by Kay Hooper
“Man was here asking about you, Raven.”
She unlocked the apartment door, but paused to smile at the manager. “When, Liz?”
“Saturday. Told him the apartment was empty and I’d never heard of you.” Her sharp brown eyes were steady on Raven’s face. “Seemed a bit upset, but a very nice man.” She described Josh Long briskly, adding in satisfaction, “A hunk.”
Raven laughed. “You’ve been watching too much television. And stop guarding me like a cat with one kitten and trying to marry me off.”
Liz sniffed. “High time you were married, at your age.”
It was a frequent comment, and Raven only smiled, waved, and disappeared into her apartment. Then she poked her head out as Liz was turning to leave and whispered conspiratorially, “He is a hunk, though, isn’t he?”
She thought about her own words later, disturbed by the flare of excitement she’d felt in knowing Josh had come searching for her. But that would never do. He’d ruin everything if he started asking questions about her. She felt a sudden chill, thinking of another handsome face, this one topped by silver hair and wearing a constant, beneficent smile.
Though dangerous, it was entirely necessary for her to return here from time to time, here, where there was no taint of Leon Travers’s deceptively charming presence, and where she could relax her ever-present guard. He would be in meetings all day today, so she had a few hours to relax and unwind before she had to be back at the penthouse to meet him for dinner tonight.
The thought of hours without the strain of performance made her voice light and cheerful when she answered the pealing demand of the phone. “Hello?”
There was an instant of silence, and then a deep, oddly husky voice. “Raven? It’s Josh.”
She caught her breath and silently commanded her heart to quit pounding so erratically. “Oh—hello, Josh.”
“You’ve been gone.”
Raven licked her lips nervously, wondering what Kelsey would think of the betraying gesture. “Yes, a job out of town.”
“I’d like to see you.”
She watched her fingers twisting the phone cord. “I have plans for tonight.”
“How about now? I’ll get a picnic lunch and we can go somewhere.”
“All—all right.” Was that shy voice really hers? A part of her mind was working swiftly. Where could they avoid being seen? “I know a place.”
“Pick you up in an hour.” He hung up.
Raven cradled the receiver slowly. So. She was, she knew, being incredibly stupid, rash, and insanely reckless. She was putting lives in danger, including her own.
And Josh’s.
She looked around the bright, cheerful apartment, and became conscious, not for the first time, of walking a tightrope between two worlds. Her neighbors in this area and the other few friends she had made considered her a laughing and carefree young woman with a penchant for taking in strays—animal and human. Someone who was quick to offer a loan and who, when not out of town on one of her frequent “business trips,” was always willing to watch neighborhood kids for an hour or take shut-ins out for groceries or a visit to a park or theater.
And at that other apartment building across town she was known as a wealthy, somewhat mysterious woman with a chill manner. A woman, it was also known, whom the police would have given much to question at length and without the limitations of law. A woman representing those who trafficked in human lives and who was herself invisibly but unalterably tarred with their evil brush.
A woman who might or might not be Leon Travers’s mistress.
Abruptly, Raven hurried through the apartment toward the shower. She felt dirty.
When Zach came into the den, he walked even more lightly than usual. For the past several days he had walked lightly even for him. It was not that Josh had been throwing objects or roaring his displeasure; Zach could have accepted that, though it would have surprised him, since open temper was not a part of his friend’s personality.
No, what had been happening these last days was much quieter and far more devastating than temper. Josh was not given to excess, but Zach had watched him drinking steadily; what was so unnerving about it was that he never got drunk. He had eaten what was put before him without seeming to notice his actions, yet had lost several pounds and it all showed in his face. He was, Zach thought, finely honed, sharpened, stretched almost to the breaking point.
Zach had seen men under stress of battle who looked like that, and he knew the dangers of it. But he was powerless. Josh had faced too many unpleasant truths in his life to allow someone else to cushion a blow for him—even if that were possible.
But now, moving lightly into the den, Zach was relieved to find something had changed. Josh was freshly showered and shaved, and he was talking on the phone, asking the hotel to pack a picnic lunch for two. Zach waited, and since he was not a man who had to be brained with a two-by-four to see something that would have been obvious to a blind man, he was not surprised by his friend’s flat statement to him.
“I don’t believe it.” Josh stood by his desk, one hand still resting on the phone, and his eyes were clear for the first time in days. “I can’t be that wrong about someone. Zach, pull in the team. Pull every string you can find, call in every favor. I want every fact in that damned dossier verified by a dozen sources, and then I want them verified. Don’t take anyone’s word for anything. Get our investigators checking her background in person.” He drew a deep breath. “This is a very personal matter to me—and I don’t care who knows it.”
Zach opened his mouth to speak, but Josh was gone. The big security man stood frowning for a moment. He had never known Josh to miss a point, but Zach thought he might have missed this one because he was too close to the problem.
Still, Zach got on the phone and began calling out the troops. But he had reservations. If Raven Anderson’s background somehow had been fabricated, the question uppermost in Zach’s mind was why.
Why would she need a background like that?
During the first hour he was with Raven again, Josh was conscious of a feeling of unreality. She was the woman he’d met in the hallway of a hotel, lovely and cheerful, with a wry sense of humor and laughing eyes. With little help from him, she kept the conversation going, never referring to her absence or betraying, by so much as a flicker of her eye, the double life she might well be leading.
And his body, at least, didn’t give a damn whether or not she was leading a double life. The increasingly familiar aching throb of desire intensified the moment she opened the apartment door, and grew steadily moment by moment. Tension wound tightly within him and his mouth was dry.
The stress of the last days had left his emotions ragged and painful, and the growing desire found a firm hold. He was half out of his mind with wanting her, and he was dimly aware he needed some kind of reassurance that she was what he believed her to be.
Following her directions, he drove to a serene little park, where they spread a blanket beneath an oak tree and enjoyed the lunch his hotel’s chef had provided.
Josh couldn’t take his eyes off her, and struggled to maintain the certainty he’d felt earlier. She was dressed in jeans and a sleeveless sweater, her glorious hair unbound and shining; her striking face was free of makeup and needed none.
Solicitation for the purposes of prostitution …
“Your apartment manager said she didn’t know you,” he said abruptly, looking down at the blade of grass he was twisting between his fingers.
Raven smiled easily. “I’m sorry. I should have warned you. Liz is very protective. Some nut followed me home a few times, then tried to find out from Liz which apartment I lived in. She called the police, and they advised her to deny that any single woman lived in the building.”
“I see.” It was, he thought, plausible.
“It backfired once,” Raven added. “There’s another single woman who lives upstairs, and when a rejected boyfriend came calling, Liz told him the place had bee
n sublet. What she didn’t know was that, to put it mildly, the guy was on the shady side. He broke in one night and grabbed everything he could carry—and he honestly didn’t know it was his former girlfriend he was ripping off.”
She studied Josh, wondering what was different about him. He looked leaner, she thought, and somewhat preoccupied; there was an almost imperceptible distance in his manner, a guarded distance. With an unexpected twinge of pain, she realized that his intent though cheerful pursuit of her apparently had burned itself out within these last days.
Telling herself that was for the best did absolutely nothing to ease her depression.
“Are you subletting?” he asked in an idle tone. “Or just staying in the apartment while your friends are gone?”
“Just staying there.” She forced a smile. “How about you? About ready to leave L.A. and go take care of the kingdom?”
Josh’s face was oddly still when he lifted his gaze to meet hers, and his smile seemed not to touch unreadable blue eyes. “No, I’m staying here for a while. I have to find out if my … my Waterloo will break me in the end.”
Raven felt her heart lurch, but told herself that he couldn’t possibly mean what she thought he did. “Cryptic comments over the potato salad,” she said lightly, gesturing toward the repacked wicker basket on the corner of the blanket.
“Was I cryptic? Sorry.” This time the smile did touch his eyes. “Just thinking of that old saying that every man meets his Waterloo sooner or later. I met mine the other night in the hallway of a hotel.”
He did mean … Raven cleared her throat. “Josh—”
“You said you didn’t have a lover.”
She couldn’t look away from those intent, searching eyes. “No. But I’m involved in business right now. I don’t have time for a relationship.”
“Make time.”
It was hardly an imperious demand, she reflected. It was something else. Something urgent and with a curious undertone of entreaty. Deep within her, she felt guarded walls begin to waver, and hastily shored them up again. It was dangerous—too dangerous—to get involved with him. There were too many problems.
“You’re about to say no.” Josh moved suddenly, stretching out beside her where she lay on her side, guiding her gently until she lay on her back. “Don’t say no.”
He kissed her before she could speak, trying not to show her the desperation he felt, trying not to reveal the tangled threads of doubt and certainty, love and fear, belief and disbelief. And when her mouth warmed beneath his, responding instantly to him, he tried to forget everything but her … the touch of her … the taste of her.…
“Josh.” It wasn’t protest or invitation; it was simply the heart’s driven instinct to say aloud a name that meant too much to say silently. She could feel muscles rippling beneath her fingers as he moved, the heat of him burning her even through the fine linen of his shirt. Burning. She could feel his fire, and every instinct warned that he was almost out of control. His lips seared a path down her throat until her sweater halted his progress, and she felt one of his hands slipping beneath the sweater at her waist.
Raven wanted to abandon herself, but then she caught a flicker of movement from the corner of her eye; there was someone in the trees only a few yards away. Even as she realized, her hand caught Josh’s wrist and she felt like screaming in frustration. Kelsey. Damn him.
Josh had obeyed her hand, his own lying still on the warm flesh of her midriff. He kissed her, a hard and possessive kiss, then lifted his head to show her darkened, flaming eyes. “Not here, I agree,” he murmured.
Raven knew why Kelsey had caught her attention; she didn’t have to look at her watch. Gazing up at Josh and feeling torn almost in two, she said huskily, “I told you. I have an appointment tonight.”
His slight smile vanished. “You won’t break it.” Not a question.
“I can’t. I’m sorry, Josh. It’s—it’s business.”
For the first time in his life Josh wanted to lose control. He wanted to take her right here, now, lose himself in her until he went out of his mind with pleasure. He didn’t want to think. He wanted her willing and wild beneath him, her body sheathing his in the heat of a primitive joining that would sear away all thought, all doubt.
But he fought silently and fiercely for control, knowing that to follow those instincts would be to betray her. And if he possessed her with such motives driving him, it could well destroy him.
When she began moving away, he didn’t stop her. Instead, he rose also and helped her to gather up the blanket. Abruptly, compelled by his doubts and fears, he asked, “Do you know Leon Travers?”
Raven was bending to get the basket and answered idly, “I suppose everyone knows of him, but we’ve never met.” She didn’t see Josh wince as though she’d struck him.
THREE
RAVEN DIDN’T HAVE time to contact Kelsey and find out why he’d been following her. Shortly after a very distant Josh had dropped her off at the apartment without saying good-bye, she drove her Pinto to the garage, exchanged it for the Mercedes, and transformed herself quickly and expertly for the role she had to play.
She was still quivering inside with the desire Josh evoked, and her heart pounded slowly and heavily with the realization that she could no longer even temporarily set aside thoughts about Josh Long. He was in her blood, in her mind and heart. She couldn’t seem to think straight, and only the certain knowledge of how dangerous that was enabled her to head for the penthouse with some semblance of her normal control.
If only Josh would be patient for just a little while, she thought. A few weeks at most. Then they could be together without all this … trouble. Holding the steering wheel tightly, she wondered if she could find a way to get him out of town until this was finished. Maybe when she got a chance to contact Kelsey, they could find a way.
She thought of Josh’s likely reaction to what she was doing, and shivered slightly. He wouldn’t like it. No man would like it. So many lies she’d have to tell him, had already told him. And lies were hardly a foundation for a relationship, although the truth was even more dangerous. Instinct told her he was not a man who would care to be deceived; he could well learn to hate her once the truth was out.
Raven gripped the wheel even tighter and pulled into the drive of the towering apartment building. She couldn’t think of that, couldn’t let herself think of that: Drawing threads of control taut within her, she concentrated on the role.
Control, Zach decided silently. That was why they were sitting in a car an hour past midnight watching the front entrance of the apartment building across the street. They were here because Josh Long had what amounted to an obsession about keeping control of his life, and the woman presently in the penthouse of this building was shaking that control.
Zach glanced at the man in the passenger seat and silently amended the thought. Destroying that control. This strained, intense man was not the one who had come to Los Angeles. Zach tried, again, to dissuade his friend from what he planned to do. “There’ll be a guard inside—”
“You studied the plans, didn’t you? There has to be a quiet way past him.”
Reluctantly, Zach said, “There’s a service entrance, likely quiet this time of night.” He paused, then added hopefully, “I’ll have to bypass the alarm system to get you in.”
“Then that’s the way.”
If Zach had been given to double takes, he would have done one then; in fifteen years, he’d never known Josh to permit any of his people to break the law. The very thought had been anathema to him. “Illegal entry,” Zach reminded him, but no longer hopefully; Josh was clearly willing to do whatever it took to get up to that penthouse secretly.
Josh didn’t respond.
“If anyone sees you going into Leon Travers’s building,” Zach commented, “it’ll really hurt your reputation as an honest businessman. Why don’t you just call the lady and meet her somewhere?”
“I want to see her there,” he said in a low
voice, his gaze riveted to the entrance to the building. “She told me she’d never met him; I want to face her with that where she can’t deny it.” He wasn’t entirely sure why he was so adamant about reaching the penthouse unseen; perhaps it was simply because Travers was a dangerous man and Josh wanted to take no chances. There was, at least, that much of his control left.
“Going to tell her about the dossier?”
“No.” Josh lit a cigarette. “I want her to tell me.”
“Think that’s likely?”
Josh swore, every word harshly expelled with smoke. “How the hell do I know? She seems to be living a damned double life, and there must be a reason for it.”
Zach sent him a guarded look, then said carefully, “If the dossier was legit, maybe she just needs a clean place to wash off the dirt.” He thought he’d gone too far for a moment; even in the darkness he caught the stabbing glance from the other side of the car.
“The report’s wrong,” Josh said gratingly. “Wrong. There’s an explanation for it. There has to be.”
His friend tried another tack. “And we’ll find it, if it’s there. Why don’t you go on and finish the trip while we look into it? By the time you head back this way, we’ll know. There’s no hurry, is there?”
Josh stared briefly up at the lighted windows of the penthouse. “Travers is up there,” he said savagely. “With her. If he’s had his filthy hands on her—I have to know, Zach. About that, at least, I have to know.”
“And the rest?” Zach deliberately made his tone of voice harsh. “D’you think you can live with that, if it’s true? D’you think you could even touch her knowing she was a liar, a thief … a whore?” A choked sound came from the passenger seat, but Zach pushed on relentlessly. “You know what I found out today. You know that so far everything checks out. What if it all checks out?”
“It won’t!” Josh drew a deep breath. “You haven’t met her; I have. That file is about another woman, it has to be. Or it’s a pack of lies.”
