she wanted more of it.

No. He was her boss. Her rich, sexy boss, for God’s sake. And way too perfect for someone like her. The Claire-ism potential was way off the scale.

Heather took another bite of sandwich and studied Claire as she chewed. “Okay, so since this surprise lunch isn’t agenda-driven, I guess we’ll talk about business as usual, dammit.”

Claire grinned, glad to fall into a familiar conversation with her best friend…her only friend. “How’s work?”

“Good. Had three new candidates come in this morning. I cleared out my schedule this afternoon, though, because I’m taking Brian to the movie.”

“How’s Brian doing?” Heather hadn’t mentioned her nephew in a while. Claire always marveled at the little boy’s spirit. He was just as friendly now as he was before the chemo started.

“He’s doing good, health-wise.” Heather shook her head. “But his dad lost his job a year ago, as you know. They lost insurance benefits last month. The meds are really expensive. They’re trying to get assistance, but they have to scramble in the meantime.”

“I’m sorry.”

She gave a weak smile. “We’re working it out.”

Claire moved her lettuce around on the plate, finding the cherry tomato she’d seen hiding earlier and popping it in her mouth while Heather poured another sugar into her tea.

“How’s work other than the topic you’re avoiding, specifically the smokin’ hot Anderson brothers?”

“I’m typing up a brochure on some Greek urns. Wanna see?” She pulled up the picture she had sent to her phone. Heather had majored in history and completely geeked out over the stuff coming through the auction house just like she did. In fact, they had met in undergrad in an early civilizations class and had become fast friends over a mutual love of all things Egyptian. Other than a brief gig with a small antiques shop, Heather was unable to get a job with her history degree, so she took over and eventually bought out her sister’s employment agency.

“Nice.” Heather handed the phone back. “Have you started boxing up and selling Sissy’s place?”

Claire stabbed a piece of romaine, then dropped her fork. “I can’t seem to make myself do it. I know I need to put the apartment on the market and move on, but…” Her salad became a blur on her plate. “It’s really hard, you know.”

“Oh, hon.” Heather scooted her chair next to Claire’s with a metallic screech and then wrapped her arm around her shoulder. “It’s time to do something for yourself now. You did nothing but nurse sick people full-time.”

“Not full-time. I got my degrees.”

“Oh, yeah. You left to go to classes a couple of hours a day, four days a week. Big whoop-de-doo. Then you returned home to take care of your grandparents. You’ve taken care of people your whole life, pretty much. It’s time you took care of yourself. Cut free. Do something fun and reckless.”

“Like what?”

“Like get laid.”

Claire choked on the mouthful of water, and covered her mouth and nose with a napkin while Heather laughed.

“I’m serious. How long has it been? You haven’t dated anyone since that asshole Eric.”

It had been over a year, but until she laid eyes on hunky Will Anderson, her abstinence hadn’t even crossed her mind. Well, the sorry state of her nonexistent sex life was front and center now, which was why she was hiding in a deli with Heather, rather than eating lunch in the office like she usually did. One more close encounter with Will, and she’d be ripping her skirt seam on purpose.

“Are you still scheduled to leave for Egypt in two weeks? Have you packed yet?”

“That won’t take long. It makes no difference whether it’s a month or a year, I’ll only take what I can carry at one time by myself. I’m still waiting on the money and my passport.”

Heather moved her chair back around to face her. “I still can’t get over the size of the life insurance policy Sissy left you. It makes me feel a little better about you throwing your prime years away.”

“I didn’t throw anything away. I would have cared for Grandpa and Sissy for nothing. In fact, I didn’t even know about the money until the will was probated.”

“I bet that was a shock.” Heather made a squeaking sound. “You’ll be rich.”

And completely alone. “Yeah.”

Heather glanced at her phone. “Oh, shit. I have a one o’clock appointment. Gotta go.” She kissed her on the cheek, gathered her bag, and headed out the door like she’d been lit on fire. Heather never did anything halfway.

People on the street passed outside the deli window in a blur as Claire stared into space and fiddled with her salad. Maybe Heather was right. Maybe she needed to do something fun and reckless for once. And maybe, just maybe, that fun and reckless thing should involve her new, hotter-than-molten-lava boss, William Anderson.

She sighed at the mortifying level of Claire-ism potential that held. So many things could go wrong, and she couldn’t afford to leave this job until the life insurance policy paid out. She had bills to pay. Nope. Not going to happen. Always-responsible Claire would remain…responsible.

Chapter Four

Claire’s Tuesday-morning commute was as uneventful as her Will-free Monday afternoon had been. For the first time, she’d arrived on time with no Claire-isms at all. Not even her usual tripping over her own feet as she descended the stairs to the subway. And she hoped, as she slipped behind her desk with time to spare, it wasn’t the sign that a real doozy of a Claire-ism was on the way.

She glanced through her open door at the mahogany entrance to the office across the lobby. The older secretary, Mildred something-or-other, knocked, then entered carrying a large blue coffee mug. It was Michael Anderson’s office, but it was also Will’s home base yesterday morning before he disappeared. Her heart beat a little harder at the thought that he might be in the building. Maybe she should close her door and try to push him out of her mind. Yes. That was a sound plan. Stop spying on the office across the hall and put an end to the mental shenanigans centered on Will Anderson. God knew she’d had plenty of that in her sleep last night. Every dream featured him, and man, what a show her subconscious had put on. Her entire body heated just remembering it.

“Stop thinking about him,” she scolded herself as she crossed her small office to close the door right as those across the lobby opened, revealing a rumpled and more-than-sexy Will Anderson holding the blue coffee mug. God, he looked like he’d stepped right out of last night’s dreams and into the lobby.

Like a deer in the headlights, she froze. So did he. And for a long, odd moment, they simply stared at each other. If attraction could be made tangible, the entire lobby would have crackled with lightning bolts. And then, it would have ended with a sonic blast because he gave her the biggest, sexiest dimpled grin imaginable. A jolt of lust shot straight from her navel to every part of her body, even her freaking toes.

“Ka-boom,” she whispered as she closed the door. So much for a Claire-ism free morning.

…

What the hell was that? Will wondered, heart like a jackhammer pounding in his chest. He stared at Claire’s closed office door and shook his head to clear it. It had been like a scene from one of those silly animated movies where the animals sing and the world melts away while the loving couple make goo-goo eyes. Thank God Michael was out of town and Chance hadn’t made it in yet. If they’d seen it, he’d never live it down. He took a swallow of coffee and shook his head again. His mission was to uncover a spy, and here he was lusting over the number one suspect. Not good.

After another cup of coffee and a shower and shave in Michael’s executive bathroom, Will put on some fresh clothes he’d picked up from home yesterday afternoon and went to the small Anderson security office on the floor below to study the video footage from the past three weeks. It irritated him that the first thing he had done when exiting Michael’s office was check out Claire’s office to see if he could get a glimpse of her. It irritated him even more that he was disappointed her door was still closed.

After several hours poring over security video, Will found nothing out of the ordinary. He looked at his watch. Based on the video footage, Claire Maddox left her office about this time for her lunch break. He stared at the monitor that caught most of the lobby, including her office door. After several minutes, she exited her office, pausing for a moment and staring toward Michael’s office door, then turned right, away from the lobby.

Even seeing her in black and white on a small monitor caused his body to react. This would trouble him in an ordinary situation, but it was maddening since she was a focus of his investigation. Will had learned to trust his gut in the military, and everything in him rebelled against the notion she was the spy. He had to trust that feeling, and he did. He was convinced Claire was innocent. Sure, she had some missing pieces in her personnel file, but so could just about anyone in a temp position, especially being the agency owner’s friend. She’d likely never held down a long-term job since graduating from college.

She disappeared from view on his screen, then appeared in the next as she made her way down the hallway to the lunchroom. But instead of walking to the end of the hall, she looked around as if making sure nobody was watching, then slipped inside the file room, shutting the door behind her.

Will held his breath and studied the screen feeding from the file room. The camera was trained on the back of the space where the important, locked files and the vault doors were located. Claire was not in the camera’s line of vision. What the hell was a temp doing in the file room? None of her job duties would involve business in that area.

His stomach twisted for a moment as he watched the screen. Still, nothing. It was like she had disappeared. He bolted from the office to the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time. Surely his instincts weren’t that far off. Claire had seemed so straightforward and real. But then, so had Beth… He marched ahead and yanked open the door to the file room.

Her startled hazel eyes met his, and she gasped. Instead of catching her riffling though files, he found her eating yogurt and a sandwich at the table right inside the door.

What a relief. She was doing nothing wrong. Weird, but not wrong.

“The lunchroom is two doors down,” he said, controlling his breathing so she wouldn’t know he’d sprinted up here like an idiot.

She wrapped up her sandwich and threw her purse strap over her shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I guess I’m not supposed to have food in here. I just wanted some privacy. Beverly always comes in when I’m in my office.”

He closed the door quietly behind him, trying not to spook her any more than he already had with his guns-blazing entry. God, he felt like a dick. “It’s fine.” He noticed her eyes flit to the door behind him. “Do you want me to open it? I closed it because you did and I assumed you didn’t want anyone else in the office knowing you were in here eating.”

She placed the sandwich back on the table and unwrapped it. “I’m good either way.”

He slid into the chair opposite her. She made no move to resume her lunch. Instead, she kept her eyes on her sandwich, which gave him the opportunity to openly stare at her. Her gold hair reminded him of midday sunshine. Not the rays from hell like he endured in the desert—but the kind of sunshine that made him want to close his eyes and tilt his head back to get more of it. More of her was exactly what he wanted, which was troubling on several fronts, both personal and professional. Still, despite the best logic in the world telling him to back down, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Just like yesterday in her office, he was at war with himself.

The only indication of her state of mind was the twitching of her pinky fingers. She was uncomfortable. Well, of course she was—he’d really fucked up, not only by blasting in here and startling her, but by pushing her so hard in her office yesterday. “Look, Claire. I’m sorry I came on so strong yesterday. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Her eyes met his. “I liked it,” she said, barely above a whisper. She smoothed the paper flat around her sandwich. “Loved it, actually.”

The breathy sound of her voice made his whole body stand at attention before his brain even had time to process her words. I liked it. He’d liked it, too. He leaned back in his chair and exhaled slowly. He hadn’t blown it after all. There was that honesty again. He was attracted to this quality about her even more than her ass, and her ass was pretty fucking spectacular. “Yet you turned down my offer for lunch.”

A slight smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Yes, and all other things implied.”

“Why?”

“Fear.”

“Of?”

“Everything.” She fiddled with the corner of the sandwich wrapper.

That was a completely unexpected exchange. Raw and real, but a little too vague. They were right on the edge of something, teetering before either pulling back or falling off completely. He remained still, hoping she’d go on without prompting.

“Do you want some of this sandwich?” she asked, pushing her glasses up on her nose.

“Sure.”

After placing both halves on one side, she ripped the wrapper in half, then put part of the sandwich on it and slid it to him.

Still, he sat silently and waited. She seemed to want to tell him more but didn’t know how. He had seen this dozens of times with the men in his unit. Honesty needed to be given, not forced. Sometimes, though, it could be coaxed. “You were talking about fear,” he prompted before digging into the sandwich. The fact that she wasn’t trying to get rid of him, knowing he was one of the owners of the company, boded well for her innocence. No way was this girl the spy.

She took a bite and chewed for a moment before answering. “Yeah. Well, I’ve taken care of people my whole life, pretty much. Now all those people are gone. For the first time ever, I’m free.”

“So you turned down my offer for lunch because…?”

Her eyes shot up to his. “Because I’d reached my all-time record number of Claire-isms for the day and the earth might have exploded if I committed another.”

“Claire-ism?”

She ate a bite of yogurt and nodded. “Yeah. When something goes massively wrong or especially when something is embarrassing, my friend Heather calls it a Claire-ism. I’m forever doing odd or embarrassing things.”

“Your skirt ripping was a Claire-ism.”

“A prime example. So was spilling my purse.”

He nodded. “So how does that relate to my lunch offer?”

“That had massive Claire-ism potential.”

He smiled—he found himself doing that constantly around her—and took another bite of the roast beef sandwich. “In what regard?”

“In every regard. First, I wasn’t sure you meant it. Second, I would have done something awkward. Third, it made no sense.” She dipped her spoon in the yogurt, and he watched her pull the utensil between her lips.

He leaned closer, staring at her full mouth before reluctantly dragging his gaze back to her deep hazel eyes. “First, I meant it. Really meant it.” Her breath caught, and she blinked slowly. “Second,” he said, leaning even closer—close enough to smell something floral, perhaps her shampoo, “something that you consider awkward, I might like. Take the ripped skirt for example—I liked that a lot.” A blush crept up her neck and over her face. “And as for not making sense…” He leaned back in his chair. “Go out to dinner with me so I can show you how much sense it makes.” She remained silent, but her eyes never left his. “Say yes,” he prompted, surprised at how badly he wanted her to agree.

Still no answer, but a faint smile curved her lips and she looked away. Good. She was considering it. She balled up her sandwich wrapper, and put it, along with her plastic spoon and empty yogurt cup, into a paper bag. When she stood, he did, too, holding his breath in anticipation.

“Yes.” She met his eyes and her smile broadened. “Yes. I’d like that.”

Nothing about this woman was guarded or deceptive. No way was she the spy. “Excellent. So, how about tonight at eight?”

…

Claire couldn’t believe this was happening. Gorgeous men never asked her out. Never. Yet, here was William Anderson inviting her to dinner. It took everything in her not to jump up and down, pumping her fist in the air. In her buzzy haze, it sounded like a great idea. Screw responsibility, her body cheered, but then she stilled as a wave of disappointment flooded her. She had her Tuesday girls’ night out with Heather. They met twice a week for drinks now that Claire was no longer tied down. “I can’t. I already have plans.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “That’s too bad.”

No shit.

“Tomorrow?”

Everything in her wanted to say yes, but it was just too good to be true. A man this important and desirable would never seek her out like this. Something was off. “So, do you do this often?”

“What?”

“Ask women from the office out?”

“I don’t ask anyone out. I don’t date…well, I haven’t in a long time anyway.” He took several steps closer. Near enough to touch, but he didn’t. “But I want to go out with you, Claire.”

Heather had told her to do something reckless. Going out with William Anderson was as reckless as jumping the Grand Canyon on a motorcycle. Just having him this near made her knees go weak. “Yes,” she whispered in spite of her misgivings.

Will’s phone buzzed in his back pocket and he took a step back. “Sorry.” His smile faded as he stared at his screen, then a less genuine one replaced it when he shoved the phone back in his pocket. “We’ll leave from here and catch a bite somewhere casual close by. Will that work?”

She nodded, and was relieved when the warmth entered his eyes again. He moved closer and ran his fingertips down her arm. Such a gentle touch, but her entire body hummed to life. “See you tomorrow.” He gave her one last dimpled grin, grabbed his sandwich wrapper, and left the room.

Gasping for breath, she slumped against the table. Holy shit. She was going on a date with the hottest man she’d ever seen who made her lose her mind with a simple touch. How in the world could she go back to editing descriptions of Greek pottery? She straightened and gathered her purse. “How’s that for reckless, Heather?”

Chapter Five

Will sat back in Michael’s desk chair and stared at the text again. Drinks tonight?

When it came in while he was in the file room with Claire, he assumed it was Jim getting back to him about his findings. Instead, it was Suzanne Elliot, a socialite who ran in Beth’s circles—and his, too, if he ran at all, which he didn’t anymore.

He’d bumped into Suzanne on his way into the building day before yesterday. It had been good to see a friend from college, and he thought nothing of exchanging numbers as a nicety. He’d never expected her to actually contact him. So much for expectations.

What was he supposed to do? He was free tonight because Claire was going out with someone else. What harm could it do to meet an old acquaintance for drinks? Hell, it might even be fun. He’d make it someplace close and keep it short and sweet. At least his brothers would quit hassling him about being a hermit.

How about Georgio’s at 5:30? he texted back. There. Early and close.

Her response was immediate. Fabulous. Can’t wait to catch up.

Fabulous…

“Hey!” Chance said, peeking in the doorway. “A client from a few years ago just called. He’s selling off some stuff. Michael is going to be stoked.” His brother had the trademark Anderson dimples, which showed up when he grinned like he was now. He was wiry and thin like Michael, but despite his quiet demeanor, he managed to look like a badass even in the suit and tie. Perhaps it was his longer hair or his eight-billionth-degree black belt in karate or whatever he was now.

Their mom had labeled the Anderson brothers from early childhood. Michael was the serious one, William was trustworthy and dependable, and baby Chance was the sensitive artist. Will had always half expected Chance to spin off into all kinds of craziness, but it had never happened. He was probably the best-looking of the three brothers, and girls had always followed him around like puppies. With the exception of a few dates here and there, he just didn’t seem interested, which unlike the dimples, was not an Anderson brother trait.

Since his return from duty, Will usually preferred to be alone, but something had shifted today and being alone tonight didn’t appeal. He hoped it wasn’t a bad thing. “You doing anything later tonight?” Maybe they could meet up after he had a drink with Suzanne.

“I’m stuck here for a while. Plan to order takeout at five if you want to join in. I have a sparring match at eight, but have to finish Polly Guidry’s contract first.”

Well, that effectively took Chance out of play tonight unless he wanted to go to the dojo and watch him face off with another ninja type. Will folded up one of his cuffs. God, he hated dress clothes. “Polly… Old Bart’s widow?”

“Yep. She’s selling off a Rembrandt charcoal and three Fabergé pieces. The auction and wine and cheese party is here in the lobby on Thursday. Super small, invitation-only event, so no real security issues for this one.”

“Is she selling stuff off to finance another European luxury tour?” Will’s other cuff received the same treatment as the first.

“Nope. She’s gone cougar. Buying a yacht for her new, younger man.”

“She must be eighty by now.”

“Eighty-one. He’s seventy-four. Love is timeless.” Chance winked and swung his feet back to the floor. “Dinner early here, then?”

“Can’t. Meeting Suzanne Elliot for drinks.”

Chance’s eyes widened. “Suzanne Elliot, as in the model?”

“Yeah. We bumped into each other out front the other day.”

“I remember her from your engagement party. She’s kind of hard to forget.”

She was hard to forget. Tall, leggy, and in the prime of her modeling career four years ago, she’d captured the eye of the tabloids at the engagement party and stolen the limelight, which really pissed Beth off. It was the first real glimpse Will had gotten into Beth’s selfish, darker side. Sadly, it wasn’t the last.

“Wow. Suzanne Elliot.” Chance stood and gave him a friendly punch in the shoulder. “Good luck, man.”

For some reason, the inference bothered Will. “We’re just going for drinks. Nothing else.” Shit. He hoped Suzanne didn’t have the idea there would be more. Maybe he should call it off after all.

“You’ve been in the desert too long if you’re really expecting me to buy that.”

“Don’t you have some legalese to interpret somewhere so Polly can give her boy toy a yacht?”

Chance grinned. “Indeed I do.”

…

“Holy shit, girl, what did you do?” Heather broke her breadstick in half and wagged it at Claire. “I got phone calls from Bev the Beast and some dude named Jim asking all kinds of things about you. Did you do Michael Anderson or something?”

“No!” Claire covered her mouth and coughed out the bit of wine she’d just inhaled. “God, no.”

Heather shoved part of the breadstick in her mouth, eyes narrowing. “The little brother, then. The quiet one with the long hair. Shit, I’d do that one, no questions asked.” She dragged the other half of her breadstick in marinara sauce and took a bite. “I bet he’s got a wild streak a mile wide. The quiet ones always do.”

Claire raised her wineglass and took a sip, trying to cover up her panic. It unnerved her that people were calling Heather’s temp agency about her. And who was this Jim guy anyway? No doubt the calls had been triggered by Will Anderson’s puzzling interest in her. Claire didn’t like it. Not one bit.

“I did not…do either of them, Heather. I have no idea why this is happening.”

“Liar.” Heather cocked her head, then pointed at the bowl of marinara. “You are the color of this sauce right now. Spill, girl. I’ve known you too long to be fooled.”

Mercifully, the waiter arrived with their food and rescued her from having to answer. Maybe Heather would be so distracted by her huge bowl of lobster ravioli she’d drop it. The middle-aged man, wearing a white apron past his knees, placed the food in front of them, making a big deal about not touching the hot plates.

“So, who is it?” Heather asked before the waiter was even out of earshot.

Yeah, well, so much for dropping it. Claire took a bite of her minestrone.

“Ignoring me won’t work.” She stabbed ravioli with her fork. “I have my sources in that office, and I’m going to find out sooner or later. Might as well get it over with.”

Even more embarrassing than admitting her attraction to William Anderson would be Heather snooping around and bringing someone else’s attention to it.

“You’re right. You’re probably getting called because I’ve…I’ve had some dealings with one of the brothers.”

“Dealings?” Heather popped the ravioli into her mouth whole, face glowing like she’d won the lottery.

“Nothing serious. It was minor.”

Heather eyed her empty glass, then reached over and chugged some of Claire’s wine. “Nothing with an Anderson is minor. Scoring an Anderson is like spotting a Sasquatch. They are elusive, mysterious, and larger than life—if you know what I mean.” She winked and shoved another ravioli in her mouth. “And I have that last bit on the best authority.”

Good God. Claire was not going there. She’d said all she was going to say.

When her mouth was empty again, Heather leaned closer. “I knew you were bluffing at lunch yesterday. It’s the oldest one, right? I’ve heard he’s fantastic in bed. I have a couple of friends who say Michael Anderson was the best night of their lives.” She leaned even closer. “What did he do? They won’t give me any real specifics. Just vague five-star reviews and dreamy smiles.”

Claire pointed at her face and scowled. “Does this look like a dreamy smile?”

“No.” Heather gasped, then grinned. “Get out! You kissed the youngest brother, Chance? Nobody kisses Chance—well, at least Chance doesn’t kiss them back. Did he kiss you back?” She bounced in her chair and clapped her hands.

“You are way off base and I am not talking about this with you.”

“Well, that only leaves…” Her jaw dropped. “Oh, wow. I’d heard the middle one was back. Did William Anderson kiss you? Because if he did, you are one of the few girls in the world lucky enough to experience a close encounter with those lips.”

Not reacting, she took another bite of soup and waited for Heather to fill in the blanks. For once, she hoped her friend’s snooping and gossip would come in useful for more than entertainment. Maybe she could learn something about the man who made her heart hammer and her knees go weak.

“He dated the same woman forever. They had a huge high-society engagement ball even. I heard she called off the wedding before he came back from wherever the military sent him, but I never found out why.”

Claire stirred her soup.

“So, how was it?” Heather asked.

“Fine. We only talked, for heaven’s sake.”

Heather’s eyebrows shot up, and her lips pulled into that smirk Claire knew so well. “I’m calling bullshit. That guy is walking sex. Hell. If I’d known he was back in play, I’d have taken the position as editor myself. Whatever you did with that man was not ‘fine.’ Now, it might have been fiiiiine.”

It had been more than that, which was the most disturbing aspect of this whole business. She hadn’t even kissed the guy, but she could think of nothing else—which was out of character. Claire, though not worldly compared to someone like Heather, was no wallflower. She had dated in high school and early college before her grandparents got so sick. She even considered marrying Eric until he turned into a controlling asshole. Maybe he’d been one all along, but she hadn’t noticed until he insisted she stop caring for her grandparents because he didn’t like sharing her.

Will didn’t strike her as the controlling type. She sighed. If only he’d come along a couple of years ago. For the first time in her life, her time was her own. She was leaving the country in a few weeks, hopefully forever. No matter who…

Heather snapped her fingers. “Hellooooooo, Claire! We’re talking about important things here, like William Anderson’s lips.”

She grinned. “He only used his lips to talk.”

“What a waste. Are you going to see him? I mean in addition to the office…talk?” She winked.

“Dinner tomorrow.”

“That’s fantastic.” Heather accepted the black check folio from the waiter and lifted it above her head when Claire reached for it.

“Come on and let me cover this one. I owe you dinner for getting me this job to cover expenses until my money comes in and I take off.”

“Nuh-uh. I’m buying dinner as a bribe for more info. A lot can happen between a man and woman in two weeks.” She pitched her credit card into the black folder and handed it back to the waiter. “Consider this prepayment for vicarious enjoyment of your future ‘dealings’ with William Anderson.” Her mouth went slack as she looked over Claire’s shoulder. “And oh, shit. Speak of the devil.”

Dammit. Claire knew having dinner at the Italian restaurant across from the Anderson Building was a mistake, but she and Heather had met here every week since she’d started working at Anderson Auctions, as the temp agency office was only a few streets away.

Claire gripped the table, forcing herself to not turn around. Instead, she watched Will’s reflection in the glass of a huge black-and-white photo of the New York skyline. He wasn’t alone.

“Oh my God,” Heather whispered. “He’s with that model chick. The tall, black-haired one with the legs for days whose picture was on that billboard at the Astoria station a couple of years ago. You know the one. The ad for those designer jeans with the rhinestones on the ass?”

Claire squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed the lump in her throat. I will not turn around, I will not turn around, I will not turn around.

Will’s reflection slid off the side of the glass as he was seated at a table somewhere behind her.

Heather flagged the waiter down. “Two more glasses of merlot.” She tapped Claire’s arm. “Unless you want something stronger.”

“No. Nothing for me, thank you,” she murmured. Her chest felt too tight to breathe.

The waiter nodded and headed off, and she released her white-knuckle death grip on the edge of the table and slipped her purse from the back of the chair to her lap. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Not unless you want him to see you. So far, he’s looked at nothing but the hot model.”

“So?”

“So, you have to face him at work tomorrow and you have a date. How awkward do you want it to be? Sit still a moment.” Her eyes flitted back to the couple somewhere behind and to the right of Claire. “They refused menus, so they’re probably just having drinks. If they leave first, he won’t know you saw him out with Sparkle Jeans the same day he hit on you.”

“He didn’t hit on me. He asked me out. And the only reason you want me to stay is to see what happens.”

“Damn right, I do. Don’t you?”

“No.”

The waiter delivered Heather’s wine, and Claire buried her face in her hands. Maybe she’d call in sick tomorrow. Hell, she wouldn’t be too far off. Her stomach was about to heave-ho. “I’m not sticking around to see if he scores. Thanks for dinner.” Claire stood, gathered her purse, and without glancing in the direction she knew Will had gone, exited the restaurant.

Chapter Six

Well, shit. Will should’ve known someone from the office would spot him in this restaurant. He just wished it had been someone other than Claire. Anyone but Claire. She hadn’t made eye contact as she’d rushed for the door, but there was no way she’d missed seeing him. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Suzanne cleared her throat. “Earth to William.”

“I’m sorry. Yes, I’ll be in the city for a while.”

She ran her finger around the rim of her glass in a calculated, sensual stroke and met his eyes. “How long?”

From the moment they’d met up, she’d been coming on way too strong. She had no interest whatsoever in just chatting. She had an agenda, and it wasn’t to catch up on old times. “I’m not sure yet.”

She reached across and placed her hand over his. “Well, you’re here tonight, at least.”

This was a terrible idea. He should never have agreed to meet. He shifted in his chair, pulling his hand away from hers, and glanced over at a table occupied by a lone redheaded woman fiddling with her phone. A bowl and an empty wineglass sat abandoned at the place opposite her. The woman met his eyes and grinned. Shit.

“Something wrong?” Suzanne asked, withdrawing her hand from the table.

“No. I’m sorry. I’m a little distracted.” His eyes snapped to hers. She wasn’t wearing the smoldering, seductive look she’d been using on him since they met outside the Anderson Building; it was a sympathetic smile.

“It’s okay, Will. I get it.” She gestured to him, then back to herself. “There’s nothing here. You’re not ready.”

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. She smelled like one of those expensive clothing stores his mom used to drag him to when he was little. “Thanks for the drink.” She collected her purse, rose, and took a few steps toward the door. “Call me if anything changes.”

Suzanne’s tall heels clicked on the tile floor as she sauntered toward the exit, but her practiced gait did nothing for Will. He closed his eyes and pictured Claire scrambling awkwardly to collect the items that had spilled out of her purse on the elevator. And then there was the glimpse of that pink thong through the rip in the back of her skirt. Yep. That did it. He placed his napkin higher on his lap to cover the rising bulge in his pants and took another sip of his drink.

When he glanced to his right, the redhead saluted him with her wineglass, then chugged the contents. He turned to glance out of the restaurant window, see if he could spot Claire anywhere outside, but he was met with a sidewalk full of strangers. Maybe he could find out her companion’s connection to Claire. As he rose to go speak with her, she scooted out the door just as Claire had—as if she’d seen a ghost.

Hell, he was the ghost, sort of. A mere fragment of whom he’d been before… He downed the rest of his drink in one shot and tossed a couple of bills on the table.

His phone dinged as he stepped out of the restaurant. It was the information from Jim on Claire Maddox. He hadn’t gotten a lot of info, but he did have an address. Will typed the address into the maps feature on his phone to double-check. Fuck. What was an hourly-wage temp worker doing living in one of the most expensive properties on the Upper West Side?

…

Claire turned on the water to heat up her bubble bath and pushed down her disappointment. Of course Will Anderson was going out with hot models at night. He was gorgeous, rich, and single. Even if he’d misled her by saying he didn’t date, she had no right to be throwing a pity party. It’s not like she had a claim on him. She wasn’t a victim. She’d simply said yes to dinner. She was an eager and willing participant. Very eager and willing, which was not normal.

Sinking lower in the bubbles, she rolled her neck to release tension. She was leaving the country soon, and should enjoy her last two weeks here to the fullest, right? She should do everything to the fullest from now on. No more pulling back. It was time to explore her long-awaited freedom.

Still, seeing him with the model stung.

From the vanity in the corner, her phone rang and she sank under the water long enough for it to roll over to voicemail. Heather was the only one who would be calling, and Claire didn’t want to talk to her right now. She emerged and wiped her face, only to have her peace and quiet interrupted by her phone again. Leaning back, she closed her eyes. Heather would give up eventually.

Buzz.

Crap. It was the doorman. Nobody ever visited. Not since her grandmother, Sissy, got so sick the last time and refused to see anyone but Claire. Maybe it was another package sent by some family friend of her grandmother’s she’d never met. More chocolate or flowers or bouquets of cookies.

She wrapped up in a towel and dripped across the floor to the antiquated intercom. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry to bother you this late, Miss Maddox,” the doorman’s voice answered through the tiny speaker, “but there’s a man here to see you. He says you’re expecting him.”

No. Freaking. Way. There was no way he’d come here. He had no idea where she lived.

“A Mr. William Anderson.”

She was glad she had released the talk button because a startled gasp erupted from her.

“Shall I send him up?”

Oh, God. She should meet him down in the lobby, not let him come up to her apartment. Shaking, she pushed the button. “No…?” Shit, that came out like a question. “No,” she said more forcefully. But then she imagined Will and her having an awkward discussion about Sparkle Jeans in front of the doorman and quickly changed her mind. She pressed the button again. “Um. Yes. Tell him to come up, but give me ten minutes please.”

She stared at the speaker for a moment, and when the doorman didn’t respond, she decided that silence was affirmation.

Right. Get dressed. See what he has to say. Send him away. Three easy steps to peace of mind and no additions to the daily Claire-ism tally.

She trotted back to the bathroom, nearly slipping on the trail of water she’d left behind. She ran a brush through her dripping hair and wrapped another towel around it to dry it out. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and shook her head. No makeup, wet hair. Could it be worse?

Knock, knock, knock.

Yes, it could. What did he do, vault up the damn stairs like Superman? She snatched her bathrobe off the hook on the door and pulled it on. The silky fabric stuck to her wet shoulders. She leaned over and untwisted the towel from her hair.

Knock, knock.

“Give me a minute,” she called, straightening up and giving herself a head rush. That had sounded really pissy. So what? It was an odd time to just drop by. He was supposed to wait in the lobby for ten minutes before coming up.

She strode to the door, catching the back of a chair for support as she slipped on the water from before.

Knock, knock, knock.

“I said, hold on!” She jerked the door open to find Will right outside with a smile on his face. Dang. Those dimples. Claire gritted her teeth. She was supposed to be mad.

All manner of pissy remarks about intruding on her privacy popped through her head, but just the sight of him made them wither. Instead of a pithy greeting, she just stood there, staring at the big, handsome man filling her doorway.

…

Will knew he shouldn’t have surprise-attacked her like that, but he wanted to see her. No. He had to see her and clear up the unfortunate occurrence at the restaurant. And then it dawned on him maybe she wasn’t alone. Shit. He looked past her into the apartment, but saw no signs of anyone else. “Did I interrupt something?”

“A bath.”

She looked fantastic in the bathrobe with her wet hair dripping on the floor. Delicious. He placed a hand on the doorframe and leaned closer. “Alone?” God, he hoped so.

“How was your date?”

“It wasn’t a date.”

“What do you want, Mr. Anderson?”

Well, there was some ice water in all the wrong places. The use of his formal name caused his stomach to churn. He’d overstepped the boundaries. “I wanted to talk to you. I told you I don’t date, and that’s true. You are the first woman I’ve asked out in over eight months. I just wanted you to know that.”

Completely flustered, she shifted her weight from foot to foot and looked over her shoulder into her apartment. “Well, you caught me at a really bad time.”

His brow furrowed. This was a nightmare. He’d interrupted…something. His chest filled with a concoction of guilt and jealousy—both volatile alone, but immobilizing together. “You’re not alone. I didn’t mean to…” God, what a fuckup he was. Of course a beautiful woman like this wouldn’t be sitting home alone. He took a step back. “I’m really sorry. I’ll just talk to you tomorrow. Good night.”

He took off toward the elevator. He should never have done something this impulsive. He didn’t really even know why he had come here uninvited other than the moth-to-the-flame syndrome he’d acquired since meeting her—he just couldn’t keep his mind, or his body for that matter, away from her. He pushed the button and was relieved the car was still on the floor and the door slid open right away. He stepped inside, and his eyes met hers.

“Wait! Will, stop.”

He pushed his hand against the black plastic gasket inside the door and it stopped with a jerk, then slid back open. He held his breath, hoping he hadn’t really blown it by coming here.

Clutching the front of her robe shut, she stood completely still. “Don’t go. You surprised me, that’s all. Please, come in.” She shrugged in a fragile, helpless sort of gesture. “I’m actually glad you’re here.”

He stood there frozen a moment, processing her words. A flood of relief washed through him in addition to something else that bordered on pain right behind his sternum. She said she was glad he was there. When was the last time someone other than his family had said that? He stepped out into the hallway and the elevator slid shut silently behind him.

Something was happening between them. Something he felt, but couldn’t identify with words, that caused his insides to churn and his chest to ache.

“I’m alone,” she said, gesturing to the apartment.

He stopped within a foot of her. “So am I.” He’d never felt more alone in his life, and for some reason, this woman presented a lifeline—the first one he’d had since Afghanistan.

“We both are,” she said so softly he barely heard it. But he felt it. All the way down into his soul, he felt it.

After following her into the apartment, he leaned against the closed door, and to his surprise, she reached out and touched him. He held his breath as she ran her fingers across his jawline and then traced his lips. He needed this so badly. Not just to be touched, but to be touched by her.

Entwining his fingers through hers, he met her heated gaze. Shit. This was not what he’d intended when he came in here, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. She remained just far enough away to not touch him anywhere, but she made no move to free her hand.

Will fought the urge to pull her against him and kiss her. She stepped all the way in so that her feet were between his and her body pressed fully against him. She felt so good. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to rush her, to give in to his body’s demands and run his hands all over her small, curvy body.

Instead, he gave in to what his own body had been screaming for him to do since he met her in that elevator. He wrapped an arm around her waist and placed the other on the back of her neck as he pulled her in closer. So close, he could see the gold flecks in her eyes that matched her hair. Sunshine. Warm, bright, promising. What does sunshine taste like?

And then she kissed him.

…

Claire held her breath as she stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his—such soft lips, which was unexpected in light of his strong jaw and chiseled features. Gently at first, then more insistent, he slanted his mouth over hers, coaxing her to open to him. Her heart kicked into hyperdrive when he took her bottom lip between his teeth and released it. Gasping, she savored his minty smell and ran her hands over the hard muscles of his shoulders. She’d never been kissed like this. It was as if they had all the time in the world as their tongues danced together, causing chills to shoot up and down her spine. She needed more. Moaning in the back of her throat, she pressed harder against his body, eliciting a deep groan from him that made her dizzy—one step short of crazy. The hard press of his erection against her belly made her want to climb him like a jungle gym and lick him from head to toe. Never had a man moved her this way. He was like an addictive drug, which, considering the fact that she was leaving the country soon, was not a good thing.

“Wow,” she said, pulling away before she totally lost it and needed to call Will-aholics Anonymous. “Wow,” she repeated, placing her hands on his chest, which didn’t help because it was a firm wall of muscle begging to be explored, and at that moment, her hands were regular Lewis and Clarks ready to strike out on their own uncharted Anderson expedition. No. Be responsible, Claire. “Isn’t there a rule against this?”

“God, I hope not.”

“You’re my boss.”

Still leaning against the door, his brow furrowed. “I suppose that’s correct, technically. I’m an owner, but not your direct boss. And I work remotely. My being in the office is a fluke.” He ran his lips along her jaw with a featherlight touch that was no doubt leaving scorch marks. “Besides, you’re a temp. Surely company policy against fraternizing with employees doesn’t count.”

That was splitting hairs, but at this point, screw responsibility. She’d buy it wholesale.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked.

“No.”

He pulled her back against him, and she sighed as her whole body hummed with pleasure. He took her earlobe between his teeth and scraped them along it, catching her as her knees buckled. Near miss. “Almost a Claire-ism,” she whispered, reveling in his tongue on her neck.

“Not even close.” He ran his hands down her back and cupped her bottom. “Are you wearing pink underwear again today?”

Her face grew hot. “Oh, great. You saw…”

Pulling the collar of her bathrobe aside, he kissed a sizzling trail across her throat. “You bet I did.”

“Well, that’s embarrassing.” She was so dizzy from his kisses, she wondered how she was still able to form coherent sentences.

He ran his big, warm hands up her body and around her rib cage. Then he lifted them to cup her breasts outside the robe. She moaned with pleasure as he nibbled her other earlobe and her nipples throbbed under his palms. “Why would that be embarrassing?”

She gasped as he stroked her breasts. What the hell had he asked her? Oh, yeah. Why his seeing her underwear was embarrassing. “Umm. Because I don’t really know you.”

“Well, we should fix that.” He flicked his thumbs across her nipples, and she gasped right before he took her mouth in another delicious kiss. And whoa, could he kiss. She pressed her body against his, needing more of him. He traced circles around her nipples until she thought she might scream.

“You like that.” His voice was husky and thick.

“Mmm-hmm.”

His lips tightened into a smile against her neck. “There’s something between us, and you feel it. I want more. So do you.”

Damn right she did. She wanted to explore his entire body to see if more than his mouth tasted like mint. Just the thought of it made her knees go weak.

“But now is not the time,” he said, putting her at arm’s length with a sigh.

Claire closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She’d just made out with her boss against the door of her apartment. Like, seriously made out with him complete with some grab-ass. This wasn’t just a Claire-ism, it was the mother of all Claire-isms lit up with neon lights and a disco ball. She’d never live this one down.

…

Will counted to ten and focused on the sound of his breathing until he was back under control. His attraction to this woman was intense, and he knew he had to back off—at least for now.

She pulled her robe tighter with awkward, nervous jerks. “Okay. Well, um, hi. Welcome to my home.” Her eyes flitted everywhere but his face. “It’s kind of messy right now.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” It unnerved him how attracted he was to her after only a short period of time. He knew he had to stay mindful that it was a potential land mine that could take him out.

“You want a drink or something?” She slid out of his arms and shifted from foot to foot waiting for his answer. Something was off.

“Sure.”

He leaned his head back against the door as she padded to a wet bar near the kitchen. The small apartment was furnished with eighteenth- and nineteenth-century American antiques—very fine ones. Egyptian decorative art was scattered among odd pieces of Americana on almost every surface, making the place look like an episode of Antiques Roadshow. Not what he’d expected at all.

She opened one cabinet, then another. “There’s scotch and bourbon, but that’s about it.”

“Scotch works.” As she continued to search the cabinets, eventually producing a highball glass, it dawned on him that this was not her apartment. She seemed familiar with it, but not comfortable. At least that was true of the bar area. Odd. According to Jim, the tax office had this apartment listed in her name, Clarisse Maddox.

Her hands shook as she poured a couple of fingers of scotch. It troubled him she was this anxious, especially after she was so at ease only minutes before. Well, not at ease, but far from nervous.

He crossed to the bar. “You okay, Claire?”

She set the bottle down and handed him the drink. “Yeah.” She gestured to a sitting area in the next room. “Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to put on something…” She looked down at the sheer silk robe that hugged her curves in a way that made Will want to visit the door again. “Something different.”

“Don’t change on my account,” he said, strolling into the room she’d indicated. This space was less formal than the other parts of the apartment he’d seen and was a mash-up of furniture styles and origins. He settled into the sofa facing a large carved French armoire he suspected had been converted into an entertainment center based on the configuration of the furniture. Yep. Remotes inside the inlaid box on the coffee table confirmed it.

A framed certificate to the right of the armoire caught his eye, and he moved to get a closer look. It was a matted U.S. Army Air Corps commission from World War II under the name of Richard Thomas Maddox. It was the only personal item in the room. No photos anywhere. Just who was this girl?

That familiar feeling of being watched crept over him like insects across his flesh. He spun to find her studying him from the doorway.

He swirled the scotch and simply stared. She was perfect like this, wearing warm-up pants and a T-shirt. No bra, thank God. His body snapped back to attention as if he hadn’t had a several-minute reprieve. Hers did, too, if her nipples coming to sharp peaks under the thin material of her shirt were any indication.

Her eyes traveled down his body, pausing at the bulge in his pants, which only made it more prominent.

She cleared her throat and drew her eyes back to his, then moved to put the sofa between them. “Listen, Will, I’m sorry about…” She looked over her shoulder toward the door. “What happened.”

What the hell was going on? “I’m not sorry. Not one little bit.”

“Well, no, I mean, it was great. I just…” She twisted her hands together nervously.

Shit.

“I’ve never done anything like this.”

He didn’t know much about her, but he knew that was total bullshit. The woman was no novice. She knew how to kiss. He lifted an eyebrow and took a sip of his scotch.

“Well, I mean, I’ve done…you know…that. I just don’t usually…”

Something in his chest tightened uncomfortably.

She slumped down onto the sofa, staring straight ahead. He lowered himself beside her and placed the glass of scotch on the table in front of them. “Please don’t. It was amazing.”

“I don’t really know you.”

“Let’s fix that,” he whispered, gently touching his lips to hers.

Claire pulled back, not meeting his eyes. “I don’t just jump men I hardly know.”

He smiled. “Wait a minute! Did I miss something? Did you jump me?” Her eyes darted to his, then away, and he caught the faintest hint of a smile at his joke. Good. He needed to pull her out of this remorse or embarrassment, or whatever was making her uncomfortable. He wanted the passionate girl up against the door back. “Would you mind clarifying this, because that felt like a mutual experience to me. What exactly would jumping me entail?”

Her eyes roamed over his body briefly before she smiled and stared down at her hands folded in her lap.

Now he was getting somewhere. He leaned closer. Close enough for his breath to ruffle the fine hairs at her temple. “Would it involve kissing me again? Because that would be okay by me.”

“Me, too, which is the problem. I’m not ordinarily like this.”

Her muscles tensed when he placed his palm on her knee. “Like what?”

Staring at her lap, she shrugged and remained silent, while a furious blush crawled up her neck and face. Such a genuine reaction—he loved it. As it had with him, their instant physical attraction had thrown her and he totally got that. He needed to put her mind at ease.

Keeping his hand motionless on her knee, he leaned in. “So what is it you’re not usually like?” He nuzzled her ear. “Beautiful? Interesting?”

She squirmed and smiled.

Good. He was breaking through whatever doubts were nagging at her. He brushed his lips over her shoulder as he spoke. “Or hot, perhaps. Because Claire, you are very, very hot.” She shivered as he ran his lips up her neck to her ear. “Oh, I know what it is that’s troubling you. You’re not usually horny.”

She gasped, then made a squeaking sound. Bingo.

He chuckled. “That’s the biggest compliment you could give me.” He moved her still-wet hair aside and kissed her nape, and she shuddered. “If you think being horny is a bad thing, you’re dead wrong.”

She trembled, but not from any residual doubt. She wanted him, too. “If it’s any consolation,” he continued, “I’m not like this either. I don’t usually kiss a woman on the first date.”

She met his eyes. “Well, then you’re way off schedule. We haven’t even had a first date. That’s tomorrow.” She bumped his shoulder teasingly with hers. “Unless you’re seeing Sparkle Jeans instead.”

“Sparkle Jeans?”

“Leggy supermodel from the Italian restaurant today?”

“Ah, her. Like I told you, it wasn’t a date. Old friend. Bad idea. Nothing happened, Claire. Nothing will.”

“How do you know that?”

He took her face in his hands. “Because I don’t want her. I want you.”

Heat flared in her eyes, but she turned away. “Look, I’m not a dating candidate. I’m also not a”—she made a wild gesture to him and the front door and back to herself again—“a whatever that was candidate either.”

Just like him, she was afraid. He was terrified of being burned again, but for some reason was unwilling to let this particular box of matches go. What was it she feared? “So, what makes you a bad dating candidate?”

“I’m gone. I’m leaving the country in two weeks.”

Alarm bells went off. But they were nothing compared to his utter disappointment. Still, he didn’t want a relationship, right? This should be great news. “Leaving for where?”

“First to Egypt, then, I don’t know. Anywhere but here. I’m going to travel for a month and see the world I’ve missed my whole life. After that, I have an internship in Cairo lined up that I hope turns into a permanent gig.”

“Okay, so that puts you out of the long-term dating column for sure, but what makes you think you aren’t a candidate for…” He mimicked her gesture of pointing to himself, the door, and back to her. “Because I’d really like to do a little…” And he made the same triangle gesture again.

She laughed at his silly pantomime, which made him grin. This girl was so open. No way was she double-crossing his company. Nobody was that good an actress.

He laid his hand over hers. “Again, I apologize for the misunderstanding at the restaurant.”

“Already forgotten,” she said. “I’d have gotten over it anyway. I’m not the jealous type.”

“You weren’t jealous of Sparkle Jeans?” He thought her name for Suzanne was hilarious.

Her brow furrowed and she cocked her head. “No. I was disappointed. It seems to me, a person can only be jealous if they have a claim on someone. I don’t date, so I have no claim on anyone—no jealousy.”

Totally surprised by this news, he lifted his hand from hers. “You don’t date?”

She grabbed a pillow from the corner of the sofa and hugged it to her. “Well, I have—I did—but it’s been almost a year. It was great at first, but when my grandma got really sick, we mainly hung out between classes. Eric and I got pretty close, but my obligation as a caretaker got in the way… That along with the fact that he was an asshole.”

The hackles on his neck bristled at the knowledge someone had hurt her. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. I’m glad he’s gone.” She pitched the pillow back into the corner of the sofa. “When I got my master’s degree last May, I stopped going anywhere at all. I just sat here in Sissy’s house as a full-time caregiver.”

“Sissy?”

“Clarisse, my grandmother.”

Relief flooded through him in a warm wave. That explained not only her unfamiliarity with the bar, but why she lived at this prestigious address.

His eyes roved her body from her shiny blond hair to her chipped pink toenail polish. He wanted this woman. Wanted her so badly it hurt, and he was certain she felt the same way, but tonight wasn’t the night. It was too soon. He stood. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Maddox?”

“It’s a date, Mr. Anderson.”

“I’d say I’m sorry I dropped in on you unexpectedly, but I’m not.” He walked to her door and patted it. “Nice door.”

As the elevator closed, he could still hear her laughter, and it made him feel like he was full of helium. Like he did in the old days before his life fell to shit.

Chapter Seven

Claire had changed into casual clothes—a simple skirt and a ruffled floral wraparound blouse—and had stowed her business clothes in a bag at her feet. She was worried that it was almost five o’clock, and she hadn’t seen Will at the office all day. She’d expected him to at least pop into the file room at lunch. Maybe he’d had second thoughts about taking her out tonight.

Nah. She didn’t get that vibe off him. He seemed for real.

Her phone vibrated from inside the desk drawer. She slid the drawer open and pulled it out. Five text messages. Three from Heather fishing for gossip; one from her grandmother’s insurance agent, Mr. Sinclair, saying the life insurance money transfer to her brokerage account should take place before close of business today, but wouldn’t be accessible for several days; and one from a phone number she didn’t recognize, obviously Will. It was a calendar alert that read, “Reminder: Dinner with Claire—5:15 p.m.”

So, Will hadn’t gotten cold feet—which made her whole body flush hot. She giggled and repressed the urge to break out some wicked dance moves right there in her office. She shot a response to Mr. Sinclair and shut down her computer. Then she called Heather.

She dreaded this phone call. She loved Heather, but she was the biggest snoop and matchmaker ever. It had never bothered Claire before because it had never affected her. Her life as nurse for the dying had been less than interesting. Now, evidently, she was top of Heather’s vicarious living list based on the number of phone calls she received from her—at least one an hour.

She spun her chair to face the window and rolled her eyes as the phone rang for the third time.

“Well?” Heather answered. Not even a hello.

Staring longingly at the scrap of blue sky visible over the building across the street, Claire pulled a pencil out of the cup on the table under the window. “Hey, Heather.”

“What happened today?”

“Well, I got to the office about eight.” She rolled the pencil from one hand to the other across the slick table surface, knowing that wasn’t what Heather was fishing for.

“And?”

In her mind, she could picture Heather pacing her office like she did when she was excited. “And I edited the remainder of the estate jewelry auction brochure. Then, I had lunch.”

“Did he”—she cleared her throat—“talk to you?”

She stopped the pencil mid-roll. “Not today.” But last night he’d done amazing things she wouldn’t tell Heather about over the phone—like the mind-bending make-out session up against her door. “He’s not even here.”

“Oh…” Heather didn’t even try to mask the disappointment in her voice.

She flicked the pencil, setting it back into motion again, catching it right before it rolled off the end of the desk, then pushing it back the other direction. “I did hear from Mr. Sinclair, though. The money should be in my account any second now and will be available in a few days.”

“Cool! You’ll be rich,” Heather said.

The thought of having that much money made Claire’s head spin when she really thought about it. It was a bit terrifying, actually. “Yes. I’ll be rich. And free to get the hell out of New York.”

“Woo! You’re out of here—which, by the way, makes me as sad as it does happy for you. I wish you weren’t dead-set on that internship with Dr. Jolly.”

Claire didn’t even bother correcting her. She’d called Dr. Jahi that since they took his class together years ago.

“Can’t you get an internship closer to home—to me? I’m gonna miss you, girl.” There was a moment of silence from Heather, which wasn’t typical. “Well, okay.” Her voice cracked a bit. “So, I bet you’re ready to party! Let’s do it.”

“I’ll be ready to party once the money hits my bank account. Until then, I’ll keep working here until my passport comes in, and start boxing up my things at home.”

“There are companies for that, you know. You don’t have to always do everything yourself.”

Claire dropped the pencil back into the cup. “Yeah, but I don’t like people snooping.” A sound came from behind her. She spun in her chair to discover Will in her doorway and her heart sped up at the sight of him. “Listen, I’ve gotta go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Is he there?” Heather asked.

Heck, yeah, he was there; all hot man in blue jeans and a button-down shirt leaning against her doorframe like something out of a really great dream. “Bye, Heather.”

“Oh my God. He’s there. Is he in your office?”

She hit “end” and dropped the phone in her purse as she met Will’s eyes. “Hey.”

He looked as if he were studying her, rather than greeting her. His slightly narrowed eyes focused on her with such intensity, she held her breath. “Hey, yourself,” he finally answered.

Well, this was awkward. It was as if he were waiting for her to say or do something. “Um, so, we’re still on?”

“Is there a reason we shouldn’t be?”

Something was wrong. He was probably having second thoughts now that he was here.

“None that I can think of.” She smiled, but he didn’t smile back. Crap.

…

Will hadn’t sneaked up on Claire intentionally, but holy shit, what he’d heard was shocking. In the brief moments of her phone call he’d overheard, he discovered that someone named Mr. Sinclair was wiring enough money to her account to make her rich. This, right before she planned to leave the country. Surely it was coincidental.

His stomach sank and his heart pounded in his ears. A full-blown skirmish was going on in his head and heart. What would he do if she turned out to be the spy? He let out the breath he’d been holding way too long and relaxed his balled-up fists. Hell, who was he kidding? He couldn’t walk away now if she were holding a live grenade. Their connection was so intense he couldn’t end this even if he had to. And he didn’t want to. His instincts were right. He knew they were.

Claire gripped the edge of her desk. Her deep, quick breaths caused her breasts to swell above the low neckline of her blouse. Just the sight of her made his entire body go hard, especially a certain part. He couldn’t believe he’d only known her a couple of days; she seemed to have invaded every waking part of his life…his dreams, too. Only in his dreams, her hair was not bound in a knot on the back of her head, like it was now, and they weren’t just staring at each other awkwardly. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah. Give me a second to shut my computer down and get my things.”

He nodded and stepped into the lobby, shooting Jim a quick text to check out the transaction between Claire’s bank and Sinclair, whoever the hell he was. The sooner this was cleared up, the better. Then tomorrow, he’d really focus on the case and bury this once and for all. As for tonight, he planned to focus only on Claire Maddox, who had just emerged from her office looking like a waking fantasy. With a shirt that tied at her waist with a bow, she looked like a present waiting to be unwrapped. Damn. She had taken her hair down, and it softened her features. His fingers twitched as he imagined running them through the soft gold waves that fell well past her shoulder blades.

“You look fantastic,” he said, placing his hand on the small of her back to guide her to the elevator. Not that she needed guiding, but he sure needed to touch her.

The elevator door opened and Chance stepped out. “Hey! I was just coming to talk to you.” The door closed behind him.

Shit. From the time he was a little kid, Chance’s timing had always been remarkable—almost like he had a sixth sense detecting when his appearance would be the biggest pain in the ass. Like now, preventing Will from getting Claire alone. He gritted his teeth as she moved a foot or so out of reach. “What’s up?”

“Let’s go talk in Michael’s office,” he suggested. Then he noticed Claire. “Oh, hi, Miss Maddox. Have a nice evening. See you tomorrow.”

Well, this was fucking awkward. Michael would lose his shit over taking an employee out, even a temp, but he had no idea what Chance would do. Claire obviously picked up on his brother’s assumption and hit the down button as if she were leaving to go home.

No way. Will didn’t give a shit what Michael’s reaction might be, and he sure as hell wasn’t worried about Chance.

He reached over and took her hand, pulling her close. “Afraid I can’t right now. We’re on our way to dinner. The car is waiting downstairs.”

His brother’s brow furrowed for a moment, then relaxed as the pieces fell into place. “Oh.” He looked from Will to Claire, then back again. “Well, okay, then.” He paused for a moment as if fishing for the right words. “Have fun.”

Will pushed the elevator button, still holding Claire’s hand.

Chance took a few steps toward Michael’s office, then stopped. “Michael’s probably going to call you tonight.” Again, his eyes flitted to Claire and back. “You might want to answer. He’s pretty uptight.”

“He’s always uptight,” Will said as the elevator door opened. “I’ll answer. Don’t worry. But he should really come off his high horse and text instead.”

Chance nodded. “I agree completely, but as you know, he feels like text messages lack the nuances and clarity of real conversation. You know how he is.”

Yeah, unmovable.

“Have a good night,” his little brother said, striding away.

A good night was exactly what Will had in mind, and as the elevator closed, he exulted in the fact that he was one step closer.

…

Outside, a limousine was waiting. Claire tried to act like she wasn’t jump-up-and-down-giddy at the prospect of riding in one for the first time and slid in with what she hoped was going to be a dignified move. But, of course, she caught her foot on something and ended up crash-landing on all fours in the middle of the vehicle.

“That’s first date with Will Claire-ism number one,” Will said, sliding into the forward-facing seat at the back.

He held out his hand, and she took it, allowing him to pull her onto the seat next to him. A guy in his midforties who had held the door for them stuck his head in. “Ready, Mr. Anderson?”

“Yes, we are. Thanks, Jacob.”

The door closed with a muffled click, and Claire took a look around her first limousine ever. All black and plush and everything she would expect, complete with a mini bar and burled wood accents. “Where are we going?” she asked as they pulled away from the curb.

Will pulled a bottle of champagne out of a bucket on the other side of him. The cork had already been removed. “It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises,” she blurted out without thinking. Most surprises in her life had been bad ones.

“I bet I can change your mind.”

If anyone could, it would be Will Anderson. Claire leaned back against the soft leather and tried to relax, which was hard when all she wanted to do was climb into his lap and give this luscious-smelling man a surprise of her own.

He poured two flutes of champagne and handed her one, then held up the other in toast. “To surprises.”

She reluctantly held hers up, and he clinked his to it.

“What is it you don’t like about surprises?” he asked, swaying slightly as the car came to a stop at a light.

“Um… The surprise in them. Not knowing what’s going to happen. Not being able to plan.” She took a swallow of champagne. It was delicious.

He stared at her a moment and the vehicle took off again. “So, you planned the kiss at your place last night?”

She almost choked on her mouthful of champagne. “Of course not. You know I didn’t.”

He took a sip and studied her with those clear blue eyes, which unnerved her a little bit, causing her heart to flutter. “Then you didn’t like it?” He grinned. “You sure acted like you did.”

Her face heated as the memory of them up against her door last night played through her mind. “Of course I did. That’s not what I meant.”

“Admit defeat, Miss Maddox. You just discovered that you do, indeed, like surprises. And you’ll like where I’m taking you tonight.”

Oh dang. No doubt she would. She clamped her legs together to quell the sudden sensation shooting through her.

He flinched when his phone rang. After slipping it from his pocket, he stared at the screen and scowled.

She fought back a laugh. “‘Smooth Operator’?”

“Chance sets my ringtones because he thinks he’s funny. That’s Michael’s.”

“What’s Chance’s?”

“His is ‘Kung Fu Fighting’ because of his fascination with martial arts. But we won’t be hearing any more ringtones tonight.” He punched the ignore button and shoved the phone into a leather pocket on the door.

No doubt she and Chance would get along great. Too bad she was leaving. “You said you’d take Michael’s call.”

“I certainly did, but not now. Whatever he has to say can wait until after dinner.”

She loved the way this man made her feel like she was his top priority. Relaxing back against the soft leather, her body hummed with anticipation for what the rest of their date held.

…

The sun was lower in the sky, making the interior of the limo seem like a private cocoon. Will wished they were on a cross-country trip instead of a short drive. He wanted to get to know this woman. To learn everything about her from her childhood, to her dreams, to the noises she made in bed. “Tell me about yourself, Claire.”

She angled slightly to face him. “Well, you pretty much know what there is to know. I was raised by my grandparents, who died recently. I got a master’s degree in history. I’m going to Egypt in two weeks.”

Egypt. He couldn’t think of a place he’d rather not visit. After spending years in the desert, it would be like a trip to hell. He’d never set foot in a desert again. He could say that with confidence now that he’d been discharged. He was done with sand forever.

“Then after a month or so of seeing that part of the world to familiarize myself with it, I’m going to intern at the Cairo Museum.”

“So, a long-term thing, then?”

“I hope so.”

And he’d never see her again, which bothered him more than it should considering he’d sworn off relationships. Nope. Not going there. Change the topic. She’d talked about her grandparents, but never her parents. “What happened to your mom and dad?”

She sighed and stared up at the ceiling. “Teen pregnancy happened. My mom never revealed who the father was…he probably never even knew.” Her expression clouded. “I never knew her. She took off pretty soon after I was born, so I was raised by Sissy and Grandpa.”

“I’m sorry,” Will said, brushing her hair off her shoulder. He loved the way it felt between his fingers.

“She left a letter, though. I kept it in a box by my bed and I used to read it every day from the time I was four.”

He stayed very still, waiting for her to order her thoughts.

She stared out the window at darkness. “She said that that one day, she’d come back for me and we’d go see the pyramids.” Her eyes watered, but she didn’t cry. “She died of a drug overdose in California when I was six. I didn’t know until I found the newspaper clipping when I was going through Sissy’s things a couple of years ago—after she got so sick.”

Images of a little girl with blond curls waiting by the window for a mother who would never come flashed in his head and it felt like his chest had caved in on itself. “Why didn’t your grandparents tell you?”

Her slight smile was wistful, as if she were far away. “Sissy was always a big believer in hope. Without hope, you had nothing. She didn’t want to take it from me.”

He ran his hand up and down her arm. “She should have told you the truth.”

She took his hand in hers. “No. Then I would’ve had nothing to look forward to. For as long as I can remember, my Grandpa was sick, and Sissy never left the place, which put a rain cloud over my head as a kid. Then, right as I got old enough to spread my wings a little, she got sick, too, which made me the sole caregiver. Honestly, there were times when that letter was all that kept me going—the dream of traveling to Egypt like my mother had with my grandparents when she was a girl. It made me who I am. It’s why I got so into ancient cultures. It’s why I got into an Ivy League school. It might have actually saved me, Will. Sometimes it’s the difficult stuff that makes us better.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed the inside of her palm.

She looked out the window and nothing was moving. Will’s hot breath across her wrist made her squirm and he chuckled. “We’ve stopped,” she said.

“I hadn’t noticed,” he replied, releasing her hand, then pushing the intercom button to speak with the driver. “Please inform T.J. we’re here and will be coming aboard.”

“Yes, sir,” Jacob’s voice answered.

Aboard. Oh, great. A boat. The only boats she’d ever been on were ferries, and she’d refused to get near the edge.

“Ready for your surprise?” he asked, as Jacob opened the door.

“No.”

He laughed, but was the perfect gentleman, of course, as they exited the limo and walked to a long wooden pier at a quaint harbor that looked like something right out of a movie.

The water gently lapped the pilings as they made their way past sailboats and motorboats of all sizes. As they neared the end of the walkway, it dawned on her that the sleek, enormous vessel at the end was their destination.

When they got up close, she realized there were several people wearing uniforms on board. This was not at all what she’d expected. Surprise. “Take me out to dinner, huh?”

“Mr. Anderson! Welcome aboard,” a man called from the deck above them.

Will gestured for her to lead the way up the ramp leading to a door in the side of the boat, or ship, or whatever it was. “Careful,” he whispered. “This has very high Claire-ism potential.”

No kidding. The whole prospect of a moving object in the water was fraught with peril. She climbed the ramp and entered a chic, modern cabin. Before she had a chance to really take a look around, the guy from the deck entered the cabin behind them.

“Will. So good to see you.” The man, who was much smaller than Will, extended his hand.

Will shook it vigorously. “T.J. Hooper, this is Claire Maddox. Claire, T.J. is the captain of the Linda IV. He has captained every one of the Lindas, in fact.”

T.J. took her hand and shook it briefly. “Been with the Andersons since I was a teenager. Known Willy since he was in diapers.” His attention went back to Will. “I was told you had an eleven o’clock return this evening. No sunrise then?”

“Sadly, no.”

“I’m glad to see you out again, even if it’s for a quickie.” He winked. “Well, as you can see, we’re all ready for you.” He gestured to a small, elegant table set for two, complete with silver candlesticks in the middle of the cabin. “I guess I’ll go up and get us under way.” He nodded to Claire. “Nice to meet you, Miss Maddox.”

He extended his hand again. When Will took it, the older man pulled him into an embrace. “I’m happy to see you again. And the entire crew of the Linda IV is glad, too. Especially Nancy. She can’t wait to see you.”

“Thanks,” Will said. “It’s good to be back on board. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to show off for my guest.” He winked, then added, “Show off the ship, I mean.”

He held out his hand and led her on a tour of the Linda IV, which he explained was named after his mother and not nearly as large as the Lindas II and III had been. For Claire, it was plenty big and intimidating. She swallowed the lump in her throat and focused on the polished wood of the deck, rather than the water that they were cutting through at a million miles an hour.

“You seem uncomfortable,” Will observed as they climbed back down to the main deck.

The climb, in combination with the movement of the vessel, had her coming unglued. She really wanted to sit on the stairs and scoot down on her butt like a toddler. “Not a big fan of boats.”

“You’ll have to be on lots of them if you plan to travel the world.”

“The end result is worth it, so I’ll deal.”

As sure-footed as a cat, he stepped off the stairs and strode to the railing right at the front and held out his hand. “Come join me.”

“I’d rather not.” She parked her butt on the bottom stair. No way was she doing the aquatic equivalent of a wing walk today. Nope. A potential full ten on the Claire-ism-O-Meter.

He kept his hand out and arched a brow. “Please.”

“Forget it.”

His features softened, which of course made her resolve do the same. “Join me.” He waited a moment, then added, “The end result will be worth it.”

Oh, great. The big, hot man had just thrown her own words back at her. Figures. Well, she had made a resolution to live life to the fullest, which is why she was here in the first place. With teeny-tiny baby steps, heart scampering around in her rib cage like a startled rabbit, she shuffled to where he stood. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she grasped the railing and closed her eyes. Fast. The boat was going so fast.

“Look over the water, Claire. It’s beautiful.” He lowered his lips to her ear. “Like you.”

Swallowing hard, she opened her eyes and lifted her head, and then gasped. It was beautiful. The setting sun hovered low over the water, causing shards of light to bounce across the surface like dancing stars.

He tightened his hold around her shoulders, and she relaxed against him. Goose bumps rose on her arms as he brushed his lips against her ear as he spoke. “When I was a little boy, I used to stand here on the Linda II and pretend I was a Viking traveling to conquer distant lands. Sometimes, I was a pirate.”

Leaning down, he gave her a warm, lingering kiss, then pulled her against him, their bodies melting together and his minty scent filling her head.

Smoothly, the boat slowed almost to a stop, but Will didn’t loosen his embrace.

“We’re slowing down.”

Arms still wrapped around her, his breathing was deep and even. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Is something wrong? Are we stranded or something?”

He chuckled and relaxed his hold. “No. It means it’s time to go below for dinner.”

She sighed with relief and melted against him again.

“Are you hungry?”

Yeah, she was. She was hungry for more time with this man who seemed too good to be real. “Starving.”

…

In the candlelight, Will’s eyes looked like they glowed from inside. Gold waves undulated across his skin, making him appear surreal.

A middle-aged woman, dressed all in black with a long white apron, took away their salad plates and refilled their wineglasses with calm efficiency.

“Thank you, Nancy,” Will said.

She smiled. “It’s good to see you again, sir.”

“Two years is too long.”

“Two and a half,” she corrected, “and it is indeed.”

He took a sip of wine and watched her disappear through two metal swinging doors.

“Two and a half years?”

“Since I’ve been on board. The last time I was here was with my brothers before my last deployment. Like T.J., Nancy’s been with us a long time. I think she must have told the three of us to stay away from the edge of the boat and the engine room a million times growing up.”

She tried to picture him as a small boy playing on the deck of a yacht. What an odd life for a child. “What was that like for you?”

His brow furrowed.

“Growing up like this.” She gestured with open palms to the sleek cabin.

“You mean growing up with money? Being rich is fantastic, as you know yourself.”

Nancy returned and slipped a fish course in front of each of them and then disappeared again.

“I didn’t grow up rich. Not at all,” she said.

He cut off a bite of fish. “You live in one of the most expensive parts of the city.”

“Grandpa made a ton of money in oil. They lived the high life for a while. Traveled, bought beautiful things—all before I was born. When the oil crisis happened in the eighties, they were hit hard. Then he got sick. They owned the apartment outright by then and had invested enough to make fees and taxes. We didn’t struggle, but we didn’t ride around in limousines. In fact, the ride here was the first time I’ve ever been in one.”

His face was unreadable as he chewed, with the exception of the slight lift of one eyebrow. She was pretty sure she had surprised him.

“Besides, if I were rich, I wouldn’t be working a temp job at your company.”

He set his fork down, but said nothing.

“But I’m glad,” she continued. “Because that’s why I’m sitting here with you right now.” She worried that she may have gotten overly mushy, but his features softened and she relaxed a bit.

“I’m glad, too,” he said, reaching across the table to take her hand.

What would it be like if things were different? If they had met at another time when she wasn’t leaving in two weeks? He ran his thumb over her knuckles and her body grew warm. God, only last week it seemed like forever before she could shake off her old life. Now two weeks seemed like the blink of an eye.

She marveled again at her good luck. Who’d have ever thought a Claire-ism would result in a date with the hottest man she’d ever laid eyes on? Again, the situation struck her as odd. Why would a man like Will Anderson, who could have everything and anyone, be interested in her?

She pulled her hand from his and cut off a bit of fish with her fork. “So, you know the basics of my family. What about yours? I’ve met your brothers, but have never seen your parents.”

He took a bite of asparagus, followed by a sip of wine. “Mom and Dad retired almost three years ago, turning the business over to Michael, Chance, and me. They made it official right before my second deployment. I came back to find everything running smoothly at the office. Michael said we needed someone to up our security, and I was the perfect man for the job because of my recon experience in Afghanistan.”

“What exactly did you do over there?”

“My team analyzed insurgent strongholds and cities to determine the best strategies to take out targets.”

“Remotely?”

“Yes. By satellite and computer. And also on the ground.”

God. Did he infiltrate the bad guys’ lairs and stuff? “Like a spy, sort of.”

“Loosely.”

He turned his attention to his food. Subject closed. Okay. Well, at least she had a timeline now. He’d inherited his part of the company, only to leave for Afghanistan for the second time. When he returned, he put his soldier/spy training to use by setting up security for Anderson Auctions. That made sense.

“You said you work from your home, usually?”

He nodded. “There’s a lot of data to analyze for all the different properties and interests. Security managers send me information when necessary. I do background checks on businesses we deal with on large-scale transactions, in addition to monitoring on all sights. Dad had invested and dabbled in lots of different things, so I’ve been catching up on all of that. The auction house is simply the most lucrative and visible single endeavor of Anderson Enterprises. Since Michael has taken over, it has almost doubled its profits. Dad did it for fun. Michael does it to win.”

She’d only seen Michael Anderson a few times. She’d never actually met him, but he was almost as handsome as Will. Though slightly shorter, and not as broad in the shoulders, his eyes were more intense. Everything about him was intense. A kind of frenetic energy seemed to flow in his wake, and it was unnerving. “He strikes me as the kind of guy who does everything to win.”

He cut off another bite of his fish. “Everything but cheat. Michael has a rigid set of principles and rules. He never deviates.”

“Is he married?”

Will choked back a laugh, swallowed hard, and took a chug of his wine. He wiped his mouth with the linen napkin, still chuckling. “God, no. He probably never will. He dates a lot. I mean, a lot, but nothing serious. Nobody on earth will ever be able to live up to his expectations. Michael is a man whose life is calculated and organized to the minute detail. Even his sock drawer is organized in color order.”

She smiled. “Sounds like he needs someone to disrupt his order a little bit.”

“Well, let me get out of town before that happens.” He finished off the rest of his fish. “Now, Chance is another story.”

Claire leaned back in her chair, excited that he was warming up to talking about himself and his family. The candle had burned lower and the wavering light dancing across his skin made her want to run her hands all over him—well, even more than usual.

Nancy came in and cleared the plates while he continued. “Chance and I never really hung out because he was in high school when Michael and I were away at college. He made a couple of really close friends he still runs with today.” A wistful, faraway look crossed his features in the flickering light. “They were real practical jokers, but nobody ever got arrested, so there’s that. He got deep into martial arts about the time I thought he’d spin off. I think that made a difference.” His expression darkened, but he didn’t continue.

“What?”

He met her eyes. “Nothing. I just… One of them, Phoebe, is getting married soon. I wonder how that’s going to affect him. The three of them have been joined at the hip forever. I’d always expected…” He left the thought unfinished and shrugged. “So that’s it for my family.”

“So, where are your parents?”

He smiled. “They are wherever in the world the mood strikes them to go. Dad loves it, but Mom would much rather be home.” He met her eyes. “World travel and freedom from obligation isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

Boom! Subtle like a sledgehammer. Claire sipped her wine, wondering if he meant it as a hint, or if she was reading too much into it. Apartment door make-out session aside, this was only their first date, and, dammit, no matter how much she liked Will Anderson’s hot, minty deliciousness, she was determined to stick to her plan. She’d given up her dreams too many times for other people to consider hanging around longer to see where this went. “Neither is being caged.”

One dark eyebrow arched. “Point well-made.”

Nancy delivered chocolate mousse, Claire’s favorite, and replaced their wineglasses with champagne. “There is also coffee at the bar. Will there be anything else?”

Will took the woman’s hand and gave it a pat. “We’re good. It was great to see you. Tell your family hi for me.”

She stared at him a while, hand still in his. “I read about… I’m sorry you… Well, you’re better off without her.” She blinked rapidly, then took a deep breath. “I’m glad you’re home, Willy. And I’m glad to see you out again.”

Claire noticed him stiffen, but his words were level and warm. “Me, too. Thanks for being here tonight.”

She nodded and scurried out. Claire suspected some tears followed her exit.

“Better off without whom?” She knew this had to do with the broken engagement Heather mentioned. Bringing it up might have been poking a hornet’s nest, and she knew it, but she also wanted to understand him. He fascinated her—everything about him, even this sadness he let slip sometimes.

“I made a mistake and trusted the wrong person. It’s over. Moving on.” He picked up his spoon, gave her a smile, and dug into his mousse.

Okay then. She didn’t get stung by hornets. She did, however, feel like she’d been zapped with a little current when he closed his eyes and made a yummy sound as he enjoyed the mousse.

“Well, that’s an endorsement I can’t resist,” she said picking up her spoon. Oh, yeah. The yummy sound was definitely justified. The mousse was amazing. Fluffy, light, and rich. As he had done, she closed her eyes and enjoyed her heaven on a spoon. The only thing missing was a chorus of angels. When she opened her eyes, she found him leaning closer. The heat in his eyes was unmistakable. His smoldering gaze dropped to her lips and he smiled. It was a cat-that-got-the-canary smile, and it made her squirm.

…

Everything about this woman appealed and Will intended to maximize their time together and not waste any of it. Starting now. He set his spoon down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “So, Miss Maddox, I have proposition for you.”

“If it involves jumping you, I try to never do that on the first date.” She grinned at him and took another bite of her mousse.

“How about on the second date?”

“All terms are negotiable, Mr. Anderson.”

The business analogy made him chuckle. What a fucking bitch fate was. Here was a funny, smart, gorgeous woman who was as receptive as he was eager, and she was leaving in two weeks. It was for the best, though. How tangled up could he get in two weeks? Not enough to do any real damage, for sure. But they certainly could have some fun.

He rose from the table and paced the length of the cabin with his hands clasped behind his back as if being completely serious. “Here’s my business proposal…well, it’s more of a pleasure proposal really.”

She giggled and he tried to channel his inner Michael and not laugh along with her.

Keeping his best boardroom exec face, he continued, “I would like a two-week exclusive arrangement with you, during which we explore the limits of how much fun two people can have in that amount of time. I think we both need and deserve it. I propose we call it the Claire Project. What do you think, Miss Maddox?” He stopped pacing and faced her with what he hoped was a businesslike expression.

Her grin broadened and she set her spoon aside. “I’ll have my people send the paperwork over.”

“I’m so glad we are in accord. No paperwork necessary, Miss Maddox. Let’s consider it a binding oral agreement.” He helped her up from her chair and pulled her against him, loving the way her curves fit against him perfectly. Then he lowered his head, and she met him in a kiss that tasted of chocolate and desire. Clever, hot, responsive. Everything he wanted…and he wanted her badly. It was all he could do to not lift up her skirt and…

She broke the kiss. “The boat is moving again,” she said, voice husky and sexy as hell.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

A knock came on the cabin door and Claire pulled away like a teenager caught mid-make-out by her parents. Nancy entered with an empty rolling cart. “We’re on our way back to the harbor, Mr. Anderson.” With the speed of a snail, she began clearing the dishes to the cart. “Do you need anything else?”

Yeah. He needed her to clear the table some other time. He sighed, knowing it would hurt her feelings to send her away. He took Claire’s hands and twined his fingers through hers. “No. I have everything I need right now, thank you.”

After what felt like an eternity, and a bear hug for both of them from Nancy, they found themselves alone again.

“Do you dance?” he asked.

“Not really, but I can fake it.”

“I can’t imagine you faking anything.” He pushed play on the sound system and smooth, jazzy music filled the room. He slid his arms around her and swayed to the music. She looped her arms around his neck and relaxed in his embrace, making him heat up until he thought he might go up in flames. He ran a hand up her back and down again, pressing her closer. “I want you, Claire.”

Her response was to push harder against him. He made a low, growling sound and ran his hands over her ass, pressing her to him so that there was no doubt about how turned on he was.

With a soft moan, she slid her hands around his waistline and unbuttoned his jeans, and then ran her fingers just inside the waistband of his boxer briefs. He no longer swayed, but his chest heaved in time to the song.

“Claire.” It almost sounded like a plea. Hell, it was a plea.

She met his eyes and slid his zipper down.

He closed his eyes and took several anticipatory breaths as she slipped her hands inside his pants.

“Mr. Anderson?” A knock on the door followed.

She froze and Will cursed.

“I hate to interrupt you, but we’ve arrived back at the harbor,” T.J. called from outside.

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“And both of your brothers have called me…more than once. Michael says it’s urgent he speak with you. He’s holding the line on my phone now.”

“Fuck,” Will gritted out under his breath.

Claire slid her hands out of his pants and he caught her fingers, pulled them to his lips, and kissed her knuckles. “We’re not done here,” he said. “Not by a long shot.”

She grinned and her face flushed red.

He adjusted himself and zipped his jeans. “Tell him I’ll call him when I get back to the office. The world won’t stop spinning before then. And tell him if he’d text, none of this would be necessary and I wouldn’t have to kick his ass when he comes home.”

“I’ll leave the world spinning, texting, and ass-kicking out of it, but I’ll pass that on. Your car is waiting.”

“Thanks, T.J.” He couldn’t believe that Michael had blown what promised to be the best hand job in history. He was lucky he was in another country where Will couldn’t get to him in person.

Claire picked her purse up from the table by the door, face still passion-flushed and lips swollen from their kisses.

“This meeting is not adjourned, Miss Maddox,” he said. “We simply need to relocate the negotiations to a more favorable venue.”

“You’re the boss,” she said with a grin.

Chapter Eight

Anticipation made Claire dizzy as they walked hand in hand down the pier to the waiting limo. Jacob opened the door and they tumbled inside laughing like drunk teenagers.

She stopped giggling when he slid from the facing seat and stalked on his hands and knees like a panther toward where she sat in the opposite corner. There was just enough illumination from the running lights to see his pupils dilate with desire as he got closer.

He slipped into the seat beside her. “There is a strict protocol on how we’ll open every business meeting for the Claire Project.”

Her breath caught when he gently slid her glasses off and set them in on a console behind them. “You appear to have everything planned out, Mr. Anderson.”

“I’m excellent at planning—one of the best. And I would like to point out that our mobile boardroom is completely private. Jacob can neither see nor hear us.” He poured champagne for both of them. “Every negotiation should be launched with a heavy make-out session in the back of the company limousine. Don’t you agree?” He held up his glass and clinked it against hers.

“Well.” She tilted her head and pretended to consider his question seriously. “It would depend who was on the project team, because if you’re talking about that big guy from accounting who wears the bow ties, that’s a deal-killer for me.”

“For me, too. He’s not my type.”

Giggling, and feeling as bubbly as the champagne, she leaned so close their noses bumped. “I believe we should read back the minutes from our meeting so far.”

With a grin, he put both of their glasses in the cup holders in his door. “You have the floor, Miss Maddox.”

“It began something like this,” she said against his lips.

The moment their lips met, Claire knew this was different from what they’d shared at her apartment. No gentle, skilled parry this time. His embrace was hungry and hard. More animal than refined Anderson brother, Will slid off the seat and faced her, then pushed her back against the leather and gripped the hair at the nape of her neck, tilting her head to gain deeper access to her mouth.

And she loved it—everything about it. Maybe it was because she’d been alone for so long, or maybe it was because this man was built like a god, but she felt like her blood was supercharged as she surrendered to his touch.

A primal growl came from deep in his throat as he pushed her knees apart and pressed his body against hers, pinning her against the seat. But still, she needed more. To be closer. To touch his skin. “I’m alone, too,” he’d said in the hallway outside her apartment, and perhaps it was that loneliness each exuded that caused this attraction—something they had in common. She ripped his shirttail out from his pants and ran her hands up his spine, reveling in the defined muscles and smooth, warm skin of his back as his tongue moved against hers. She scraped her nails over his shoulder blades to his ribs, and he thrust against her with a groan. “My God, Claire.”

Still pinned to the plush leather seat by his body, she stared into his clear blue eyes, gasping for breath. Never had she been so on fire for a man. Her entire body burned for him. It was as if he’d awakened every cell inside her with some elemental force, and she would die if he stopped. But it was more than physical. She felt connected to him somehow—the proverbial kindred spirits crap she’d read about so many times, but it wasn’t crap. It was real and tangible and necessary.

He covered her mouth with his again, and she ran her hands down over his backside and grabbed him. Hard muscle flexed under her fingers, and a warm thrill pooled low in her belly.

He pulled back from the kiss, erection still pushed against her, and ran his thumbs over her nipples through the thin fabric of her shirt and lacy bra once, then studied her face as if gauging her reaction. She sucked in a quick, silent breath and let her head fall back against the seat, hands still gripping the hard muscle through the back of his jeans.

“More?” he asked, hands bracketing her on either side of her head.

If he stopped now, she might scream. “Yes.” Her voice was so raspy she didn’t recognize it.

“I need to touch you, Claire.” His eyes never left hers. “So much it scares me.”

“God, yes. Do it.” There was nothing she wanted more than his hands on her skin.

“You look like a present,” he whispered in her ear, still kneeling on the floor in front of her. “I’ve wanted to untie this bow all night.” He pulled the tie loose and parted the front of her blouse. The cool air swirled over her breasts and belly, while heat burned lower where he pushed against her still. “So beautiful,” he whispered, releasing the clasp on the front of her bra, baring her breasts completely.

And for the first time in a long time, she felt beautiful. And desired. And powerful. And completely free. She reached between them and unbuttoned his untucked shirt. Then, as he’d done with her blouse, she pulled the halves of his shirt open, baring his chest. He was absolutely perfect. The appreciative moan from her throat at the sight of his broad, muscular body was involuntary, as was his answering growl when she skimmed her hands over his skin.

“That feels so good,” he said as she ran her fingers across his collarbone, then down over his defined chest muscles. Just as he’d done, she flicked his nipples once and waited. Almost immediately, his body reacted with a thrust. Sex with this man would be mind-blowing. Hell, dry humping in the limo with him was mind-blowing.

She needed skin-to-skin contact. He must have been thinking the same thing, because he took her face in his hands, slanted his mouth over hers, and pressed against her so completely, their bodies touched from chest to thigh, the warmth of his bare skin searing her own.

Something in her warned she was in way over her head. But once, just once, it felt amazing to let go, regardless of the potential fallout. There was something here. Something worth risking it for, even if only for two weeks.

The minty taste of him, mixed with champagne, filled her senses as his big body continued its rhythmic pressure against her. The need had built to the point she whimpered.

“I know. Me too,” he rasped, nipping her earlobe.

Gasping for breath, she raked her nails over his scalp, and he groaned. He ran his tongue over her neck and his hands cupped her breasts. Her nipples were so hard, it was almost painful, and when he circled them with his thumbs, she exhaled through her teeth with a hiss. Shocks of pleasure bolted from where his thumbs stroked her to where their bodies pressed together lower.

Cool air rushed over her as he pulled away, hands still caressing her breasts. And then, right when she thought she might gain her sanity again, he leaned down and flicked a nipple with his tongue. She shuddered, glad she was seated. Amazed, she watched as he flicked the other one, then planted his mouth over her breast in a hot, sensual kiss, hands wrapped around her rib cage holding her immobile.

Ordinarily, being pinned like this would be unpleasant or maybe even scary, but for some reason, with Will, it was liberating. She didn’t have to do anything. She could simply revel in the sensations caused by his hot mouth and powerful body and give herself over to the pleasure of his touch. And the pleasure was considerable.

He moved his attention to her other breast as she watched transfixed.

“Never have I wanted anyone like I want you. Never.”

Ditto, she agreed in her head, but was too caught up to even manage that one word.

He ran his tongue in a circle around her nipple, but not over it, which made her light-headed and one shade short of insane. Then his hands trailed down her sides and over her thighs, and back up again before he took that breast in his mouth as he had her other. She cried out with pleasure as he barely scraped his teeth across her erect nipple. Too much. Almost too much, yet not enough. His hands skimmed across her belly on their path down her body, then under her skirt and up her thighs, leaving goose bumps in their wake. When his fingertips ran under her panties and lightly sifted through her curls, her lower body tightened with a jerk. “Easy,” he said, pulling away from her breast to look up at her.

It had been a long time since she’d been touched by a man like this. Honestly, she’d never been touched like this—as if her pleasure was the most important item on the agenda.

“Do you want me to stop, Claire?” he whispered against her ear, hand still between her legs. “Because I will if I’m out of line or pushing too hard.”

She tried to answer, but she was too lust-dazed to form words. The best she could manage was a shake of the head.

“Thank God, because I really want to feel you come.”

Oh, magic words. It had been ages.

She whimpered when he pushed the lace aside and his fingers explored her folds, sending electric bolts through her body. “I can’t even tell you what being near you and touching you does for me,” he said.

She couldn’t tell him what it did for her, either, because she couldn’t talk; she could only feel, as her body hummed and heated with need from his touch. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on as he slipped a finger inside her. His mouth covered hers, cutting her cry short. Then he began moving his finger in and out in a rhythm that matched the thrust of his body against hers and the strokes of his tongue in her mouth.

This was so much more than physical, she realized as his talented fingers and mouth brought her closer to the edge. She needed to be touched and pushed. Longed to step outside of her role as a caregiver. Wanted to be taken care of. Have someone else make decisions while she just took for once.

And take, she did. She took everything he had to give as he slid a second finger inside and rubbed his thumb over her most sensitive part, making her turn her head away from his kiss to gulp air. He was gasping for breath too, as her body trembled at his firm, rhythmic touch. Bringing her pleasure turned him on, and that thought was almost enough to transport her to the place she sought.

“Yes, Claire,” he said, increasing speed. “I need to feel you break apart. I want to take you there.”

She moaned.

“Yeah,” he said. “Share this with me.”

Her heart hammered so hard it hurt, as her excitement built like a volcano. He made it sound like her pleasure was a gift to him. God, could he be any hotter?

“Mmmm,” he murmured in her ear. “You’re close.”

Damn right. So close she couldn’t breathe. She dug her nails into his shoulders and held on for dear life as he pushed his fingers farther inside at the same pounding rhythm, his hot breath swirling around her ear.

And there it was. Like her own private fireworks show, waves of ecstasy washed through her, making her see those proverbial stars behind her eyelids. She felt like she was screaming, but couldn’t tell because of the intensity of her orgasm. It was like her whole body was screaming. Holy shit. She’d never felt like this. And it went on and on as he continued stroking her relentlessly until the waves finally subsided and she went limp in his arms.

What on earth? Maybe her reaction resulted from finally being free, or maybe because it had been so long since she’d been intimate with someone, but most likely, she acknowledged to herself with a nervous twinge, it was this particular man.

As he slowly slipped his fingers from her body, her muscles contracted around him as if trying to hold him there, and she wished she could. She needed more of him. As much as he’d give her.

…

Will had never had this kind of reaction to a woman before and it unnerved him. It took everything in him not to shuck his pants and shove himself deep inside Claire right there, in the limo, which was not how he had intended this to play out. “My God, what you do to me, Claire.”

And then she did something completely unexpected. With lust-darkened eyes, she gave him a pointed stare and motioned him closer. Without hesitation, he complied.

“I want you, Will,” she said, slipping first out of her shirt and bra, then her skirt, reclining against the leather in nothing but lavender lace panties. “Now,” she said, leaning forward to undo his pants. She parted her legs and pulled him even closer.

Heart hammering, he knelt on the floor between her feet, hips between her knees, and once his zipper was down, she lifted his shirt and ran her warm hands over his abdomen. She leaned forward to kiss a trail from his sternum to his navel, then shoved his jeans and boxers down, freeing him.

An involuntary groan escaped his throat as he ran his fingers over the lavender scrap of lace barely covering her, feeling dampness through the sheer material. And right as he slipped his fingers under the elastic to remove this final barrier, his phone rang.

Fucking “Smooth Operator” played from his phone in the door pocket. He should have turned it off.

She groaned and leaned back against the seat, legs on either side of him, lavender-clad heaven still within his reach. “Just take his call and get rid of him,” she groaned.

“Dammit!” He had to take the call or his brother would probably send Chance out to find him. “Hold on a fucking minute,” he shouted into the phone before putting it on hold. He’d talk to him, but not with his pants down. He slid his clothes back in place but stayed unzipped to save that time when he got back to Claire. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “Don’t move.”

She grinned and ran her fingers over herself. “Even to do this?”

“Especially to do that.” Fuck, she was hot. He’d kill Michael for this.

Taking a deep breath and not looking at Claire, he plopped his ass in the seat on the opposite side of the limo facing her. When he went to push the “resume call” button, he noticed a text from Jim: 5 mil.

Clarify, Will texted back.

$5,000,000 wired into Claire Maddox’s account yesterday. Source unknown.

He looked over at Claire. Her hair was fanned across the back of the seat and she looked completely relaxed with her legs just far apart enough for his hips to fit between her knees.

Five million dollars was a shit-ton of money. Surely there was a valid explanation other than that she was on the take. There was no way she was the spy. No way in hell. He’d ask her about it and clear it up after he spoke with his asshole brother.

He pushed the button. “Okay. What’s on fucking fire, Mikey?”

“Obviously your pants. Chance tells me you’re out with the Maddox woman.”

He shot a look across at Claire and she smiled. “Yeah. Don’t start.” He needed to be careful with what he said so she wouldn’t get the wrong idea—or so she wouldn’t know what was actually being said if Michael came unhinged over his dating a sort-of employee.

“I thought she was our prime suspect?”

Will kept his voice calm and conversational. “Not anymore.”

“Do you have evidence to clear her?”

“Not yet.” He tried to make it seem like a friendly conversation from his side.

Michael’s voice rose even louder. “So you’re fucking someone who might be fucking us over?”

Will turned so his head was between the phone and Claire. “Not yet, but I hope to be soon.” A quick glance at Claire revealed she had pulled her knees together and was sitting upright. He pressed the phone tighter against his ear to muffle the sound in case she could hear, which he knew was impossible over the road noise and soft music playing. “Please keep your voice down.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Will! I gave you one simple task.” Will fumbled with the volume button on the side of the phone, but didn’t find it before his brother shouted, “I told you to find out who the spy was. I didn’t tell you to fuck her.” Will hung up on his brother, but it was too late. From the opposite side of the limo, Claire was shaking, staring at him like he’d sprouted a third eye.

She didn’t say anything for what felt like an eternity. This was bad. Real bad. Like drop-and-cover bad.

“Smooth Operator” started up on his phone again. He ignored it.

He held his palms up and used the most soothing tone he could conjure. “Claire…”

“Don’t.” It didn’t even sound like her voice. It was distant and threatening. “Don’t say a word.” She snatched her bra from the floor and put it on.

“Please let me explain.”

Michael’s ringtone finally shut up and she grabbed her shirt from the seat next to her and struggled to turn it right side out, still trembling. “Some things defy explanation. They defy reason.” She wrapped the shirt around her and tied the bow with a hard jerk. “Or logic.”

His gut burned like he’d swallowed a bottle of Drano. “I’m sorry.”

“Some things also defy forgiveness, Will.” She picked up her skirt and wrestled it over her legs, snapping it closed with a pop. “Tell the driver to pull over and let me out.”

“No.” He couldn’t. Not until he explained.

“I’ll press kidnapping charges. Don’t think I won’t. Let me out.”

Fuck. “Please. Give me five minutes. If after that you want out, we’ll pull over.”

“How could you possibly expect me to trust you to make good on your word after what I just heard?”

“Because what you heard isn’t what it sounds like.” Only, it sort of was, he realized grimly. “Because it’s important that you not leave thinking the wrong thing. Because what you think and feel matter to me.” He slumped into his seat as the truth hit him. “Because you matter to me.”

They stared at each other as “Smooth Operator” struck up again, followed immediately by “Kung Fu Fighting.”

“You have five minutes. Then you’re going to let me out.” She put on her glasses and glanced at her watch. “Go.”

Chapter Nine

Will turned his phone off and threw it on the seat behind him as he moved over to Claire’s side.

“No way. Stay as far away from me as possible.” She pointed to the corner opposite her.

He moved to where she indicated. “It’s not what you think.” He pushed the button to talk to Jacob. “Please drive directly to Miss Maddox’s apartment.”

“Yes, sir.”

She stared at him, unblinking. He looked almost helpless slumped in the seat across from her. Almost. She knew better. She’d heard his brother.

It all made sense now. She never could quite wrap her head around why a man like Will Anderson would want to spend time with her. Well, now she knew. He wanted to pump her for information. Literally. A wave of nausea tumbled through her.

“To think I almost…” She couldn’t look at him. “That I let you…” In her peripheral vision, she saw him squirm and she thought about what he was doing to her when Michael had called and interrupted them. Thank heavens he called. “My God. I was about to…” Her sentence fell off into a sob. How could she have been so stupid?

“Claire. Please listen.”

Her shock had shifted to anger—pure and sharp and deep—clawing its way up from her gut and ripping straight through her heart on its way to the surface. She’d been mad at Eric for his selfishness, confused and hurt when she found her mother’s letter, and sad when her grandparents had died, but she’d never been betrayed and used—and at this moment, the only thing she was sure of was that she would never let it happen again. Never.

“You were going to sleep with me to find out if I was a spy? What kind of spy?”

“Someone is poaching clients using inside information.”

A cold chill ran down her spine. He suspected her of spying on his company. “You were on a recon mission, huh? Just a job, wasn’t it, Will?”

He had a stricken look on his face. “No!”

“Why on earth did you and your brother suspect I was a spy?”

“Because you fit the description given by clients. You started work right when the cases began. You have access to the information. You understand the value of antiquities. And you have five-fucking-million dollars in your bank account as of yesterday.”

Well, if she thought she was mad before, she had to redefine it now. Will had just raised the bar for furious. “Stop the car.”

“Hell, no.”

“How do you know about the money?”

His eyes shifted to his lap before they met hers. “I overheard you talking to Heather on the phone about being rich and leaving the country. About not liking people snooping.”

She thought back over that conversation and saw how in light of the other coincidental things, that could have been misconstrued, but… “I never specified the amount. How do you know how much?” Then she remembered the guy who’d asked Heather about her. And Will knew where she lived even though she had not put it in her Anderson file. Angry prickles shifted up her neck. “You had me investigated. You’ve got some super-spy thing going on, don’t you?”

From the look on his face, she knew she’d hit it on the nose. What she really wanted to do was hit his nose. “What else did you find out about me? That I eat ice cream right out of the container and dance naked in my living room?”

“You do?”

“No! I was making that up.” Sort of. Actually, she was kind of trying to come off her anger a bit since she could almost see how he would suspect her. It still gave him no excuse to sleep with her if he thought she was stealing from his business. Something was still off.

“You said you’d give me five minutes to explain. So far, I haven’t gotten to do much other than defend myself. Please hear me out,” he said, hands clenched in his lap.

She leaned back and crossed everything she could cross, making herself as closed off as possible. “Five minutes.”

He grabbed his knees and leaned forward. “I came into town at Michael’s request. He had evidence that there was a spy working at the auction house.”

She glanced unseeingly at her watch. “Four minutes left.”

He frowned. “At first, you looked like a good candidate, but then I came to your office—”

“To get evidence and information out of me.”

“No! To get my coat back. But you were cute and funny—and hot. And you have a great ass.”

“You’re pushing your luck. Three minutes.”

“Bullshit. I have not used two minutes.”

She smirked and recrossed her legs. “So you decided you wanted to bang me and find out if I was the spy.”

“Yes…I mean no. I mean, I wanted to get to know you—”

“Bang me and find out if I was the spy.”

“Date you. I knew you weren’t a spy the minute I touched you.”

“So your fingers and lips are spy detectors? You should hire out, Mr. Anderson.”

He ran his hands over his hair. She suspected he’d have pulled his hair if it were long enough. “You said you’d hear me out.”

“Two minutes.”

“You are unbelievable!” he said, scooting to the edge of the seat.

“And you used me, Will. You never cared about me. You saw a way to get information, and being military-trained, you selected the most effective weapon in your arsenal, your body. And I fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker. Well-played.”

He slid off the seat and scrambled toward her, then stopped on his knees just short of her. Her heart hammered in her chest as the smell of him filled her nose. Her heart and mind may have been furious with him, but her body was still gunning for a joyride.

He took a deep breath. “Listen to me. From the moment I touched you in your office, I knew you were incapable of doing something underhanded like divert deals.”

“How on earth could you know that by touching me?”

“I’ve spent years of my life relying on instinct to keep me alive. I can tell a lot about a person simply from watching them and even more from talking to them. But when I touch you, there is nothing false. No layers. If you were hiding something, you wouldn’t be like that. Hell, you certainly wouldn’t be walking on the edge by going out with me.”

He almost fell over onto her as the limo swerved and pulled to a stop.

“We’re here, Mr. Anderson,” Jacob’s voice called through the speaker.

“Thank you.”

She gathered her purse and scooted to the edge of the seat to launch. Will put his hand on hers. “Please, Claire. I never thought you were the spy.”

She ached seeing him on the floor of the limo on his knees like that. “Michael does.”

“No, he doesn’t. That’s why he’s frustrated and mad at me. We have no clue who it is.”

Jacob opened the door.

She started to exit the car and Will tightened his hold on her hand. “Don’t. Nothing I said or did was a lie. You know it. We have something. You feel it, too.”

She did feel it. She was falling for this man and it was killing her. She had to end this now before she was in so deep she’d never climb out. She pulled her hand away and stepped out of the car. “I’ll be in the office in the morning to get my things. Consider this my resignation.” She spun on her heel and headed up the sidewalk, hating how dramatic that had sounded. She couldn’t go back to the office, though, knowing they thought she was a thief.

She heard his footfalls on the sidewalk behind her. Why hadn’t he just stayed in the car? This sucked so bad she couldn’t stand it, and prolonging the inevitable was making it worse. She was done.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop right outside her doors. “Look at me. Really look at me.”

She raised her eyes to his and her heart pinched at the absolute sadness in his expression.

He released her. “I understand why you’re mad. You have every right to be. I’d be mad, too. God knows I’ve been screwed over by someone, and I know exactly how you feel: betrayed and used, and it makes me sick that of all people, I’m the one who made you feel that way.”

She had to look away. It was like slowly ripping a scab off a wound to see the pain in his eyes.

With his fingertips, he gently turned her face back to his. “I did not use you, Claire. The only calculation behind touching you was to bring you pleasure. I spent time with you because for the first time in almost a year, I wanted to be with someone. I still want to be with you, but if you can’t, I understand. I’ve been where you are, and it’s a shitty kind of hell.”

He looked away with a defeated shrug. “In retrospect, I should have told you about the investigation, but honestly, it was a nonissue as far as you and I were concerned, and I expected to find out who it was and end the matter altogether. I didn’t want to muddy up our two weeks.”

She really didn’t know what to say. Her mind kept flipping from images of them together, to the horrible sinking feeling of hearing Michael yell about investigating her on the phone, to Will’s explanation just now. She was afraid if she said anything, it would open the floodgates. She needed to rip the rest of the scab off quickly. “Good-bye, Will.”

She barely heard his quiet response. “Good night.”

Determined not to stand and watch him leave, she walked away first, not looking back as the doorman held the brass and glass door and it closed with a whoosh behind her. It wasn’t until she had shut and locked her apartment door that she allowed herself to break down.

…

Will didn’t know how long he stood outside Claire’s building. It wasn’t until Jacob cleared his throat that he realized he was standing anywhere at all. He had been lost in his own selfish, inner temper tantrum, railing at life, fate, and himself.

Dammit. He wanted this woman. He wanted her more than he’d wanted anything ever, and not just physically. That was the real problem; he didn’t just want a two-week fuck-a-thon before she took off. He wanted her to stay.

He had hurt her. She’d trusted him and he’d betrayed her. Not intentionally, but intentions didn’t matter in a case like this. She hurt as much as if he’d done it on purpose, and he was completely helpless to do anything more about it. The ball was in her court now.

Jacob cleared his throat a bit louder this time. “Are you okay, sir?”

Will took a deep breath. Letting her go was the right thing to do. He’d stay away from her and let her heal. “I’m fine, thanks. I’m ready to go home.”

Jacob opened his the limo passenger door. “Not to the office, Mr. Anderson?”

Yeah, that was the original plan and where he’d intended to stay until Michael got back, but he was done now. She didn’t need to worry about him lurking when she came in to clear her office, and he didn’t need to be hiding, either. It was better for both if he stayed away for a day or so. Even if it was the last thing in the world he wanted to do.

“No. I’m going home.”

Less than an hour later, Will wandered from room to room like a zombie. Hell, he pretty much was one. He ran his hand over the polished wood of the kitchen table and fought the urge to slam his fist into something.

Beth had wanted to live in the city and this house had been his compromise. It was a restored historic home in an upscale Long Island neighborhood that backed up to a small lake and gave him the nature and open space he sought with the proximity to Beth’s social scene she had demanded.

Like a sentimental fool, he bought this place before his first deployment and had imagined raising kids here. During that first tour of duty, he had it restored by an old college buddy who owned a remodeling company and then worked side by side with the contractor when he returned in order to complete the job before he was deployed the second time.

Beth had hated it. When he brought her here as a surprise, she made no effort to hide the fact that she would not live here. Her ugly words echoed in his head as if it had happened yesterday, instead of three years ago. For his remaining two and a half weeks in the country, she made him tour every overpriced, sleek, modern apartment in the city. Thank God he hadn’t put money down on one.

“Kung Fu Fighting” chimed from his phone. He pulled it from his back pocket and hit ignore. He didn’t need to talk to Chance right now. For a moment, his finger hovered over Claire’s contact in his recent calls list.

“Dammit!” he shouted. He needed to leave her alone. She’d trusted him. She’d been open and genuine with no artifice and he’d unwittingly hurt her.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket.

That was the key to the attraction, he realized. Beth was always worried about what people would think based on how she looked or what she had, so she cloaked herself in the trappings of success and status. Claire was never anyone but who she was. Genuine and giving.

And now she was gone.

He opened the cabinet above the refrigerator and pulled out the unopened bottle of scotch his now-ex future father-in-law had given him at the engagement party. Will hadn’t gotten shitfaced since he had returned to the States eight months ago and read in the paper that his fiancée had jilted him. After that, he had promised his brothers that he would never drink alone again. His promises used to mean something. But then, so did the words, “I love you,” until Beth had twisted them.

Will pulled the cap off the bottle. Eight months was long enough.

…

Claire rolled over and switched on her bedside lamp. There was no way she was going to be able to sleep, and that really pissed her off. She needed to escape from the jumble of mixed thoughts and feelings duking it out for dominance in her brain. At the moment, her desire to be with Will pummeled her common sense.

She stepped into her slippers, shuffled to her desk, and flicked the mouse to wake her computer. Maybe working on her itinerary would put her to sleep.

After a few minutes of staring blankly at the calendar while images of Will filled her head, she decided if she were going to agonize and obsesses over the guy, she might as well go all the way.

Pages of links to articles from local news sources, as well as tabloids, loaded simply from searching his name and city. Seeing his picture made her heart race faster. So tall and handsome, whether in a tux at an opera debut or in his fatigues for a military shot, William Anderson took her breath away.

And it made her ache all over. She had totally fallen for him and he’d only been using her. Her breath caught in her throat. She was so confused. Deep down, below the layers and layers of hurt and anger, she still believed they really had something special—that he cared for her.

The facts as she knew them and his explanation on the ride home had parried back and forth in her brain ever since he had dropped her off. And honestly, it was a dead heat. She got why she would be a suspect, for sure.

But Will had said he believed her innocent, even in the face of all the strange coincidences and circumstantial evidence.

She scrolled down and read the name she’d seen in several articles and photo captions out loud. “Bethanne Carmichael.”

Then she clicked on the next article. Local Socialite to Marry War Hero. Will and Beth made a fantastic couple. Both perfect as they smiled at her from her screen.

Skimming through the articles, it seemed like they were everywhere all the time: premieres, restaurants, parties, charity events, even a dedication at the zoo. She flicked through the entries, but stopped short at the bottom of the third page of links. Carmichael-Anderson Wedding Canceled.

Claire expected to find a dry article announcing the end of the engagement, but instead found a horror story. The press had had a field day. By the end of the first paragraph, she’d covered her mouth; by the third, she was holding her breath; and by the end of the article, she was fighting back tears. “That bitch!” Claire stammered in disbelief. It was a wonder the guy didn’t hate every female on the planet. She’d dumped him in the tabloids, and they’d covered his return by posting a photo of him on crutches and wearing a cast fielding questions about the breakup, rather than what he’d accomplished in service to his country. Beth had totally stolen his spotlight. “Give ’em what they want,” Claire whispered. Obviously, a celebrity breakup would sell better than a simple “hero returns” story. Best of both worlds.

It was the next article, though, the one about what had happened to his unit in Afghanistan, that ripped out her heart out and stomped it flat. Will and two other men on his mission had been injured in a roadside ambush. Even with a broken leg, he’d managed to drag the two to safety. God, to go through that, and then return to find out he’d been jilted.

Claire wiped away a tear and picked up her cell phone on her nightstand. He was only a phone call away. One simple push of the button. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not until she sorted out what had really happened between them.

After brewing some chamomile tea, she shuffled back to bed. Sleep or not, she couldn’t torture herself with looking at pictures of Will anymore. It was troubling how much she felt his absence after only this short while, and what she’d just read made her stomach churn. Bethanne Carmichael had better hope she didn’t meet up with her in a dark alley someday.

Chapter Ten

When Claire turned in her notice the next morning, Beverly asked her to finish the catalog she was working on before she left because she was the best editor they’d ever had and it was imperative it be finished in time. She had reluctantly agreed, for Heather’s agency’s reputation more than anything. It would only take the day to finish it, though honestly, she found it impossible to focus and at the rate she was going it could take her remaining week and a half.

Through her open door, she watched Chance go in and out of Michael’s office several times, but there was no sign of Will. Not that she’d expected him to show up today. Still, her heart stuttered every time someone entered the lobby, and sank every time she realized it wasn’t him.

After lunch, a crew delivered and set up rental chairs and a platform in the lobby, turning it into a makeshift stage for the private auction scheduled that night. While a woman affixed a skirt to the platform, Chance paced the lobby like a caged animal. Several times, he glanced over at the elevators as if waiting for someone.

When it appeared he was heading for her office, Claire snapped her attention back to her screen, adrenaline screaming through her body in a tingly blast. What on earth could he possibly want with her?

He stood right outside the door. “May I speak with you, Miss Maddox?”

Claire placed her hands in her lap to keep from fidgeting. “Sure.” He was smaller than Will, with brown hair that touched his shoulders. Piercing blue eyes like his brother’s studied her face as he got closer. He had the same whatever-it-was that all three brothers had, but he didn’t appeal to her in any way like Will did. Nobody had ever appealed to Claire like that.

“I hate to ask you this, but have you spoken with Will today?”

Prickles rolled over her skin. “No.”

He shifted uncomfortably and looked over his shoulder into the lobby. “Neither have I. He hasn’t answered his phone since he spoke with Michael last night. I was hoping you might have—”

“I haven’t.” She tried to focus on her screen, but she couldn’t, and he didn’t leave. “Maybe you should talk to Jacob.”

“Okay. Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “That’s not the only thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

She leaned back in her chair and waited. His manner was nothing like Will’s assertive, direct approach.

He glanced over his shoulder out the door to the lobby, where the crew was still setting up chairs. “As you can see, we are prepping for an event tonight, and I really hate to ask it, but we could sure use some help.”

“I gave notice today and removed my name from the list to work tonight. I only agreed to stay until this catalog is edited, and I’m almost finished.”

“I know.” He twisted a ring on his right hand. “Beverly told me. I’m asking you to reconsider. We will only need help with check-in.”

“Why are you asking me rather than Hig…Mrs. Higgins?”

“Because it was an excuse to ask you if you’d heard from Will.”

Well, at least he was honest. She took a deep breath and met his steady gaze. Did he think she was a spy, too? His brother Michael did for sure. But Will didn’t. That much she was certain of. Maybe working this auction would demonstrate she had nothing to hide. Maybe not. Maybe the real reason was that deep down inside, she really wanted to see Will again and clear the air. He’d appeared crushed outside her apartment last night. After what she’d learned about him online, she knew she should at least let him know she understood why she would be suspect.

Chance leaned forward. “We really could use the help. Please reconsider. We’ll pay double for the event.”

Like that mattered. As Will pointed out so eloquently last night, she had five-fucking-million dollars in her bank account. The only reason she was even finishing up the work in front of her was because Elite Placement had a good working relationship with this company and she didn’t want to make Heather look bad. Be responsible, Claire. “Okay. I’ll help out.”

The trademark Anderson dimples made an appearance as he smiled at her across the desk.

…

“Open the fucking door!” Chance shouted from the front porch of Will’s house. “I know you’re in there.”

Will rolled over and landed on the floor in front of the sofa with a thud he could hardly hear or feel over the pounding inside his skull. He could, however, hear his little brother banging on his leaded glass front door.

“You break that glass, and I’ll make you eat every last shard of it,” he tried to shout back, but could only manage a croaking sound as he struggled to his feet. When he opened the door, his little brother strode into the living room without a word. Will didn’t even have to look at his face to know what he was thinking. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” Chance picked up the almost-empty bottle and strode to the kitchen, dropping it in the trash can with a bang that bordered on a sonic boom as it rattled around in Will’s brain.

“Well, you would be an expert.” It was a low blow, and he knew it.

His brother’s voice remained level. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you, Will.”

He slumped into his favorite chair and pressed the heels of his palms to his temples. “Why are you here?”

“When you didn’t respond to Michael’s calls and texts, he sent me over to see if you were okay. If I found you dead, I was supposed to leave you here to rot and stink the place up.” He wrinkled his nose. “You’ve already started that process, obviously. But since you’re alive, I’m going to sober you up and haul your ass into the office before the auction.”

Will started to shake his head, but stopped when it felt like it would cause brain damage. “No way am I going into the office today, or tomorrow, or ever again for that matter.”

“Something has come up. You have to come in.”

“No.”

“I’m going to tell you about the new information, then you’re going to haul your sorry drunk ass to the shower, and then come with me to the office.”

Will dropped his hands and looked up at his brother’s face. Chance was standing over him with his arms crossed over his chest. On a good day, he might be able to hold his own with Chance, even with all his martial arts training. This was not a good day. “What came up?”

“Last night, Polly Guidry told me that she was visited by an attractive, petite blond woman who suggested she not sign over her items with us, but to sell them instead to a private buyer who was interested in the entire collection. Polly could sell it all at once with less hassle and immediate results in cash. Of course she didn’t accept and we are still handling her account.”

Shit. “When did this happen?”

“Two days after Polly met with Michael. That was week before last.”

Will scrubbed his hands over his face and tried to clear his partially fermented brain. Claire had been working in the office at that time.

Chance moved to the fireplace and leaned on the mantel. “I showed her a picture of Claire I captured from surveillance video. She didn’t recognize her, but I thought if they met—”

“This is completely unnecessary. I already know she’s not involved.”

“You’ve spent time with her, and I’m sure you’re right, but this will prove it once and for all and clear the issue for Claire as well. She’s agreed to work the auction tonight.”

“The fact that she even agreed to be at the auction of a client who’d been approached indicates her innocence.”

“So it would seem, but we need something concrete for Michael—something more than only your instinct ruling her out. This should do it.” Chance shoved his hands in his pockets. “Someone needs to casually get the two of them together to see how Claire reacts and see if Polly recognizes her in person—her voice or whatnot. I thought you were the best candidate.”

Will covered his face. “You got that wrong by a mile. It can’t be me. She’d bolt.”

“Well, I can’t do it. I’m on monitor because our night guard’s baby was born yesterday, and since no one could reach you”—Chance gave him a pointed glare—“I acted in your place and gave him the week off. The stand-in doesn’t start until tomorrow.”

His brother had every right to be angry. Hell, he’d even slipped up in his job, which was way out of character. It was time to get his shit back together. Will stood and stretched, trying to wake up his sluggish body and mind. “I’ll take over surveillance and you deal with Claire. I can’t do it. I’m not shitting you.” Though he’d love nothing more than to talk to her, she’d made it clear that was not an option.

Chance grinned. “Deal.”

After a long shower and two glasses of ice water, Will had evolved from hideous creature to something just shy of human.

“You look like shit,” Chance said from the seat across the limo.

Will didn’t bother to meet his brother’s eyes and continued to stare out the window. “I feel like shit.” On every possible level.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Chance shrugged and finally looked away. “I’m here if you need somebody.”

“I’m fine.” God, he sounded like a dick. His brother was concerned and had every right to be. “Well, I will be.” They pulled up in front of the Anderson Building. “Thanks for coming by my place. I probably needed the rescue.”

His brother met his eyes. “You’re welcome.”

…

It was almost closing time when Claire spotted Will following Chance into Michael’s office. He didn’t even cast a look in her direction. Ever since he’d dropped her off, she’d thought about him and had actually started softening to his side of things, but his deliberate avoidance was irritating.

Her phone buzzed from her desk drawer. She pulled it out and slammed the drawer shut. She thought he would have at least acknowledged her presence.

“Hey, Mr. Sinclair,” she answered. “I hope you have good news for me.”

“Indeed, I do,” the familiar voice responded. “The hold has been lifted, and the money wired into your account is now available for use.”

Under ordinary circumstances, Claire would have screamed and danced around in a circle. She was rich—really rich. Something she’d never been before. For some reason, this amazing news didn’t make her feel like dancing. All she could think was that it was one more step toward leaving New York City behind. Her gaze moved to the closed doors across the lobby. She’d be leaving Will behind, too. “Thanks. You’ve been amazing.”

Heather picked up on the first ring, as had been her habit lately. Nothing like potential gossip.

“I’m stuck here late. Let’s go to dinner when I’m free,” Claire said. “We’re gonna celebrate.”

Heather’s voice was so loud and shrill she had to hold the phone away from her ear. “Oh, my God! You got laid.”

If only. Claire stood and looked out the window at the gridlocked traffic in the street below. “No. The money has been transferred and is available now. You know what that means.”

“Woo! It means you’re rich! Text when you’re done,” Heather said. “Be ready to dish on your date with your hunky man.”

He wasn’t her hunky man. Sadly, he never would be.

…

Will stared at the bank of monitors that fed from security cameras placed strategically throughout the office. He had muted the audio on all but the one in the main lobby. Every now and then, Claire drifted through a screen and a cold, sad wave of regret washed through him.

He watched her talk to an elderly man inspecting a topaz necklace in one of the auction lots. In her trim suit, she looked professional and businesslike, but every bit a woman, and he knew exactly what that woman looked like under that suit. Even knowing he’d lost her, his body reacted. If only he could go back and do things differently.

Polly Guidry and her new man arrived. She’d been a client since Will was a boy, and he’d recognize her anywhere. Her complicated and remarkably large hairstyle was…unforgettable. On the top right monitor, Will watched Chance go into action. He strode over to Claire and spoke with her a moment, then he led her toward Polly.

This was it. Will turned up the volume on the monitor where Polly was visible. Unfortunately, Claire was facing away and the room had a ton of background noise, so he couldn’t hear them talking. It appeared from the visual that casual, introductory pleasantries occurred and then Claire wandered off to meet up with one of her coworkers. Polly continued gabbing with her cronies as if nothing had happened. Chance looked up at the camera and shrugged. Will sat back in his chair satisfied. The girl he’d come to know just didn’t fit the profile, and he’d known that all along.

The door opened with a click behind him. Chance entered wearing a grin. “Case closed. I called Michael and he’s satisfied ruling her out.”

“There was never a case. I told you she didn’t do it.”

“You sure did.” He closed the door. “And now you have to discover who’s really doing it. But that’s not the biggest problem right now,” Chance continued, studying the monitors. The prospective buyers were arriving and filling up the seats. Will scanned the two screens that covered the lobby but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

“There,” Chance said, pointing at the screen on the bottom left that focused on the elevators.

Holy fuck. Will’s stomach dropped to his feet. Beth was there, working the room. He hadn’t seen her since before his last deployment and had hoped never to cross her path again. He lowered himself back down into the chair, unable to pull his eyes away from the woman he hadn’t seen in years. The one who’d rendered him little more than a shell almost a year ago.

“Wonder what she’s doing here?” Will said, more to himself than his brother. “It’s by invitation only.”

“Her mom is friends with Polly. And just so you know, she was asking for you. I told you she broke up with her boyfriend and was sniffing around again.” Chance pulled a rolling chair over from the desk in the corner and sat beside his brother at the bank of security monitors. “Grilling every person wearing an Anderson badge. If I were you, I’d stay in here. She’s on the hunt. You’re prime prey.”

Prey. Will shook his head and watched Beth pretend to be interested in something a middle-aged man was saying while her eyes scanned the room like the predator Chance had described.

The auctioneer stepped up onto the raised platform and slid behind the lectern. By security standards, everything was running like clockwork. By emotional stability standards, everything was completely fucked up. Beth popped up on another screen as she wended her way around the outside of the room, chatting up every AA employee. And then his heart completely stopped as she approached Claire. Seeing the two of them together made him scoot to the edge of his seat.

“Holy shit,” Chance said. “Claire’s going to throw down. Look at her body language.”

Sure enough, tiny Claire was squaring off with Beth, if not consciously, then instinctually. She stood straighter as they spoke and clutched the sides of her skirt in fists. Then she pointed to her left. The two women moved from one screen to the next, as Beth followed Claire into a small conference room between the elevators and Claire’s office. This room was fully visible on the screen.

“Turn up the volume,” Chance said.

Will hit the volume console button for screen seven, and both men leaned closer. There was no background noise, so it was easy to make out the conversation.

“Okay. Why are you asking about Will?” Claire asked in a harsh tone.

Beth crossed her arms over her chest. “How did you know my name out there?”

“Newspaper articles,” Claire said, gripping the back of a leather chair pushed under the slick cherrywood table. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

It was a smile Will had seen at least a thousand times—Beth’s preening smile. She loved attention and being singled out as important or special. Most people did, probably, but it was what Beth lived for. “Well, yes, I am a bit of a celebrity in some circles.”

“Not in mine. What do you want with Will Anderson?”

“I don’t see that it’s any of your business.”

“You need to leave him alone.”

“And you are?”

“Nobody.”

Beth’s expression darkened to a condescending smirk and she gave Claire a theatrical perusal from head to toe. “That much is obvious.”

“Look,” Claire said, shoulders back, head held high. “I’m asking you as a friend to step back and leave him alone. You’ve done enough damage.”

“You are not my friend,” Beth answered.

“Nor do I want to be.”

Beth flipped her dark hair over her shoulder and took a step closer to Claire. “That means you think you’re Will’s friend. Is that it? Are you his lover? I heard he had one now. I just never expected him to pick up an office girl.”

“Uh-oh,” Chance said, eyes glued to the screen.

Will’s gut churned as he watched his ex take another step closer to his…what exactly was Claire? Whatever she was, she was no match for Beth and he didn’t need intervention on his behalf. He could handle Beth himself. He stood. “I’m going down there.”

“Nuh-uh.” Chance grabbed his arm and jerked him back. “Let Claire handle it for now. Look.”

Will turned his attention back to the monitor. Claire had stepped out from behind the chair and was moving closer to Beth. “You listen to me, and listen closely, Bethanne Carmichael. I am not Will’s lover, nor will I ever be. We’re not really even friends, but let me tell you what I am. I’m someone who hates bitches. And while I’m a ‘nothing’ as you say, I’m not a bitch.”

“How dare you!” Beth sputtered.

“No. How dare you!” Claire circled to the other side, standing between Beth and the door, which Beth was eyeing. Will held his breath, having no clue what would happen next.

Beth tried to saunter past her, but failed when Claire stepped sideways to block her.

Claire was facing away from the camera over the door, but her voice was loud and clear. “You dare to come back here to contact him after you dumped him like that? Really?” The look on Beth’s face was almost comical with her eyes huge and mouth drawn tight. It was probably the first time in her adult life that Beth had been challenged.

Claire stepped aside and pointed to the door under the camera. “Go home. Go home and leave him alone.”

Will had expected Beth to bolt out the door when given the opportunity. Instead, she balled her hands into fists at her sides. “You have no idea what it was like. He came home that first time wanting to put me in a tiny house isolated from everything I loved.”

“What about him?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said he was isolating you from everything you loved. You wouldn’t have been isolated from him. Didn’t you love him? Isn’t that why you’re here now, so you can get back together with him? That’s what Mallory said you told her when you made your rounds in the auction area.”

“I don’t even know who Mallory is,” Beth said, shifting a couple of steps toward the door.

Claire moved in even closer. “Did you ever love him, or did you only love what his money and power could do for your social life?” She backed Beth into the corner of the conference room. “Did your new guy not get you in the papers enough? Did you miss out on some premieres, or God forbid, have to wait for a table at a restaurant?”

Chance chuckled. “I hope this is being recorded.”

Beth’s brow furrowed. “What do you want from me?”

Again, Claire’s back was to the camera, so Will couldn’t see her face. “I want you to go away and leave Will Anderson alone. He’s one of the nicest, most generous people I’ve ever met, and he deserves better than you. He’s a war hero and you’re…you’re a selfish bitch. Get out before I lose it. Get out now.” Her voice broke on the last word and Beth bolted from the room like a scared rabbit. In the monitor, Will watched her enter an elevator and leave the building. He sat back and took several deep breaths as Claire slumped into a chair, back still to the camera, and covered her face.

“If you say one fucking word, Chance, I’m going to take out all my anger on you instead of a punching bag at the gym,” Will said. “Because I really want to hit someone right now.”

“So did Claire,” Chance said, pushing the chair upright and rolling it back to its original position. “I wish she had.”

“You’ll be taking your teeth home in a bag if you don’t shut up. I’m not kidding.”

“I’m not either.” Chance put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I don’t know what happened between you and Claire that made it where you can’t even talk to her, but if I were you, I’d fix it.”

When Will looked back up at the conference room monitor, Claire was gone.

Chapter Eleven

Heather was already in their favorite booth with a glass of merlot when Claire arrived. “Hard day at the office?” she asked with a grin, dragging out the first word while wagging her eyebrows up and down.

The clumsy sexual innuendo was not appreciated. The altercation with Beth had shaken her up and left her in a crappy mood. “Today was my last day. I’m not going to finish out my temp time.”

Heather’s face clouded. “A phone call to me first would’ve been nice, you know. I’m the owner of the agency who placed you. It makes me look bad.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have told you first. I acted on impulse.” She pitched her purse onto the seat and slid into the booth opposite her friend. “I can’t stay until the end of next week. I need to be packing and other stuff so I can get to Egypt.”

“That’s not why you quit and we both know it.” Heather picked up her glass of wine. “I never pegged you for a runner.”

“I’m not running. I’m taking care of business. I don’t need the money anymore.” Which was and wasn’t true. She didn’t need the money, but she sure as hell was running. Just being in the same city with Will hurt, and sharing the same offices was excruciating. When she’d defended him to Beth, she’d spoken the truth—he was one of the nicest, most generous people she’d ever met. And in her heart, she knew he’d been honest with her. He hadn’t used her. He wanted her like she wanted him.

Heather took a sip and studied her over the rim. “What do you need?”

William Anderson. “Dinner.”

Heather flagged down the waitress and they ordered. “Done,” she said. “Now, tell me why you are really bailing early. What did he do?”

“Nothing. It’s not about him. It’s about me. What I need and want.”

“And that is?”

“Freedom.” What she really needed freedom from was the killer ache in her chest.

Heather held up her glass for a toast. “Well, you got your money. Nothing’s holding you back. Here’s to freedom.”

Claire clinked the rim of her glass to Heather’s feeling anything but liberated. Part of her was tied here—just a tiny thread of her heart wrapped around William Anderson, and she wasn’t sure it would stretch all the way to Egypt.

“You can always talk to me, you know,” Heather said, squeezing Claire’s hand.

“I know. I just…” She was lucky to have a friend like Heather. Still, she was so confused and conflicted about what was going on between her and Will, she wouldn’t know where to begin. No doubt she’d fall apart if she even tried. “I’m still sorting things out.”

After a long, awkward silence, she decided it was time to change the topic to something emotionally safe—something not about William Anderson or her impending escape to another country. “Anything good going on at your temp agency? New clients or funny stories?”

Heather shook her head. “Nope. You?”

Ah. A safe topic, one they both loved: Egyptian artifacts. “We had a new one come through from a past client. The guy didn’t have an appointment, but came in with a really cool private collection of canopic jars. He had all four and the stoppers were beautifully carved.” In addition to loving Egyptian artifacts, Heather was totally into the macabre and these were right up her alley, since they had been used to store vital organs when a body was mummified.

“Nice.” Heather’s eyes lit up and Claire knew she’d successfully turned the conversation away from her shredded heart.

“You want to see them?” She turned her phone screen toward Heather and flipped through the photos she’d emailed herself from the client file.

“Where on earth would someone get canopic jars?” She took Claire’s phone and studied the photos.

“The client had inherited them from his grandfather, who held mummy unwrappings on his kitchen table in the late eighteen hundreds. He said his grandmother still remembered the parties.”

Heather handed the phone back. “Enough of mummies and boring office biz. Let’s talk about why you and Will Anderson aren’t lip-locking anymore instead.”

So much for steering the conversation to safer ground. “Let’s not.”

The waitress finally delivered their food and the rest of dinner was uneventful. Without any real heartfelt enthusiasm, she talked about her upcoming plans to travel the world—plans that used to make her giddy with excitement.

After dinner, she hailed a cab to take her back to her lonely apartment, where she was haunted by the memories of her amazing adventure up against the door with Will. Things weren’t so different for her since Sissy’s death after all. She was still plagued by if onlys and might have beens.

…

The rumble of Will’s motorcycle dimmed the noise of the city around him, but couldn’t drown out his thoughts. As he drove home after the post-auction cocktail party, all he could think about was how fierce and loyal Claire had been when confronting Beth. If only things had been different. If only he had foreseen the effect of the investigation on her. If only.

I’m not his lover, nor will I ever be. In her mind, it was over, but he couldn’t seem to let go. He knew she’d be more receptive if he gave her more time too cool off, but she was leaving soon and he didn’t have time.

The light turned red and he pulled up behind a cab with an ad for a new Broadway musical stretched across a mini-billboard above the trunk. The ad depicted a happy couple with sparkly grins and their arms around each other. And they lived happily ever after was scrawled across the bottom in swirly gold letters.

The light turned green and the cab inched forward, but a car stuck in the intersection forced him to endure staring at the 2-D happy embrace a little longer. That’s what he wanted: a fairy-tale ending, even if the happily ever after only meant two weeks.

Traffic started moving again and the cab switched lanes and turned. He would give anything for another chance—anything, including doing something risky. But hell, what was left for him to lose? Will took a right at the next light and right again, heading back in the opposite direction.

…

Claire rolled up another coffee cup in bubble wrap and placed it on top of the others in the box. She’d thought that packing would bring back that anticipation of leaving she craved. Sadly, every item she placed in the box felt more like a nail in the coffin than a step toward adventure.

Telling Beth off had felt fantastic, but at the same time, it made her sadder for what she was missing—a big, hot, honest, kind man with painfully talented hands. And other talented parts, too.

Her phone dinged again as Heather left another voicemail. She appreciated her friend’s concern, but right now, she just wanted to be left alone.

She sighed and wrapped another cup. By Monday, she’d have enough of her stuff boxed up to start moving it to storage. Then she’d leave this big, loud city behind. That’s what she’d always wanted, right?

No. Not anymore. She wanted Will. More than money or even Egypt, and the realization sucked. And with that miserable thought, she crumbled to the floor, wrapped her arms around her knees and cried. She was long overdue for a cry, and damn, it felt good.

The banging on the door caused her to jump. The doorman hadn’t called to announce a visitor. Maybe it was a neighbor. Something had damned well better be on fire for someone to knock on her door after ten o’clock.

Barefoot and wearing warm-ups and a T-shirt, she wiped the tears from her face, wandered to the door, and stood on her tiptoes to peer through the peephole. Will was the last person she had expected. She opened the door without hesitation as her heart did a somersault in her chest at the sight of him filling her doorway. The closed look on his face, though, gave her pause.

“I’m sorry. I had to come. If it’s a bad time, I can go,” he said.

And then his facial expression made sense. He was protecting himself.

“No. It’s okay. I was packing up some stuff. Come on in.” She sniffled, and realized she must look a mess since he’d interrupted her cry. “How’d you get in?”

“There’s only one guy down at the desk at night. He’s gotta go pee sometime.”

She stepped aside and he entered, stopping right inside the doorway. Instead of his usual confident demeanor, he was tentative. It must have been hard for him to come here. Risky even. She knew now that he had been sincere and that meant there was a lot at stake for him—just like there was for her.

“Look, Will, I—”

“Wait.” He held his palms up. “Please. I need to say some things.”

As if a hole had opened up in the floor, she felt like she was sinking.

“I know I hurt you. And it was inexcusable,” he began. “And I was probably taking things too fast, so I understand why you thought—”

“Stop.” Her voice was much louder and more forceful than she’d intended. Time stood still as they stared at each other, gauging each other. She didn’t want their relationship to end. “Yes, I was hurt, but you didn’t do it on purpose. You get why I was upset, and I get why you did what you did. That’s it. An ugly set of circumstances.”

He stood straighter, his face relaxing slightly, but he didn’t respond.

“As for taking things too fast, they couldn’t go fast enough for my tastes,” she said, relaxing a bit herself. “They still can’t.” She regretted blurting that out until the look in his eyes completely changed. It was as if they had darkened and deepened. She could drown in those eyes.

He wiped a remaining tear from her cheek with his thumb, then held out his arms and she stepped into them, loving his warmth and the faint smell of mint.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair.

“Me, too. I’m glad you came by. I didn’t expect to see you again, especially in light of our game of ‘keep away’ going on in the office.” She pulled back enough to look into his face so she could read his reaction.

His smile was bittersweet and dimple-free. “I couldn’t stay away. When I watched you with Beth through the security cameras, I knew I had to try to talk to you, even if you turned me away.”

Turning him away would have been impossible. “How did you and Beth end up together? She doesn’t seem like your type. She’s so…”

He dropped his arms from around her and took a step back. “Self-absorbed?”

She nodded. “You guys were together a long time, though.”

He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He looked away and exhaled.

“How about a drink?” she offered, heading toward the bar to get some distance between them. Being in his arms again had put her body into an adrenaline frenzy.

“Nah. I’m driving, but I’d love a soda or some water.”

He followed her to the kitchen where she pitched him a bottle of water from the fridge. She pulled one out for herself and bumped the door closed with her hip. “You don’t have to talk about Beth if you don’t want to. It’s just a little confusing to me. I’ll be honest. I don’t like the woman.”

He leaned against the counter and twisted the top off the water bottle. “I met Beth at a frat party during my junior year of college. I wanted nothing to do with her.” He slid the cap into his pocket. “She felt differently.”

He took a sip from his bottle, staring at the cabinets over Claire’s shoulder, avoiding eye contact. She knew this was hard for him. “Beth represented everything I grew up with and wanted to get away from: society, the show of money, prestige. It seemed like no matter where I went after that, she was there. It turned out that she had known who I was since our freshman year and I’d never even noticed her.” He smiled, but it was not a happy smile, and it made Claire’s chest ache. “She resented the hell out of that—probably still does.”

Claire cranked open her own bottle and took a sip, waiting while he stared off into space for a moment.

“It became a running gag with my frat brothers that I had a stalker. After a semester of supposedly coincidental meetings, I started actually looking forward to seeing her. She was familiar by that point. So I finally asked her out.”

He took another chug of water and then set the half-empty bottle on the counter behind him. “Turns out we got along really well. Both sets of parents were over the moon about us dating. I mean, hey, an Anderson-Carmichael union would be like uniting two small countries in their eyes. Peace, love, and glitter-shitting unicorns.”

She laughed. He gave her a slight smile and continued. “Beth said she wanted the things I wanted, but it was all an act.”

“What kind of things?”

He shook his head. “Open air, quiet, a family eventually.”

“So you asked her to marry you.”

“No. She asked me.” He ran his hands over his closely cropped hair. “Honestly, when I look back on it, I should have seen the signs. I was projecting what I wanted, rather than seeing what was really there. I just kept looking for rainbows.” He took a slow, deep breath. “Even in Afghanistan, I kept chasing those rainbows.”

Claire knew all about chasing rainbows. Rainbows obscured the reality that crept up on you in the middle of the night when you realized your mommy wasn’t ever coming home. Or when the screams of pain started in the next room because the morphine pump wasn’t enough anymore.

They stared at each other until she felt a little dizzy. She knew what he’d been through and how much he’d been hurt. “I’ve been told that sometimes, there’s a pot of gold at the end of those rainbows. I’d sure like to find it.”

This time when he smiled, his dimples showed. “Me, too.”

She couldn’t help but smile back at him from across her small kitchen.

“You up for a little adventure?” he asked. “I’d love to show you something.”

There were lots of things she’d like him to show her. Maybe her pot of gold was closer than expected. “Sure. You’re the boss, Mr. Anderson. Set the agenda.”

…

Will loved the feel of Claire on the bike behind him with her arms wrapped around his torso. At first, she had tried to maintain some distance, but before long, she was resting fully against him, and it felt so right.

He turned into his subdivision and his heart rate kicked up a notch. He wished it weren’t nighttime so that she could get a better look around, but the streetlights created pools of light that were big enough to give her the gist of it. His need for her to like his home bordered on irrational. He made a right at the second stop sign and took a deep breath. She was leaving in a little over a week, so in truth, her liking it was neither here nor there. Maybe he just wanted affirmation that the house he had restored and loved had value. Or maybe he wanted the girl he was falling for to value it, too. And with that thought, Will knew he was completely and totally fucked. He had it bad for this woman. Fate had thrown him a bone he couldn’t chew and it pissed him off.

Claire’s arms tightened around his body and she let out an excited squeal when they passed a large bush in front of the house two doors down from his. “Whoa! Did you see that bunny? There was a bunny! Like the hoppy, cute, white-tailed kind.”

“There are lots of them.” He turned into his driveway and parked the bike under the overhang in front of the garage. “Off you go.”

His body felt cool where her arms and thighs had been. He got off and flipped down the kickstand as she walked out to the middle of the yard to check out his house. He held his breath, waiting for her verdict. The last time he’d brought a woman here, it hadn’t gone well. Beth was less than impressed.

“Wow. This is perfect. It’s your family’s?”

He almost laughed. The Anderson Foundation would never invest in a small, restored, historic home. Islands, high rises, Riviera condos? Yes. Long Island bungalow? No. “It’s all mine.”

Claire made no attempt to hide her enthusiasm over the house and it made him want to kiss her right there under the porch lights in view of the neighbors. But he didn’t. He planned to take it slow this time.

“I love this, Will. No wonder you don’t like coming into the office.”

“Want to see the inside?”

She bounced on her toes and nodded. Claire was excited, and it made him feel alive for the first time in years.

She ran her fingers over everything she passed as if committing it to memory—counters, furniture, cabinets—as he gave her a tour of the house including the kitchen, dining area, living room, office, guest room, and his bedroom. Only, she didn’t run her fingers over anything in his bedroom. She clasped her hands in front of her as if resisting the urge, but her eyes kept straying to his big king-size bed. So did his. Time to change the unspoken subject screaming at them through libido-powered speakers.

“There are swans in the pond out back,” he said.

“Swans?” she squealed.

That broke the bedroom spell, he thought with a smile, pleased by her enthusiasm. “My lot backs up to a big neighborhood pond, and a family of swans has set up camp in my yard. A grown pair and three cygnets.”

“Can I see?” She charged out of the bedroom and headed straight for the back porch door.

He caught up with her before she opened it. “Not at night. It upsets them, but you can see them sometime in the daytime.”

She turned to face him and stood very still. “Maybe I can see them in the morning…”

There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to have her spend the night. Nothing. The problem was that he had decided to take it slow this time. “I didn’t bring you here to have sex. I’m interested in more than that. I want us to be friends. To get to know each other better. We’ve been given a do-over. I want to play it differently this time.”

“You can’t be serious,” she said, arms crossed over her ribs.

Part of him wanted to deny it. To carry her straight to his bed, rip off her clothes, warm her up until she screamed, then bury himself inside her until the world went away. But he couldn’t. She needed time. “I’m dead serious. If you feel the same tomorrow, we’ll renegotiate.”

“Well, negotiations are my forte, Mr. Anderson. You’ve met your match. Come tomorrow, I’ll show no mercy.”

He grinned. “I’m counting on it, Miss Maddox. I’ll take you home now.” He pulled the motorcycle key out and gestured for her to lead the way, but she didn’t budge.

“Oh, come on. It’s late and we’re tired. I’d really like to stay.”

It was a long drive, and the round trip would be miserable. Still, he wanted to prove his sincerity in taking it slow, and having her here all night would make that close to impossible. Maybe he’d drop her off and then sleep at the office. “You staying is a terrible idea.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Why? Do you think you can’t control yourself?”

Pretty much, yeah. “Of course I can. It’s your self-control I worry about,” he teased.

She walked past him to the bedroom, wandered over to his bed, sat on the edge, and slipped off her shoes. “I have an iron resolve. Do your best.”

He sat next to her. “Really, Claire. It’s a bad idea.”

“Going home is a bad idea. Even if it were only a block away, I wouldn’t want to go back there tonight. I want to stay here with you, surrounded by your arms rather than my grandparents’ stuff and the memories of their suffering. I’m leaving soon.” She took a deep breath and gave a helpless shrug. “We don’t have to mess around, I just don’t want to be alone.”

Neither did he. He’d been alone way too long. “Deal.”

Her grin was worth the self-restraint he was going to have to summon to make it through this.

After digging up an extra toothbrush from his cabinet for her, checking into the security status of the other Anderson properties, and rolling his bike into the garage, Will changed into gym shorts in the bathroom as a layer of insurance. Sleeping in the nude like he usually did would not help at all. Hell, the shorts wouldn’t really help either, he realized, staring down at the woman he’d dreamed about sharing this bed with since he’d met her. Only in his dreams, she wasn’t wearing warm-up pants and a T-shirt. And she wasn’t sound asleep, like she was now.

Part of him was glad she’d drifted off before he joined her. It made her easier to resist, which was getting harder to do; the reasons to resist made less sense every minute.

In the blue moonlight coming through his window, he studied her beautiful face. She’d curled up on her side near the far edge of the bed, facing out. Her hand was tucked under her chin and her gold hair was fanned out on her pillow, spilling onto the mattress. He quelled the urge to run his fingers through it.

Calm, easy breaths came through her parted lips, which he wanted to kiss as much as anything he’d ever wanted in his life. But he didn’t. He needed to earn her trust back. And going back on his word wasn’t the way to do that.

He slid under the covers on the opposite side of the bed, focusing on her even, relaxed breathing. “You’re a rainbow, Claire,” he whispered right before he drifted off to sleep himself.

Chapter Twelve

Will remained perfectly still until he got his bearings—a habit left over from his days in the Marines. At some time during the night, Claire had snuggled against him, and at that moment, the feel of her was setting off alarm bells and waking every part of him.

More than one alarm was going off, he realized, as a shrill chime sounded from her side of the bed. She murmured something under her breath and grabbed her phone from the nightstand, silencing it. “Freaking Heather won’t leave me alone,” she said, shoving the phone under her pillow and rolling back against him again, filling him with a red-hot desire that made his pulse hammer and his cock swell. All his fine intentions of going slow seemed silly now. Ludicrous, actually. “What time is it?” he asked.

“Just after two,” she answered.

“Technically, tomorrow. Time to negotiate, Miss Maddox.”

“I have a proposal for you.” She pushed back against him and he groaned as her hot body pressed against his erection. “I take that vocalization as an acceptance of my proposal, Mr. Anderson?”

He slid his hand under her shirt and cupped a breast. “Your proposal meets my approval, and is accepted with enthusiasm.”

“You’re lifting the ban?”

He rolled her to her back. “Yes. I’m lifting the ban…and the covers.” He threw them off. “And your shirt.” He pulled the bottom of her shirt up, exposing her breasts, then ran his fingers over her amazing, soft skin before following with his tongue. She made a gratifying moan and squirmed. “And these pants need to go as well,” he said, untying the cord that held them in place. He pulled them, along with her thong, down to her ankles. “In fact, let’s get straight to business and just get naked. What do you say?”

“I like the way you think,” she said, ripping the shirt over her head and kicking the pants the rest of the way off.

“I like the way you think, too, but right now, I also like the way you look.” She was absolutely beautiful stretched out on his bed wearing nothing but a sexy smile and her socks. He ran a hand from her throat, trailing slowly between her breasts down to her belly button and back up again, forcing himself to take it slow.

He trailed his fingers down her body again, enjoying how her muscles tightened and her breaths became shallow and rapid. He loved the way she reacted to his touch.

Her voice was breathy. “I think our collaboration is working very well so far. What do you think, Mr. Anderson?”

“Best project I’ve ever worked on,” he said, leaning over to run his tongue over her nipple. It took everything in him to not roll on top of her and move things as fast as his body wanted. He was almost crazy from need.

“Lose those shorts,” she said. “Because I need you inside me, like quick. Like now.”

He chuckled. She felt the same urgency he did. “Feeling bossy, are you?”

She sat up and pushed him onto his back, her intent to take charge and move things along clear. Amused, he laced his fingers behind his head and relaxed—well, most of him relaxed. “I think you should be in charge of this project for a while. It’s your turn to be the boss, Miss Maddox.”

“Position accepted,” she replied in a husky, throaty tone that made him even harder. She lifted the elastic from his body enough to get the shorts over his aching cock, and to his delight, she stopped, mid-thigh, and simply stared at him as if she’d opened a present. The unguarded lust on her face made his balls tighten in anticipation. Thank God for the spy, whomever it was. Had it not been for her, his brothers wouldn’t have called him into the office and she wouldn’t be here right now.

“This project has moved beyond the planning stage, Mr. Anderson.” She pulled his shorts off the rest of the way and pitched them over her shoulder with a grin.

Heaven. He’d absolutely died and gone to heaven, he thought as she crawled up the bed over his body and then straddled him. She made a raspy sigh as their naked skin met for the first time. He closed his eyes and reveled in the sensation of her slick heat. Then she placed her hands on his chest, and rubbed forward and back. Too much. He didn’t want to lose it. He grabbed her pelvis and stilled her, then reached down and pressed his thumb against her in just the right place, and she groaned.

He stroked in small circles, the way he knew she liked it, and she threw her head back, resuming her forward-and-back action until both of them were close to the edge.

“Drawer,” he managed to say.

He didn’t stop making circles with his thumb as she stretched to the side, opened the drawer of the nightstand, and pulled out a small box. “You are very distracting,” she said. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes.”

She resumed her rocking motion and he found himself gasping for breath. “Open it.”

“Oh, no. I’m in charge. You open it,” she said, never breaking her tempo.

He grabbed the box and after several failed attempts to open the flap, growled in frustration. His fingers didn’t work with her grinding on him like that.

She giggled. “Need some help?”

“God, yes.” He pounded his fists into the mattress on either side of her knees in mock frustration and she laughed. He loved her laugh.

She easily opened the box, pulled out a package, and tore it open. Will had never considered a condom sexy, but Claire made it the most erotic experience ever, when she studied every nuance of the act as she rolled it on. Once in place, she met his eyes and winked.

“You make me crazy,” he said, dropping his head back on the pillow.

“I’m just getting started.” She moved up his body, pausing to run her tongue over his nipples on the way up, and his body bucked beneath her.

Her lips met his in a hungry kiss and she positioned herself directly over him again. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down so that their bodies touched all the way to where her slick heat met his hardness.

“Please, Claire.” It took everything in him not to roll her under him and thrust inside her at last. This was her show, though. Her turn. He gritted his teeth and held on as she pushed upright again.

Then she wrapped her hand around him and positioned her body perfectly to make it happen. She barely pushed down, just enough for the tip of him to enter, then froze. Her voice was breathy and he knew she was close, just like he was. “So, I’m thinking that maybe some renegotiations are in order. Another organizational meeting, maybe?”

Will took both hands and pushed down on her hips and she laughed, then gasped as he filled her. “Negotiate this, please,” he whispered.

She put her palms on his shoulders, eyes closed, balancing with him only half in. “Wow.”

Wow was right. Nothing had ever felt as good as this. He took a shuddering breath as she pressed down, letting him fill her more, moving in small pulses until he thought he might die from pleasure. She repositioned her knees and he ran his thumb over her again. Her body tightened and he couldn’t stand it anymore. He thrust up against her and she moaned. The look on her face alone would drive him to madness. Head thrown back, eyes closed, she smiled as her body adjusted to accommodate more of him. Then, finally, she relaxed her thigh muscles and sank down on him completely with a groan.

“Holy shit,” he rasped.

“Mmmm” was her response. Well, that and a tightening deep inside.

“Claire. If you don’t move, I will have survived two tours of duty only to die in this bed.”

She opened her eyes and began a slow, rocking rhythm that brought him so close to the edge he got light-headed. Then she leaned forward, hands on his shoulders, changing the angle so her body rubbed against him with each stroke and her pace increased. Never had he seen anything as sexy as Claire riding him and discovering how to bring herself the most pleasure using both of their bodies. He reached up and ran his fingertips over her nipples and she jerked, interrupting her rhythm momentarily, then he placed his palms against her, letting her rub against him at her own pace and pressure.

“Oh, man. I don’t know if this is doing it for you, Will, but it certainly is doing it for me.” She didn’t open her eyes, but her rhythm increased to the point he had trouble holding back.

Fuck yeah, it was doing it for him. Nothing could be this good. Nothing. He’d never felt this right in his entire life as she ground her body against him while he filled her completely. There was something about this woman that touched his soul and made him want to be better. “Let go,” he whispered. “Let me see you shatter.” He pinched her nipples and she ground forward and back one last time before she went off, almost taking him right along with her. But he held out, not wanting to miss a single second of her pleasure. On and on it went while her body clenched around his, driving him wild.

…

Right as the most fantastic orgasm in her life was fading, Claire found herself flipped on her back with Will on top, smiling down at her. Dang, he was beautiful, all tan skin and muscles. And hard. So hard inside her.

Then he started to move, slowly at first, gaining speed and power as he went. She closed her eyes and marveled at his strength as he worked over her, pumping harder and harder until she thought she might scream. She dug her heels into the mattress and changed the angle so that he went even deeper. Then pushed up, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“My, God, Claire,” he grated out, still pounding into her.

He was hitting just the right spot to drive her over the edge again, and she willed herself there eagerly, raking her nails down his back. “Yes,” she said as her next orgasm hovered just out of reach. This was more than physical. The intensity of their coming together was because it was him. This amazing man who made her feel special and who took her places she’d never been before, and she wanted to take him there with her this time. “Yes,” she said louder, as the stars began behind her eyelids. “Will, now!”

A strangled groan came from deep within his chest as he drove into her all the way and stayed there, pulsing deep inside her. Wave after wave of pleasure rocked through her as they came together, all sweat, and pressure, and heavy breathing.

They stayed like that, joined as deeply as possible, until Will lowered on his elbows and kissed her forehead. Breathing hard still, they stared at each other. She could gaze into his clear blue eyes 24-7 and never get tired of it—or him, especially if he agreed to make her feel like this again.

Everything in her was satisfied and warm. She’d never imagined sex could be like this. Maybe it wasn’t the sex. She was pretty sure it was the man who made the experience so earth-shaking.

He pulled out, rolled over, and wrapped her in his arms. An emptiness filled her, not only in her body where she keenly felt his absence, but in her heart. She’d never get enough of him in the time they had left together. Egypt was no longer an escape; it was a burden.

Chapter Thirteen

Will flipped the omelet over in the pan, turned the heat down, and disconnected his call with Chance. He hadn’t expected the third degree when he called in “sick” today, but when his brother figured out he was actually calling in “well,” all was good. He grinned at how “well” he actually felt. His whole body hummed with satisfaction. She was nothing short of amazing. Claire had woken him for another board meeting as the sun came up.

Grinning, he popped down some toast, divided the omelet onto two plates, and poured a couple of cups of coffee.

“Smooth Operator” sounded from his phone. Evidently, he was going to have to tell Michael that he was off the job for a while. But that could wait. He hit the ignore button.

“Hey.”

His heart gave a surprising lurch at the sound of her voice. “Hey, yourself. Good morning. How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling great.”

He noticed her hair was wet from her shower as she climbed onto one of the stools at the breakfast bar across from him.

“You look great.” He dropped a piece of toast on her plate and placed it on the bar along with the cup of coffee. She took a sip as he placed his plate and cup next to hers, then walked around to join her.

He ran his hands possessively over her ass and kissed her neck. “I’m glad you stayed last night. I can’t believe I even considered taking you home.”

“Momentary lapse in good judgment and common sense.”

“No doubt.” He slid onto the stool next to her. “I’m glad you persisted.”

“I’m nothing if not persistent.” Her phone went off in her back pocket. She yanked it out and glared at the screen. “Ugh. Heather’s driving me nuts. She’s persistent, too.”

So was he. He wanted as much of this woman as he could have for as long as he could keep her—and he wanted it interruption-free. No phones, brothers, or best friends. He’d been thinking about getting her alone and away from regular life all morning, and he had the perfect plan. “Can you take time off from your packing for a few days?”

She bit a hunk off her toast. “Depends on the incentive package, Mr. Anderson.”

He almost stooped to the level of making a package joke, but resisted. “I’ll make it worth your time, I promise.”

“Overtime?”

“As much as you can stand.”

She laughed. “Hey, wait. You promised swans.”

He picked up his plate and coffee mug, then grabbed the entire loaf of bread. “And Miss Maddox, I always deliver. Follow me.”

They spent the rest of breakfast sitting on a bench tossing bread to the swans that were mucking around in the reeds just off his deck while they talked about the remodel of his home and laughed. They laughed a lot, which is exactly what he needed most. Because of this woman, his broken soul had healed more in the last week than it had over the previous eight months. She was a drug and he was completely hooked. The DT’s when she left would be excruciating.

He studied her as she scolded one of the cygnets for swiping a crust from another and marveled at his good fortune.

And she’d agreed to spend time with him. He knew exactly where he wanted to take her and needed to make arrangements. Plate and mug in hand, he stood. “I need to make some calls. You good here?”

“I’ve never been better,” she said, “subtext intended.”

“Subtext appreciated.” He leaned down and kissed her. He wanted to just drop the damn plate and go back to the bedroom, but a swan nipped his shorts and gave them a tug, killing the impulse. She giggled and the swan honked. “I know when I’m not wanted,” he joked. He turned to the swan, which had grown to be the size of its parents, but still was tinged with its baby gray. “I see the gratitude I get for letting you camp in my yard.”

Will watched her continue to feed the swans through the patio door as he made a series of calls he hoped would make for the best weekend of her life yet—of their lives. This was for him as much as her. He’d devote himself to finding the spy when he returned, but first, they both needed some R & R.

…

Claire was surprised when Will was in too big a hurry to fool around after breakfast, and even more surprised when Jacob pulled into the driveway in the limo.

“No bike this time. I don’t want to leave it at the airport until Sunday,” Will said, strolling into the living room and opening the front door. “You ready?”

Holy crap. They were flying somewhere. And Sunday meant they’d be there three days and two nights. “Um, no. I don’t have a change of clothes or anything.”

“Already taken care of,” he said, gesturing for her to lead to the limo.

“Good morning, Mr. Anderson. Great to see you again, Miss Maddox,” Jacob said, opening the car door.

Claire ducked in and caught her foot on the rim of the door, just like before. Evidently, Will had anticipated the Claire-ism and wrapped his arms around her from the back before she crashed to her hands and knees.

“It is a good morning,” Will said, still holding her from behind. “Thanks, Jacob.” He released her and she moved to the seat at the back of the limo, heart hammering, not only from her near fall, but from having his big body mashed against her back.

“I’ll have you at MacArthur in no time. I talked to Dan and they’re ready for you.”

Will settled next to her and the door closed, making it much darker inside. Before they were even out of the driveway, he pulled her into his lap and kissed her, running his hands all over her body and bringing back awesome memories from last night and this morning. “Sorry we had so little time before we left.” He slid his hand inside her thigh, rubbing just hard enough to make her squirm. “I’ll make it up to you.”

She pulled back, wanting some answers before he got her too turned on to think straight. “Where are we going?”

“To paradise.”

She rolled her eyes. “God, that was cheesy.”

He grinned. “I wasn’t speaking metaphorically. Where we are going really is paradise. You’ll like it.”

“It was still cheesy,” she said,

Before long, Claire found herself hand in hand with Will, traipsing across a parking lot to a plane waiting next to a big metal garage-like structure. She’d only flown on commercial airlines, so the prospect of a private jet was unnerving. “Are you going to fly this?”

He squeezed her hand. “No. We have a pilot.”

Well, thank goodness. She hoped her concern didn’t show.

He shot her a sly smile. “We can work on your fear like we did with the boat thing.”

They reached the steps to the plane and he gestured for her to lead. Once inside, she sat in a plush leather seat that looked like a living room recliner with a table in front of it. A seat across the table faced hers and that’s where Will plopped down.

A man in a navy suit boarded and shook Will’s hand. After he introduced him to Claire as Dan Schlosser, the family pilot, the man went to the front of the plane and closed the door dividing the pilot’s area from the passenger space.

She searched her seat for the other part of her seat belt and snapped it shut.

“Do you need some positive association right now, or will you make takeoff?”

“I’m good.” A little nervous and excited, but good. When they left the limo, he’d told her to call those who would worry and tell them she was with him and would be back on Sunday night, late. She’d left a message for Heather. As she thought on it now, it struck her as pathetic. There was only one person in her life who would worry or even notice she was gone.

Will gave her a reassuring smile across the table.

Well, now there were two people.

“The flight is around three hours,” Will said. “Just long enough for lunch and…”

“A board meeting?”

“If it fits the agenda.”

She couldn’t imagine any physical contact with Will Anderson not fitting her agenda.

Chapter Fourteen

They landed several hours later, after they’d shared a lunch of turkey sandwiches, swapped childhood stories of their worst teacher experiences, and had a Claire Project board meeting that would have her begging to fly again soon.

“Sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Anderson,” the pilot said. “Welcome to the Bahamas.”

“Thanks, Dan. We’ll be out in a moment.”

The pilot disappeared out the small door into the brilliant light.

Claire sat bolt upright. She’d expected something down the Eastern Seaboard, not something tropical.

She met Will’s eyes and he gifted her a full-dimpled grin. “Surprise!”

She gasped and hopped out of her chair. She’d never been to a tropical beach. She made a failed attempt to finger-comb her hair and make herself presentable, but she was way beyond that.

He chuckled and rose to stand behind her. “But you don’t like surprises, right?” He pulled her back against him and slid his hands under the front of her shirt, making a yummy sound as he cupped her breasts. “Asking you to dinner that first day was the best decision ever.”

Taking Heather’s suggestion to work at Anderson Auctions was the best decision ever. He pushed tighter against her back and she squirmed. Thank you, Heather.

She’d anticipated going to a hotel when they got in the car, but instead, found herself at a harbor, then on a small motorboat alone with Will. They zipped through crystal-clear water, wind whipping through her hair and sea spray on her face, as he drove them who knew where. She felt no fear at all. Maybe it was because it was a small boat and didn’t have that ocean-liner disaster-movie feel, or maybe it was because of Will’s arm around her. And for the first time, Claire felt truly free. No one to take care of. No financial worries. No fears of the future. Hell, she didn’t even know where they were going. She was living right here, right now, and she loved it.

Will tied the boat off on a small pier jutting from the white sand into the water, then helped her out. She was pleased she made it without falling or something typically Claire. “Whoa, it’s beautiful!” she said as he joined her on the weathered wooden walkway over the water and across a perfectly white expanse of sand.

He winked. “Welcome to Anderson Island. Clothing optional.”

Her jaw must have dropped or her eyes bugged out of her head or something because he chuckled. “There is usually a caretaker, but I called her and gave her the weekend off to hang with her family. She went to the store and stocked up the essentials and left plenty of food. There’s a satellite phone I use to reach her here, at the house.”

Which explained why he had left their phones in the limo. “This is your island?”

“Not completely. It belongs to my brothers and me. My mom and dad have gifted the three of us most of the Anderson properties, and the auction business of course.” He led her up the pier past a generator toward the largest in a cluster of brightly colored concrete houses with thatched roofs.

The main house was classy and comfortable. Three bedrooms and a kitchen opened off of a central living space that was clearly made for entertaining. The ocean breeze blew through, ruffling the gauzy white curtains.

“It’s incredible.”

He held his arms out and she walked into his embrace. The Bahamas, New York City, or anywhere in between—there was nowhere else on earth she’d rather be than in his arms…not even Egypt.

“How about a swim?” he suggested.

“I don’t have a swimsuit.”

He laughed. “Neither do I.”

And then it dawned on her why he said she didn’t need anything. It was his own private nudist beach.

…

Will loved the blush that ran up her neck and face as she figured out why she didn’t need changes of clothes. To acknowledge that her two-plus-two did actually add up to four, he pulled off his shirt and shucked his pants right there in the living room. He scooped them up and pitched them into a chair. “Let’s go for a walk on the beach.” He then helped her by pulling off her shirt and removing her bra.

“Um, are you serious?”

His body was reacting to her gorgeous half nakedness, making him rethink the walk. He gestured to his rising erection. “Don’t I look serious?”

She laughed and he untied her warm-up pants. She stopped him before they fell down her legs. “I’ve read all about you, Will. The reporters get shots of you everywhere. I even saw pictures they’d taken of you and Beth on a beach by stalking you from a boat somewhere. I don’t want to go strolling down the beach naked if the world’s most humiliating Claire-ism is possible. I really don’t want to be in the tabloids. I know you’re used to it, but I’m not.”

Will consciously un-balled his fists. He would never get used to it—to the prying eyes and judgmental statements. Beth used to tip off the local society reporters when they were going out and it angered him beyond belief. “I absolutely hate reporters and the press, and avoid them at all costs. Beth was the reason I was in the papers. I would never interact with them willingly, and I wouldn’t put you in a situation like that.”

She nodded. “Fair enough.” She slipped off her shoes and shoved her pants down the rest of the way. Then she stood uncomfortably nude only a few feet from him. Hopefully, by the end of the weekend, she’d never be uncomfortable naked again.

“Let’s go check out the beach.” He grabbed two towels on his way out the door and they wandered down the soft white sand, hand in hand. He made no attempt to hide his open admiration of her body, and it wasn’t too long into the walk that they ended up turning back around to head inside so he could give her a tour of the bedroom, with a focus on the bed in particular.

…

Claire couldn’t help but ogle Will’s muscular body as he sauntered into the bathroom. He undoubtedly had the finest backside ever. She couldn’t recall ever having this much fun. In fact, she was having so much fun, it was all she could do to not roll onto her belly, pound the mattress with her arms and legs, and scream into the pillow. Instead, she attempted to get out of the bed and ended up on all fours on the floor because she had jelly knees. When Will came charging out of the bathroom with a worried look on his face, she broke out into a ridiculous case of giggles.

His furrowed brow relaxed and his dimples made an appearance. “Are you okay?”

Still on her hands and knees, she nodded. “Oh, yeah. Just a little post-orgasm Claire-ism.”

And that set them both to laughing.

He helped her to her feet and pulled her against him. She ran her hands over the hard planes of his chest and down his ridged abdomen. God, what a lotto win. Body, brains, and humor. The whole shebang in one edible package.

“Well,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “What do you want to do now? Tell me what you want, and it’s yours.”

What exactly did she want? “I want a shower.”

“Done.”

“And food.”

“Easy.”

But what she wanted wasn’t easy—not really. What she truly wanted was Will. To keep getting to know him and having fun together like this. To get naked and roll around in the sand until they looked like powdered sugar doughnuts, then rinse off in the ocean and make love in the waves. But what she found herself wishing increasingly with each passing minute was that this was more than just a fling. She wanted all of him, even his heart. But that was impossible. Her future was the Cairo Museum, not William Anderson.

Pushing down the longing for something out of reach was familiar to Claire. She’d done it her whole life. What she couldn’t suppress, though, was the hope she was feeling—something she hadn’t dealt with before. Something that made her dream about a happy ending for once.

After a shower that left both of them satisfied, and very, very clean—especially certain parts—they shared a plate of cold chicken, Bahamian peas and rice, and white wine on the porch. The sun was setting over the ocean in brilliant streaks of tangerine and magenta, looking more like a painting than real life. In fact, at this moment, with the sea breeze in her face and this amazing man by her side, nothing felt real. Even her impending trip to Egypt. If only…

Claire finished off her wine and set the glass next to her empty plate. God, she felt good. Too good. So good, she was willing to say what had been on her mind since before their shower, something her newfound hope had put there. “Come with me.”

Will smiled across the small table. Wrapped only in a bath towel, and with the sunset reflecting off the skin of his face and broad chest, he looked like a bronze statue. “Where? To the beach?” He arched an eyebrow. “Back to the bedroom?”

There it was. Her chance to play down her blurted out deepest desire, or go all in. All in. “Egypt.”

His smile stayed in place, but everything about him tensed. Not just tensed. It was as if he had recoiled from her one, simple word. Shit. She’d rushed this. It was too soon. Hell, maybe it would never have been the right time.

The high she had felt only moments ago plummeted out of the sky like Icarus, wings blazing. In her happiness, she’d flown too close to the sun.

She would not cry in front of him. “Excuse me for a moment,” she said, wrapping the towel tighter around her and rising from the wicker chair. “I’ll be right back.”

When she got to the bathroom, she slumped to the floor. Surely this wasn’t a deal killer. She’d surprised him. Hell, she’d surprised herself. She did want him to go, but a trip like that was a commitment. Maybe he wasn’t ready to go there yet. After Beth had screwed him over so bad, maybe he would never be ready again.

…

Will paced the tile floor of the porch, feeling borderline panicky, like he did right before a mission.

Why Egypt? There were very few places on earth he refused to go. Egypt was one of them. Never, no matter how compelling the reason, would he ever set foot in a fucking desert again unless it was to defend his country.

Or your heart?

Sand and heat and misery filled his memories. For years, with only a short reprieve in the middle, he’d had sand in his eyes and up his nose. Grit had coated everything he ate—every surface he touched.

Not even for Claire would he go to a desert. Will had very few absolutes in his life, and this was one. And that was the real problem here. He couldn’t go with her, so he wanted her to stay—to give them a chance. He wanted more.

He slumped back down in his chair and buried his face in his hands.

This was a woman who had sacrificed her teens and early twenties to take care of a sick and dying family member. She’d kept her hope alive by dreaming of a trip to a place that had fired her imagination as a child. She’d endured a hell worse than his in many regards. Only where he’d made it through the horrors by imagining a life with Beth at the end of the nightmare, she’d had Egypt as the carrot that kept her going.

And he’d be damned if he got in the way of someone’s dream when he’d had so many of his own shot down. He couldn’t go with her, and she deserved to know why. He had to let her follow that dream, but until that time, he’d make the most of it. Of her. Starting right now.

“Claire, may I come in?” He rapped gently on the bathroom door. Man, he’d handled this wrong. She’d extended her trust and he’d fucking sat there stunned silent and crushed it…again. He tried the knob and it wasn’t locked. He cracked the door open an inch or so. “Hey, I really want to talk to you.”

“Come on in.” She sounded good. Not like she was melting down.

He pushed the door open and his heart stuttered. She was sitting on the floor, still in her bath towel, legs kicked out in front of her crossed at the ankle. Her face was a little blotchy, but other than that, there was no evidence of tears. She was tough. A fighter.

Towel still around his waist, he sat across from her and leaned back against the cabinet. “I’m sorry.”

She held her hands up. “No.”

“Stop. You wouldn’t let me apologize last time at your apartment. This time, you’re going to hear me out.”

Her mouth snapped shut.

Oh shit. He had her attention, but what the hell could he say that didn’t fuck things up worse? He hadn’t planned this out; he’d acted on impulse…like she had. That’s it. She’d spoken from her heart and he needed to do the same. “I need to explain my reaction out there.”

When she took a breath and opened her mouth, he held a finger up and she fell silent.

“I know you think it’s because I don’t want to go with you or because it’s too rushed, or I don’t like you enough, or whatever lame excuse you have for me cooked up in your head, but you’re wrong.”

He reached out and put his hand on her slender ankle next to his thigh. “There’s only one reason I won’t go…can’t go.” He rubbed his hand up to her knee and back down to her ankle before crossing his arms over his chest. “Egypt is a fucking desert. I can’t do deserts, Claire.”

Her brow furrowed, but she didn’t say anything.

“I want to be with you. It’s why I brought you here. You and I both have acknowledged this is special, am I right?”

She nodded.

“But no matter how special this is, going with you is out of the question. I swore if I got out of Afghanistan in one piece, I’d never set foot in a desert again. Well, I got out. I was lucky, but I can’t go back. Even with you.”

“Oh, God, Will. I hadn’t even thought about that.” She may not have been crying before, but whether from relief or compassion, a tear breached the rim of her eye and slid down her face. Will kissed it away and pulled her into his arms.

“This trip to Egypt is a pilgrimage for you and I think it’s important you go. The internship is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. It’s not like you’re being deployed and will be cut off from email and cell coverage. Hell, you’ll probably get sick of hearing from me within a week.”

She laughed. “I doubt it.”

He took her face in his hands. “Thank you for asking me. I can’t even tell you how much that means.” He stood and helped her to her feet. “But I’d like to show you. How about joining me for a swim in the ocean?”

Will sighed with relief when she wrapped her arms around him and nodded.

Chapter Fifteen

Claire leaned back against Will’s chest while the water lapped over her legs and the last waves of passion subsided. The moonlight danced over the water in fragments, like her thoughts, pulling themselves back together after bliss had short-circuited her brain.

Will moved his hands up her body and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her higher on his lap. He ran his lips over her ear, his breath sounding like the wind off the water. His erection pushed against her back.

She shifted to look at his face. “I feel selfish.”

He barked a laugh and squeezed her tighter. “You are so self-sacrificing, you border on having a martyr syndrome. The fact that you let me focus on you and bring you pleasure is not selfish. You’re not taking anything away from me.”

He bit her shoulder and she squealed, body twisting, water splashing in all directions. The bite didn’t hurt, but it surprised her, and caused a jolt of excitement to zap right down where he’d touched her only minutes before.

“Don’t worry, Claire.” He pulled her back against him and nibbled on her earlobe. “Soon, I’ll be taking, and you’ll be giving.”

She shuddered as a pulse of desire flooded through her.

He chuckled. “You like that idea, don’t you?”

Nodding was the best response she could conjure. Her mouth was too dry to speak.

“So, pending your approval, of course, since we are equal business partners here, I propose to you that I prove that I can take as well as I can give. What do you think of that, Miss Maddox?”

His lips tasted like salt water and heaven as she turned in his arms, loving the feel of his wet, muscular body under hers. “I think we work well together, Mr. Anderson.”

Never in her wildest fantasies, even before everything went wrong in her life, had she imagined feeling like this. Relaxed, happy, sexy… Free. As they stood to go back to the house, she stared out across the water, trying to catalog the memory for later. Without her glasses, she could see fairly well, but things were a little blurry around the edges—sort of like her conviction to leave everything behind.

One thing she knew for sure was that nobody knew what the future held. For now, all she could do was live for each moment and enjoy Will to the fullest and let events unfold naturally.

And she did just that. The rest of the time on the island flew by in a passionate blur. They spent the next day and night snorkeling, swimming, sunbathing, laughing, and making love in ways she hadn’t known were possible.

Claire boarded the plane home having discovered many new things.

Will was terribly ticklish.

She was ticklish in certain places she hadn’t known about.

Will’s body made an excellent table/serving dish.

Will’s body made a great lounge chair, throw pillow, and overall playground.

There are biting insects in the sand at night.

Her idea to roll around in the sand was not a good one as evidenced by abrasions and bugbites.

Sunscreen application is a long and tedious process when done solo.

Sunscreen application is excellent fun when executed by Will—even when you end up not making it out into the sun afterward.

Sunburns hurt.

Bugbites hurt.

Leaving the island to return to regular life hurt.

Realizing she was madly and irrevocably in love with William Anderson…hurt.

…

After takeoff, Claire had just started to mourn the end of their trip when she met Will’s heated gaze over the small table between them. She knew that look well by now.

He unsnapped his seat belt and without preamble, stripped down to where he was wearing nothing but an erection that made her mouth water.

Oh, shit. She squirmed in her chair, heat flooding her body, as he stalked over to her. This was serious. She fought back a grin as he unsnapped her seat belt and urged her to her feet. “So, I take it this means I’m about to be a member of the mile-high club.” God, that sounded lame. Was that even a thing, or was it something she picked up in middle school somewhere?

Without answering, he pulled her shirt off, and the bra, too. Then untied her warm-up drawstring, shoving her pants down her legs. “Sit here,” he said, indicating the little table between the comfy leather chairs.

“Will that even hold my weight?” She tentatively put pressure on the table, testing it.

“We’re about to find out.” He sat in the chair and patted the edge of the table. “Right here.”

She sat on the table and he grinned up at her, making her heart hammer even harder than it was before. He positioned her close to the edge, then put her feet on the arm of his chair. He leaned forward, placing his warm palms on her knees and pushing them wider. “Now, Miss Maddox,” he said.

She almost giggled at his boardroom business voice, but bit her lip so he’d keep going.

“This is by no means the end of our collaboration on the Claire Project, but it is, sadly, the closing transaction of our business trip.” He ran his hands tantalizingly down the inside of her thighs, then back to her knees. This time she did giggle. He answered with an arch of his eyebrow, then continued. “Therefore, I would like you to be the boss this time.”

She snorted, which wasn’t very sexy, but she couldn’t help it. His playfulness was amusing, and hot as hell. “I will gladly assume that position.”

And that did it. They both busted out laughing then. With a wave of his hand, he indicated her vulnerable state, legs apart on the table in front of him, feet on the arms of his chair. “I think you already have.”

Still laughing, she put a finger to her lips and pointed at the pilot’s cabin.

He caught his breath. “No, it’s okay. He has on headphones and is under order to let us know before he comes out. Anderson policy. We sometimes conduct business during flights.”

She conjured her most serious face. “I thought that’s what we were doing, Mr. Anderson.”

Then it was his turn to snort—well, it was more like a guffaw. “You’re right. I am awaiting your orders.”

No way. She wasn’t much of a dirty talker and this was out of her comfort zone. He must have seen her reticence, because he reached out and ran his hands down her legs and trailed his fingers up her belly to her breasts, where he stroked her until her nipples hardened and sent bolts of heat straight between her legs. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered, leaning forward to swirl his tongue around her nipple.

His tongue was so hot and felt perfect, but it wasn’t enough. “Touch me.”

His mouth hardened into a smile against her breast. “Where?”

Dammit. He was killing her. “Between my legs.”

He leaned back in his chair. “How?”

She made a growly sound of frustration. At least he hadn’t made her get anatomically specific. “With your tongue.”

His sexy grin emboldened her. She looked down at his erection and grinned back. “While touching yourself.”

A surprised look crossed his face followed by that signature eyebrow arch. “Hopefully not with my own tongue.”

She busted out laughing but her amusement turned to desire when he wrapped his hand around himself and began a slow, deliberate pumping action. It was hard for her to sit still. “That is so hot.”

“Really? This turns you on?”

She nodded, mouth dry.

“As much as this?” He pushed her knees farther apart, her feet still on the arms of his chair, then leaned forward and flicked the tip of his tongue over her most sensitive part. She gasped, and he did it again. This time, she moaned.

“That’s what I thought.” Using both hands, he parted her and looked up at her face. The cool air against her wet skin sent a jolt of heat through her, and the thought of how exposed she was caused her to squirm. The table creaked underneath her.

“Will, I need…”

“I know.” He lowered his head and ran his talented tongue from bottom to top several times while she held on to the edge of the table for dear life.

The table creaked again as he fell into a rhythm that drove her wild. One hand splayed across her belly and the other wrapped around himself. She angled her body to give him better access and threw her head back, focusing on the texture and pressure of his tongue as the waves of desire grew and filled her from head to toe.

When he closed his mouth over her and concentrated on the one spot that made her wild, that was it. With only a few calculated circles of his tongue, she shattered apart, calling his name. She was completely lost, oblivious to anything but his touch and the passion rolling through her in waves.

Crack!

The table tilted and she tumbled onto his lap. Their bodies collided, causing both of them to freeze. Knees on either side of his hips in the wide, comfortable chair, she sat astride his lap, completely immobile except for the tiny aftershock tremors still rolling through her.

There was no sound except for the hum of the plane engines and their heavy breathing as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“That would be a Claire-ism,” she said.

“Or fate,” he replied.

“We broke the table.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

She slid forward and back over his erection and he groaned. “I hope you brought some supplies back with you, Mr. Anderson.”

He reached down and grabbed his shorts from the floor, fishing in the pocket. “Lucky for you, I did.”

“Lucky for both of us.”

He pulled her down against his chest and took her lips in an insistent, charged kiss. “We are lucky, Claire. The luckiest people I know.”

Chapter Sixteen

By the time they landed, Will had a new definition for lucky. Claire teased him about being the boss, but hell, he felt like the king of the world.

He slid into the limo buzzing like he’d just run the Ironman. His whole body hummed with endorphins and something else—happiness. For the first time in a very long time, Will was truly happy, and he owed it all to the woman in the seat next to him. He reached over and took her hand.

Jacob paused before closing the door. “I’m sorry about this, sir, but your brother Michael said it was urgent he speak with you. He asked you to call him the minute you land.”

He pulled both phones out of the pocket in the limo door where they’d left them, and turned his on.

“Welcome back to reality,” Claire said, taking her own phone and pushing the power button.

Michael was probably pissed he’d taken the weekend off. Hell, Mikey got pissed about everything that wasn’t on a schedule or color-coded. He’d always thought his brother needed someone in his life who would conform and follow his rules. But maybe Claire was right. The best thing for him would be to have someone come in and shake him up for once. And right now, Will wanted to shake him. Not that way, but until his teeth rattled. He could have at least given them until Monday morning.

“Well, I have good news at least,” she said, scrolling through a message. “Heather’s at my place packing for me.”

“That’s a good friend who will help you move.”

The minute his phone got a signal, “Smooth Operator” started up. “Yeah, Mike. What’s up?”

Claire shot him a nervous look, so he put the phone on speaker. Total transparency from now on.

His brother’s voice sounded benign coming through the tiny phone speaker. “I’m not going to address how I feel about company policy or what a prick I think you are, Will.”

“That’s decent of you, brother,” Will responded, winking at Claire. “So I’ll do the same.”

“Sometimes I fucking want to kill you.”

“Sometimes? I must be losing my touch.” He leaned back against the seat, knowing this was going to be long and frustrating.

“There’s been another one reported while you’ve been…out.”

That, he didn’t expect. He sat forward, phone in palm. “Do you have any details?”

“Whittle’s grandson came in with a set of canopic jars. They were diverted to another dealer the same day.”

“When?”

“The day of the Guidry auction. Whittle said he was approached by a petite blonde in a business suit around nine o’clock.”

Will didn’t answer. Claire had left just after seven. He hadn’t arrived at her place until after ten. No. Just, fucking no. He knew better. He knew Claire.

“Your girl was the only one working on this one,” Michael said. “I’m so sorry. It’s not looking good.”

He couldn’t even look at her right now. He knew she was mortified to be under suspicion again. “She’s not the spy.”

“I trust you, Will. You have great instincts. I have all the hope in the world you can exclude her, but we need to find the real spy, if she’s not the one.”

Michael’s softening toward Claire gave him hope. “Agreed. I’ll find out who is really doing this.” He shot a look to Claire and winked. She returned his gesture with a faint quirk of the lips—something resembling a failed attempt to smile.

“Good. I’ll see you when you come in tomorrow. I was successful in the Greek acquisition and flew home yesterday.” His screen went blank. Michael had ended the call and Will’s happiness high as well. Time to get serious and end this business once and for all.

…

A horrible sinking feeling surged through Claire in an intense, nauseating wave. She was the only one working on the canopic jars. She was alone in her apartment at the time the client was approached. This looked awful. No, it was awful.

The only way out of this was to find out who the spy really was. She glanced over at Will. The look on his face held nothing but concern and tender compassion. He trusted her. She needed to validate it.

“I have no way to address this yet,” she said.

“You don’t have to. I know you didn’t do it.”

There was really nothing she could say at this point. She didn’t need to protest her innocence, because he already believed it, and it sounded like Michael was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, too, but she couldn’t leave the country with this suspicion hanging over her time with Will. She couldn’t provide an alibi, because she didn’t have one. After dinner with Heather, she went straight home…

Wait a minute. She picked up her phone and flipped backward through the photos. There were the canopic jars…and the Anubis statue…and the jade necklace and earrings…and the …holy shit. Icy cold dread prickled the back of her neck and arms as a horrible realization hit.

…

Something was wrong with Claire. Maybe hearing his brother’s concerns did it, or maybe it was something else. At least Michael hadn’t been a total dick this time.

He reached over and ran his hand over her thigh and she scooted against him, tucking against his body as if for protection. “We’ll figure out who it is,” he whispered into her hair. When she didn’t respond, he settled down and simply enjoyed having this remarkable woman in his arms.

When they reached the city, she stiffened again, then texted someone. He peeked down at her screen and saw it was a message for Heather. “Wait for me,” was all it said.

Still silent, she stared out the window as if the crushing weight of the world were on her shoulders. God, he wanted to lift that weight, but he just didn’t know what it was. He would like to have thought it had to do with the inevitable end of the best weekend ever, but somehow, he didn’t think so.

The limo stopped and he pulled her even closer. “Can I stay?”

Her body was so stiff and brittle, he felt like it might break. “Heather’s up there and I owe her some girl time, you know?”

No, he didn’t know. It made no sense at all. “Sure.”

Jacob opened the door and she stepped out. Will followed, unable to let her go yet. He took her hand and Jacob walked to the front of the car to give them privacy. They stopped under the awning outside her building. Around them, the city went on as always, but inside Will, everything had stopped. “Can I see you tomorrow? I’m great at packing, you know.”

She gave a half smile. “You’re great at everything. This weekend was amazing. You’re amazing. Thanks.”

Her words had been right, but her tone was not. He took her hand. “Wait. Are you okay?”

For a minute, he thought she was going to open up, but she didn’t; instead, she pulled her hand away. “Yeah. Something came up. I just need to sort it out and everything will be fine. I’m sure it is an easy fix.” She shrugged and gave the most pitiful excuse for a smile he’d ever seen. “I’ll call.”

“Let me know if I can do anything.” He took a step closer, longing for a positive sign. Anything.

And then she pulled him down for a kiss. It was hungry and desperate—totally the opposite of their playful encounter on the plane. She finally released him and walked through the doors of her building without looking back. It hadn’t been a thanks-for-the-fantastic-weekend kiss, it had been a good-bye kiss, and he had no clue why or what to do about it.

At this point, chasing after her or calling her would be counterproductive. All he could do was wait. Will was good at waiting. He’d done a lot of it.

…

Heather was the only friend Claire really had. She’d stood by Heather when her husband walked out and then sat by her side when her nephew had his first chemo treatment. Likewise, Heather was always there for Claire when the nights with Sissy never ended, and then when things needed to be wrapped up and the funeral planned.

Which begged the question: Why?

Claire’s hand shook as she slipped the key in the lock. She had never seen a betrayal of this kind coming. Never.

“You’re back!” Heather’s voice called from the kitchen. “I’ve almost got this room packed up. How was your trip? And precisely how amazing was William Anderson, hmmmmm?”

She couldn’t even make her feet move. Her friend was carrying on from the next room as if everything were normal. She shut and locked the door.

“You’d better be ready to dish, girl, because I need some serious details.”

So did Claire. Wicked, freaking serious details.

Heather was on her hands and knees digging under the kitchen sink when she walked in. Her voice echoed from inside the cabinet. “So where did you two go?”

Paradise. But now she was in hell.

“Claire?”

“I’m right here.”

Heather jerked and smacked her head on the underside of the sink. “Ow, shit. Don’t sneak up on a girl.”

Claire crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back on the counter. Her shock had turned to horror and now bordered on fury. “I might tell you the same thing.”

Brushing off, Heather stood. And then comprehension filled her eyes. “Oh, shit.”

“My thoughts, exactly.”

“Look. I had a reason.”

“You’d damn well better have had a reason. And it had better be a good one,” Claire shouted. “You might have ruined one of the best things that has happened to me…NO! The only good thing to ever happen to me and honestly, I’m so mad right now, I want to kick your ass.”

Heather recoiled against the refrigerator, but it did nothing to stop Claire’s tirade. She’d sat in the limousine wanting to barf she was so upset. Then she’d blown off Will, who’d been nothing short of perfect to her the entire weekend. “How could you? How? You were supposed to be my friend. You just destroyed me.” Bordering on totally losing it, she slammed her fists onto the counter and held her breath. It hurt too much to even cry.

Heather held her hands up palms-out as if warding off danger. “I hadn’t intended to do it. When I placed you at AA, I’d wanted to get you in front of the Anderson brothers. You’re pretty and smart and they are hot as blazes. I figured Michael would see you and it’d be a done deal. He’s a huge player.”

“He’s a huge douche,” Claire answered, not even trying to temper the venom in her tone.

“Well, you met me for drinks and told me all about a cool Anubis statue, and I recognized it from a private collection I’d seen while working for Ed at that antique store. He’d always loved that thing and had tried to talk the owner into selling for years. But Ed’s a real jerk and nobody who meets him likes him, so I kind of figured I could help things along for the guy since he’s on his own now that his wife died.”

What. The. Hell. Claire felt a little dizzy as she tried to make sense of this mess.

“I’d found out that day that Brian wasn’t going to get his dose because my sister and her husband couldn’t afford the meds without insurance. It was the answer. No harm, no foul to the deep pockets of the Andersons, and it could save a life. I researched the piece, got the information of the owner, and pretended to be Flo Smith. I never gave them Ed’s name, but I told them that it was an alternate dealer whom the Andersons knew and sometimes shared with. Some people bought it, some didn’t.” Heather was on a roll now, and only paused for a quick breath between sentences. It was like she was barfing her soul all over the parquet wood floor.

“Oh my God.” Claire slumped to sit on the floor.

Heather knelt in front of her. “It’s not illegal. I didn’t break any laws, Claire. I swear it. The clients made as much money if not more than they would have using the Andersons. Nobody was hurt and my nephew got his medicine.”

And she’d been complicit. She’d shared photos that should have been private.

Heather took Claire’s face in her hands. “If they find out it’s me, I’ll lose my company. The Andersons will see to it. My nephew won’t get his meds.” Tears rolled down her face. “I’m so sorry. I never thought I’d get caught. I really didn’t think they’d even notice. A few deals are nothing to the Andersons. Nobody was hurt, Claire.”

“I was hurt,” Claire shouted. “I was. You hurt me, Heather.” She pushed to her feet and strode to the living room to get away. Michael had every reason to believe she was the spy. Hell, she practically was. God, what was she going to tell Will? The front door caught her eye and for a moment, her vision blurred with tears.

A sob came from the kitchen, slicing through her chest like a blade to the heart. She understood why Heather had done it, but still… “It was a freaking stupid thing to do.” She was answered with another sob.

What a mess. An absolute, horrible mess. Heather stood to lose everything: the business she’d built, the apartment she’d worked so hard for, her reputation, and she even stood to lose her little nephew if the Andersons found out. Claire simply couldn’t let that happen.

She had none of those things to protect. There was nothing here other than Will. Her heart constricted painfully. Will. She took a deep breath as the decision was made and turned into conviction.

“Okay, Heather, I have a plan.”

Her friend appeared in the kitchen doorway, face blotchy.

Claire took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “It’ll only work if you promise me you will never, ever tell anyone, especially the Andersons, that you were the spy.”

She nodded and wiped her eyes.

“And you will never interfere with the Andersons’ clients again. You’ll have nothing to do with them from now on.”

“My, God. What are you going to do, Claire?”

“I’m going to confess.”

She ran and grabbed Claire by the shoulders. “No. You can’t.”

“I can and I will. It’s the only way out and you know it. I’m leaving the country and taking the secret with me. Don’t make this any harder than it is.” A traitor tear escaped her eye. “You are my friend, my only girlfriend, and have been for years. Nothing happens to me if I take the blame. You’re ruined if I don’t. There’s simply no other option.”

It wasn’t until Heather left that Claire allowed herself to break down. Saving Heather meant betraying Will and crushing his trust. It wasn’t her time or freedom she was sacrificing, like she had with Sissy. It was her heart…and his, too.

And the worst part was that he would never forgive her for this.

Chapter Seventeen

Will walked into Michael’s office wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt, not giving a fuck about office dress code or anything else for that matter. He was going to find the spy and bury this once and for all, and he wasn’t going home until he did.

“Good morning,” Michael said from behind the desk.

Chance turned to look at him from one wing chair and gestured for him to sit in the other. Without a word, Will sat in the chair indicated.

Michael folded his hands on the desk. “She’s here.”

“Who?”

“Claire Maddox.”

His throat tightened. She was here. He would get to see her and try to figure out what was up last night when he dropped her off. “And?” She’d probably come by to pick up her last paycheck or stuff from her office. What was the fucking point of this nonsense?

The look on Chance’s face indicated it wasn’t nonsense. Serious shit from somewhere had hit the fan. “You don’t know, then.”

“She asked to meet with us,” Michael said, brow furrowed with concern. But it wasn’t worry for Claire. Something deep inside knew his brother’s concern was for him.

Will stood, panic rising, like right before a firefight.

“The three of us,” he continued.

“Where is she?”

Michael’s expression didn’t change. “She’s in the next office with Mildred. She wanted to wait until you were here, too. Sit down, Will.”

Something was seriously wrong here. She’d been so odd when he dropped her off, and now this. “I need to see her.”

Michael pushed his intercom button. “Please bring Miss Maddox in, Mildred.”

Will sank to his seat, knees unable to support him when he saw her. She was dressed in a dark brown business suit with her hair pulled back severely in a bun. Even her eyes were stark. This wasn’t Claire. It was a hollow impersonation of her. She didn’t make eye contact with him or even acknowledge he was in the room.

“Thanks for agreeing to see me, Mr. Anderson,” she said in a flat, lifeless tone. “I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

Will closed his eyes and held his breath. Surely not…surely.

She took a shuddering breath, but her voice came out in a steady, emotionless stream. “I have been contacting uncontracted clients based on information I gathered while working for your company.”

“Claire, no,” Will said.

She acted as if he hadn’t spoken. “I will not reveal with whom I worked, but he was simply going along with what I orchestrated. I was the one who made the decisions and brokered the deals. He was nothing but a front.”

Will stared at her, stunned. He refused to believe it.

“I am leaving the country permanently. I did not break any laws. I’m sorry for any damage I caused.” Her breath hitched and she closed her eyes, composing herself. “To…to anyone. I had a very good reason for doing it.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

She turned and ran from the office.

“Claire, wait!” Will shouted, running after her. He caught up with her at the bank of elevators. “What are you doing?”

She didn’t answer or meet his eyes.

“You’re not the spy.”

She pushed the button again. “I left a detailed summary with all the dates, clients, and facts spelled out.” And for a brief moment, her guard dropped. “I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am. Truly.” Then, the expressionless demeanor was raised again right as the elevator door opened. “Don’t follow me. Don’t call me. Don’t contact me. It’s over.”

Numb, Will watched as the elevator door closed. The same elevator she had been in when he saw her the very first time. He didn’t know how long he stood there, but when he turned around, both of his brothers were watching him with concerned expressions.

“She didn’t do it.”

Chance shot Michael a look before walking back to the office.

They didn’t believe him. They thought he was covering for her… Hold it. Dammit, why hadn’t he seen the connection before?

“She didn’t do it,” he shouted after them.

When he got in the office, his brothers were deep in conversation. Chance was staring out the window and Michael was in one of the wing chairs, rather than behind his desk.

“She’s right, it’s not illegal,” Chance said, hands over his head splayed out on the glass. “We wouldn’t even prevail in civil court. We don’t even have a claim for tortious interference with a business relationship, because the clients were not under contract. There might be something, but I doubt it.”

“Let it go,” Michael said. “Enough damage has been done.”

“She’s not the spy,” Will said, primarily to himself. “I know her. I trust her implicitly.”

That got Michael’s attention. He raised his eyes to Will’s face.

“Holy shit,” Chance said. “You’ve fallen in love.”

“I would love her whether she did this or not,” Will said. Sinking into the chair nearest the door. “Love is something that grew organically. Trust is different. It’s earned. She earned it and I know she didn’t do it. It isn’t possible. Love aside, she’s not the spy.”

“Love,” Michael said, voice soft. “I had no idea this was going on until Chance filled me in on how much time you’d been spending together. Then, when you took her to the island, I knew it was pretty serious.”

“I’ll prove she didn’t do it.”

“I’ve no doubt about that.” Just like their father used to do when he ran the place, Michael steepled his fingers in front of him. “But Will, you really need to prioritize. If you care for her, I think your first order of business should be to get her back.”

Will couldn’t believe it. Michael was putting a personal matter ahead of the business. That was certainly a first.

“I don’t know how you plan to accomplish that, little brother, but it’s not going to happen with your ass in that chair.”

Will stood. “Thanks.”

“Oh, and Dan called,” Michael said, dimples flickering as he fought a smile. It was good to see him smile. Will genuinely loved his brother and wanted him to start lightening up a little. Michael straightened a pile of perfectly lined up papers on his desk. “Somehow the table on the plane was broken on your flight home?”

Chance busted out laughing.

Will cleared his throat. “I can’t imagine how that happened.”

“Well, I’d rather not imagine it.” He sat behind the desk. “I’m just glad you finally found somebody worth fighting for, little brother.”

She was worth fighting for, and that’s exactly what he planned to do. First, though, he needed to make a visit to her friend, Heather.

“What are friends for?” he said, striding to the elevators one part relieved and one part terrified. These were the highest stakes of his life.

“Hey,” Chance called from where he leaned against the door of the office. “You forgot your phone.”

Will walked back and retrieved it. “Did you fuck with my ringtones again?”

“You bet I did.” A mischievous glint flashed in his eyes. “Suffice it to say you will know if Claire Maddox is calling.”

God, he hoped she called. Soon.

Chapter Eighteen

Claire stepped out of the airport into the bright Cairo sun. When she landed in Egypt, she’d resolved to stop looking over her shoulder, hoping to see Will.

Will wasn’t coming. She’d told him not to follow in no uncertain terms. She had also vowed to not keep checking her text messages every ten minutes. He wasn’t going to contact her either. Why would he? Hell, he was probably burning her in effigy right now or sticking pins in a Claire-shaped voodoo doll.

Still, like in one of those romance chick flicks, part of her kept hoping he’d burst through the customs line or shout to her across a crowded terminal, or be waiting for her in a cab, like the one she was getting into at that moment. She sighed as she slid into the empty cab to go to her empty hotel room to sleep in her empty bed.

But her heart wasn’t empty. She was still in love with Will Anderson and probably always would be. She was grateful for Heather in some regards. True, she’d totally screwed things up, but were it not for her, there would have been nothing to screw up in the first place. And even though she’d never have him for keeps, she had the memories. If only the spy had been someone other than Heather, or if she hadn’t had a heart-wrenching good reason for doing it, then she’d be with Will. She wouldn’t have had to take the fall to protect her friend.

“If only,” she said to herself on the way to her West Bank hotel. She made a promise, right then and there: no more if onlys. From now on she would have no regrets. She’d made a decision to help her friend and it was the right one. She’d do it again in a heartbeat.

…

Two weeks later, Claire had seen most of the sites near the Valley of the Kings. She’d be flying to Istanbul the next day, and honestly, she was ready to move on to a new adventure. Being alone had been good for her. People talked about soul-searching, but very few actually did it. Claire had done it, and she liked what she found.

She’d forgiven Heather, and mainly, she’d forgiven herself. She hoped that someday Will would do the same. For now, though, she looked forward to today’s excursion to the Temple of Hatshepsut—an item on her bucket list. She still had an hour before the bus, so she fired up her laptop. She smiled when a dozen or so emails loaded from Heather, who’d been message-bombing Claire every day since she left and never failed to make her laugh.

Today’s batch was different. The subject line on all of them read the same: Of interest. There was nothing in the body of the emails except a single link. She clicked the first one and was routed to an article in a local Delaware newspaper: “Anderson Auctions Company to Sponsor Restoration of Rare Pottery,” she read out loud. Since when were they in the business of restoration? She read the article to find they were funding an exhibit at a small museum in Delaware. One she’d made a donation to. There was a picture of Will with the museum curator at the bottom. It was dated the day after she fled Michael’s office.

She opened the next email and found a similar article. Will had donated money to another small museum, saving it from ruin. Again, it was one to which she’d made a small contribution.

The next five contained articles from around the same time revealing the same thing. It was as if he’d hacked into her bank account and searched out her causes.

Son of a bitch. He owned a security company. Jim was ex-CIA. They could probably do that. Her heart sped up as she opened more emails and skimmed the articles. Will’s face grinning out at her from images on the screen, dimples and all.

He said he hated being in the papers and in the limelight, yet his picture was plastered all over the place. Clearly, he’d sought out the attention. Why had he done it? He could have donated privately without calling in the papers. A chill washed through her.

It was an olive branch. Will was reaching out the only way he could. She had ordered him not to contact her or follow her. He was telling her he still believed in her. “Holy shit,” she said as she skimmed another email containing the same thing. All the stories were dated the days before she left.

She held her cursor over the last link for a moment, trying to slow her breathing. Outside the hotel, she knew life went on as usual with street noise and vendors’ calls filling the air, but the only thing she heard was her own heart beating.

She opened the link to a newspaper article from the day she flew away and read the caption out loud. “War Hero William Anderson Saves Another Life.” She skipped to the bottom of the article and gasped. It was a picture of Will with his arm around a little boy. It was Brian, Heather’s nephew. Will had pledged to underwrite his medication and cover all costs not covered by insurance once it kicked in.

He knew. And he’d started this campaign the day she left him. He’d never stopped trusting her. This was his way of proving it.

Claire yanked her phone out of her backpack and called Professor Jahi. He took the news well and told her he’d always have a spot for her if she changed her mind. Then she called her travel agent. Instead of flying to Istanbul, she’d be flying to New York tomorrow night. Hell, she’d have flown out that minute if a flight had been available. William Anderson had just trusted her with his heart. No way was this going to end in an if only.

She closed her laptop and paced from one end of her tiny hotel room to the other, hiking boots clonking on the tile floor. Sitting around until she could fly back tomorrow night would be torture. She glanced at her watch. There was still time to catch her tour bus. The Temple of Hatshepsut would be the perfect distraction.

…

Will squinted and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He’d been staring down this ramp so long, it had been burned in his brain. It was very much like other missions he’d been on, though. If nothing else, Will had a steady hand and patience.

The guard came by again and he shaded a section of his drawing a bit more. He was sure every day that this was the day one of two things would happen: either the guards would figure out he was not a history student sketching this temple in the middle of the fucking desert and tell him he couldn’t hang out here, or Claire would finally walk up that ramp.

He took a swig from his canteen and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He was almost out of provisions. He’d need to go back to that little village either tonight or the next day if she didn’t show up. According to Jim, she was still checked into the little hotel in Luxor, so his odds were good.

Stretching helped, but everything in him ached. Sitting hunkered over a sketchbook was awful. Add the desert in the mix and it was hell. He’d give almost anything for a soft bed and a cold beer. A little girl and her mother walked to the other side of the ramp to avoid him. He looked down and laughed. He couldn’t really blame them. His jeans were tattered and ripped and every inch of him was covered in sand or hair—or both. Okay, so a soft bed, a cold beer, a shave, and a hot shower.

He scanned the large group of incoming tourists who had just arrived as they approached the ramp leading up to the temple. Usually, he confined his field of vision to the twelve linear feet up and down the ramp from him to avoid redundancy and the potential for a slipup, but something had shifted. He studied the group from left to right, and stood. He’d read somewhere that there are people whose souls you could feel before you actually saw them. He’d always thought that was horseshit. Until now. He felt her. She was here.

Pulse pounding in his neck, he set his sketchbook down on his backpack, never taking his eyes off the ramp.

No, no, no, no, no, no… He ticked them off in his head. No, no, no… And the world came to a screeching halt. Yes. At the base of the ramp stood Claire. Like backup in a firefight, his future relied on her. What would she do? He had to calm his mind and stay steady.

As if she had heard his thoughts or sensed his presence, too, she turned and looked up the ramp directly at him. She was so far away, he couldn’t make out her features very well. The heat rising in visible waves from the stone ramp didn’t help either. Fucking desert.

She took a step forward, and then stopped, face still turned in his direction. Tourists passed her on either side as they climbed. She simply stood still like a rock in the stream.

“Come on, Claire,” he whispered. Still, she made no move to climb the ramp. He picked up his pack and strapped it over his shoulders. Sketchpad in hand, he took several steps down the ramp. She took several up.

Holy shit. She was going to meet him halfway. It was all he could do to not charge down the ramp full-speed.

A large group of people was between them, cutting off the visual. Still, he walked at a steady pace down the ramp knowing eventually they would meet. “Claire Maddox,” he shouted over the crowd.

People stared, but he didn’t care. His skin was burned and he was dehydrated and covered in fucking sand, and he didn’t care.

“Will?”

At the sound of her voice, he started to run. He couldn’t even imagine how many slaves and years it took that pharaoh to build this contraption, but it was way too big. “Claire?”

“Will!” She was running too. He’d caught a fleeting glimpse of her as she pushed her way toward him.

It was like a game of Marco Polo in a living sea of people. “Claire!” He sounded almost panicked. Well, hell, he was panicked. And then he saw her. She was about ten feet below him and both of them froze.

He approached her slowly, like you would a skittish animal, until he was close enough to touch her, but he didn’t.

She cocked an eyebrow and tilted her head up to look at him from under the floppy brim of her hat. “I thought I told you not to follow me.”

“I didn’t. I preceded you. I’ve been here a while. In fact, I’ve been camping in these very cliffs. Did you follow me?”

“I would have, if I’d known you were here.”

Will would’ve sworn that his heart had completely stopped. His chest sure hurt like it had. “I wish I’d known that two weeks ago.”

People passed them on either side, but the crowd from the last wave of tourists had cleared a bit.

“Have you been here that long?”

He nodded. Yes, he’d camped in the desert for her, and it had been cathartic. He’d come to grips with lots of things. The desert hadn’t haunted him and dredged up bad memories as he’d expected. Positively associating his time here with finding Claire had worked. For the first time in years, he felt whole and at peace. There was only one thing missing now, and she was standing right in front of him wearing a goofy hat and what he knew was a false look of irritation.

“How did you know I’d be here?” she asked.

“Hatshepsut is one of the big attractions. I picked it specifically because this ramp offers a great line of vision and is the only entrance.” He shrugged. “Also, it was on your screensaver on your work computer. I figured you’d show up sooner or later. Sadly, it was later.”

Hands on hips, she mock-glared. “You hacked into my work computer, Mr. Anderson?”

“Damn right, I did.” He smiled and scrubbed his hand over his whiskers. “Besides, it’s technically Anderson Auctions’ computer.”

She pushed her glasses up on her nose. “You look like shit.”

A sprinkling of freckles had appeared across her nose and cheeks since the last time he’d seen her. “You look beautiful.”

She smiled and stared down at her feet. “I missed you, Will.”

Missing her didn’t even come close to describing the hole in his life over the last two weeks.

She looked up directly into his eyes. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I really didn’t know what else to do. Heather did a stupid thing, but she did it for all the right reasons.”

“So did you.”

“Yeah. I did.”

This was his chance. The moment he’d been waiting for, and all of a sudden, he went blank. “I had rehearsed what I was going to say, but now that you’re here, I can’t remember a word of it other than I’m sorry I didn’t chase you down the second you walked out of that office. And I want to be with you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.” He tilted her chin up so he could see her face under the brim of her hat. “I want to see if we can make this work because I think we’re a good team. You make me better, Claire Maddox, and if you don’t kiss me, I think I just might die.”

And when she got on tiptoe and pulled his face down to hers for a kiss, he almost did.

“What I had rehearsed was much better than that.”

“I would hope so.” She licked her lips. “At least you packed toothpaste.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Because,” she said, heading back down the ramp, “you obviously forgot a razor.”

He followed. “I’ve been living outdoors in a desert.”

“You forgot soap, too.”

He fell into step beside her. “A desert with sand.”

“And you failed to pack deodorant.” She wrinkled her nose and fanned her hand in front of her face.

He laughed. “I slept on rocks.”

She stopped. “I haven’t slept at all, Will.”

He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “I love you, Claire.”

Her voice was light and shaky. “I love you, too.”

“Thank God.”

She laughed and turned to walk down the ramp again.

He caught her by the elbow. “Wait a second, don’t you want to see the temple?”

Glancing over her shoulder back up at the structure, she shrugged. “Nah. I’d rather go back to my hotel and get you all cleaned up and de-whiskered, because you are a lot more impressive than a bunch of stone in the desert.”

“Really?”

“No. But we can come back here in the morning. I have a flight back to the States tomorrow night because there’s something in New York even more amazing than Egypt.”

He was stunned to silence for a moment. “Really?”

“Yeah, there’s this guy I’m kind of into who lives there, but I’ll tell you all about it later. Right now, Mr. Anderson, I’m the boss and I expect you to come back to my hotel and follow my orders to the letter. This job is going to require lots of hands-on hours and I think your work history and high level of expertise in the area qualify you to be on this team.” She struck out down the ramp into the sea of people without a backward glance at him.

Hold on. “Call me,” he said.

“What?”

“On your cell. Call me.”

She stopped. “Why?”

“I’m curious about something.”

She pulled out her phone. When the call finally came through, they both busted out laughing. “I see Chance got a hold of your phone!”

“Yep.”

“So, you’re going to change that now, since you know the truth, right? ‘The Spy Who Loved Me’ is so yesterday.”

“What would you suggest, Miss Maddox?”

She stared at her watch. “Hmmm. How about ‘Afternoon Delight,’ Mr. Anderson?”

He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him. “My God, I love you.” He pressed his mouth to hers and she kissed him back with equal passion. It felt so good to have her in his arms again, and he never wanted to let her go. People moved on the ramp all around them. Their voices blended into a nondescript murmur as her hands roved his back and her tongue danced with his. Nothing was as right as being with this woman. He’d never let her go again, even if it meant touring every damn desert country on the planet. She was his oasis. The place he could go when all hell broke loose, and he planned to sit in her shade for the rest of his life.

Eventually, she pulled away, and they stared at each other, completely out of breath.

“People are staring,” she said.

“I hadn’t noticed,” he replied, pulling her in for another kiss.

Did you love this Lovestruck? Check out more of our satisfying titles here!

Acknowledgments

First, a giant heartfelt thank you to Liz Pelletier, who has been a fantastic mentor and guide for my first foray into category romance.

Deepest gratitude to the entire Entangled Team, including but not limited to Heather Howland, Candace Havens, Jessica Turner, Debbie Suzuki, Melanie Smith, Erin Crum, and my sister writers at Lovestruck.

A huge hug to Sophie Jordan for being my cheerleader and encouraging me to step outside my comfort zone. You’re amazing!

Jen L. Armentrout, you got this whole ball rolling by playing matchmaker and pushing me in the right direction—which turned out to be the bar at RT two non-consecutive years. I am grateful.

Love to Gina Maxwell for making me laugh and sending me the EAS for motivation.

Thanks to all the readers who have followed me across genres and new readers who have given me a chance with this book. Special shout-out to Shawna, Lucy, Bailey, and all my girls in Camp Clarke!

And most of all, a big thank-you to my amazing husband, Laine, and my supportive and long-suffering family who have stood with me through this wild ride from my very first book back in 2011 until now. Not a lot of people get to live their dream. Because of you guys, I’m one of them. I love you.

About the Author

Marissa Clarke lives in Texas, where the everything is bigger, especially the mosquitoes.

When not writing or reading, she wrangles her rowdy pack of three teens, husband, and a Cairn Terrier named Annabel who rules the house (and Marissa’s heart) with an iron paw. If you love young adult fiction, be sure to check out Marissa’s alter ego, Mary Lindsay!

www.marissaclarke.com

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Find love in unexpected places with these satisfying Lovestruck reads…

Tempting Her Best Friend
a What Happens in Vegas novella by Gina L. Maxwell

Tired of waiting for her best friend to see her as more, Alyssa Miller heads to Las Vegas for a romance book convention. But when Dillon Alexander realizes his best friend plans to have a one-night stand on her vacation, he hauls ass after her to make sure he’s the one to scratch her itch—commitment issues be damned. Neither of them expects their chemistry to be so explosive, but with a little help, what happens in Vegas might not stay in Vegas…

Tell Me Something Good
a One-on-One novel by Jamie Wesley

Life, and love, is too short to take seriously—a fact radio sportscaster Tate Grayson enjoys rubbing in uptight radio host Noelle Butler’s face. But when he tells his listeners men shouldn’t get married, she’s all too happy to call in and yank the silver spoon out of his overprivileged mouth. Their heated on-air arguments are a hit, but when they’re forced to do a joint show for two weeks, they must pull the struggling radio station back from the brink or they’ll lose their jobs. Or worse, their hearts.

Fiancée for Hire
a Front and Center novel by Tawna Fenske

Former Marine MacArthur Patton is used to handling top-secret government contracts and black-ops missions, but his new assignment involves something more dangerous—marriage. Enter his little sister’s best friend Kelli Landers. She can’t wait to bring Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Detached to his knees, and her longtime crush on the commitment-phobe makes her plan to seduce him even sweeter. Love wasn’t part of the plan, but soon Mac and Kelli find that more than a weapons deal is on the line…

Meeting His Match
a Match Me novel by Katee Robert

The last thing Caine McNeill needs is a matchmaker—especially a gorgeous redhead who critiques what he drives and how he dresses, and buys him a dog. But the sexy southern CEO is a challenge Addison St. Claire can’t resist. She recognizes misery when she sees it, and if anyone needs to meet his soul mate, it’s this man. Addison is determined to stick to her plan despite the chemistry flaring between them, but the only woman Caine intends to seduce is her.