by Desiree Holt
“And of course,” Taylor went on, “you remember John Martino, right?”
“I do.” Lindsey was proud that she managed to keep her voice steady. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“I think the pleasure’s all mine.” His hand was warm as he took hers, and strong as he closed his fingers around it.
And oh, god, that deep voice just vibrated through her body. Her nerve endings ignored all the warnings she was sending them and vibrated beneath the surface of her skin. She sincerely hoped her nipples weren’t pointing straight at him, but there wasn’t much she could do about the pulse pounding like a jungle drum between her thighs.
She had to concentrate hard to fight back the memories of other ways those hands had touched her and the sensations they’d drawn from her body. She eased her hand from his with as much courtesy as she could muster and took a step back.
Taylor turned to her husband. “How long have you been here?”
“Just a few minutes. Aiden’s anxious to get started on that phone, so let’s feed everyone and get on with it.”
“Perfect,” Taylor agreed. “How about fixing drinks for Lindsey and me while I get everyone’s orders and call room service?”
“Steak as usual?” John grinned. “I already warned Aiden on the plane.”
“It’s okay.” The other man chuckled. “I’m a beef man myself, anyway.”
In a few moments room service had been called and Lindsey found herself with a drink in her hand, doing her best not to keep staring at John. Thank heavens, Taylor launched right into business so her brain was occupied. Before long they were seated at the round table in front of the window, dinner had been served by the room service waiter and they were deep in discussion about the phone.
Dinner was excellent, as Lindsey had expected, but she was distracted because John had chosen to sit next to her. Whether by design or accident, his knee kept brushing against hers, sending a tiny shower of sparks straight along her leg to the hot well of her sex. Little quivers vibrated in her inner walls and her clit throbbed as if he was touching it.
Aiden looked at Taylor. “Tell me more about this phone and the man who had it.”
Taylor gave him a quick overview of how Craig Wainwright had come to her attention and how Arroyo came to bring Elite into the corporate fold.
“We checked him out thoroughly before we made him the offer,” she assured Aiden. “I’m very particular about who we add to the corporate family. The business had nothing that gave off warning signs and Craig never hinted he had something to hide. In fact, he was excited about tapping into Arroyo’s international situation to branch out Elite’s client base. If there’s something off here, he did a good job of hiding it. Lindsey, you worked with him for four years. Any thoughts about this?”
She forced herself to ignore the now constant press of John’s leg against hers and concentrate on the conversation. “I’m as shocked as you are. I never saw anything suspicious, either. Craig and I had different styles of operation, but they never clashed. Sometimes he’d be a little more uptight than usual, but that was typically when he was getting ready for another photo shoot. Traveling with high-maintenance models would give anyone a headache. I never had a sniff of something wrong.”
“Someone has to be very good to fool you,” Noah told her. “That means we’re either letting our imaginations run away with us—which I don’t for a minute believe—or Craig Wainwright was a master of deception and disguise.”
“Whatever’s going on,” Aiden put in, “I guarantee you this phone is part of it. Any time a phone has that much protection, it makes me suspicious.” He rose, picked up the phone and studied it again.
“Me too,” Taylor agreed. “The fact that he even had it disturbs me. This situation has so much about it that smacks of trouble. We’ve got to get this thing unlocked, Aiden. Any idea how long it will take you?”
He snorted a laugh. “Anywhere from five minutes to five days, depending on how sophisticated the software is. From what Noah explained, I’m sure whoever made the call and got you instead of Craig pulled the SIM card as soon as he hung up.”
“I immediately tried to call back,” Taylor assured him, “and got nothing.”
“That’s the only way you could have gotten dead air. Just turning it off won’t do that. The phone locked when you tried to call the number back earlier, so I can’t even get into it to search for the call history. I’d better get going on this.”
Taylor frowned. “If it’s nothing but some weird personal stuff, I’m going to be very embarrassed.”
“You aren’t given to false alarms,” Noah said. “Go ahead, Aiden. Ring us the second you get something. Anything.”
“I’m on it.”
As soon as he left, Lindsey refilled everyone’s coffee cups and grabbed her tablet.
“I made some notes today.” She tapped the screen. “I always worry when everything looks too perfect yet doesn’t feel quite right. Anyway, I figured you’d want to me go over everything again with you before John gets into it. We could see if anything jumps out at us.”
Taylor nodded. “Thanks.”
Lindsey tried to figure out a way to shift to the chair Aiden had vacated, but there was no way to do it without looking awkward. John glanced at her, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth as if he knew what she was thinking. Then both Taylor and Noah were seated again and she forced her brain into the conversation.
She was proud of her self-control, her professionalism, even as she was well aware of John’s leg pressing against hers again, of the heat radiating from his body. It took everything she had not to remember him naked in her bed, the smooth muscles of his ass flexing, the hard length of his magnificent cock pressing into her. Focus, she told herself. This brainstorming session is important. Years of self-discipline would help her to focus on it entirely.
But two hours and multiple cups of coffee later, the only thing they had was an overload of caffeine and a mental nudge that they couldn’t seem to find the cause for. On the surface, everything looked clean and shiny. Lots of high-value clients. A nice supply of medium buyers. A staff that racked up a lot of good visibility for those clients. Successful marketing campaigns. Magazine ads that blew everyone’s socks off.
Noah leaned back in his chair. “You can’t knock results.”
“No,” John agreed. “You can’t. I need to start following the money trail. Often something very innocuous is exactly what someone’s trying to hide.”
Lindsey pushed her chair back and stood. She needed to make her exit as fast as she could within reason, before she did something that embarrassed her.
She rose from the table, grateful to get away from the hot contact with John and her body’s inevitable response.
“Taylor, thank you very much for dinner. Best steak I ever had.” She grinned. “Since the last one, anyway.”
“You’re certainly welcome. John, you know what we’re looking for. I want every account and every financial record of any kind taken apart piece by piece. Lindsey, in the morning, could you please have someone print out a list for him of all the Elite clients? And be sure to give him whatever passwords he’ll need so he can get started as soon as he gets to the Elite offices.”
He’ll be at the office. In the morning. Probably working all day. Damn, Lindsey. Get your act together. This is business. What makes you think he can be trusted any more now than four years ago? Don’t blow this great opportunity Taylor has handed to you. Be professional. Yes, professional.
“Of course. Not a problem. I’ll take care of it as soon as I get in.”
“Be sure to give him whatever he needs.”
Lindsey bit her lips at the look on his face when Taylor said that. His mouth quirked in a tiny smile, and she wanted to tell him not to get his hopes up. Or anything else.
“Well.” She picked up her purse from the little table where she’d dropped it, proud that she’d remained so self-contained and controlled. She hoped n
o one noticed that her hands were shaking just the tiniest bit. “I’ll say goodnight to everyone. See you tomorrow, John.”
“Sounds good to me.” The look he gave her scorched the air.
She wondered how Noah and Taylor could miss it. She could do this. She had to. She didn’t exactly have a choice, and they needed John’s expertise. This was business, after all—and some very serious business, it now seemed. But she wasn’t going to put herself in that situation again. Let him work his magic on some other unsuspecting woman and run off and leave her.
She managed a smile. “Then I’ll be going. Thanks for dinner.”
Noah lifted the house phone. “I’ll call down for your car.”
“Thank you.”
Casual goodnight, she told herself. When she got home, she’d give herself a pep talk on how to behave while John was working at Elite. She could do this.
But John, it seemed, had other ideas.
“Let me walk you down to the lobby.” John set his coffee cup down and pushed away from the table.
“That’s not necessary. I—”
But he already had his hand at her elbow, guiding her to the door, looking over his shoulder at the Cantrells. “See you both in a few minutes.”
They were out of the room before she could protest again.
“John, this isn’t at all necessary,” she repeated as he guided her down the hallway to the elevator. She was doing her best to ignore the electric heat where his hand touched her arm, or the unwanted flash of hunger that just his touch elicited.
“I’m sure you can tip the valet and get your car yourself. I wanted a few minutes alone with you. I owe you an apology.”
The last thing she wanted was for him to explain why he hadn’t reached out to her again. How he didn’t feel he should mix business and pleasure. How he hoped that wouldn’t interfere with their working together. After all, they were both adults, right?
“It’s fine, John. You don’t owe me any explanation at all. We’re good. Really.” She hoped her smile didn’t look as false as it felt.
He shook his head. “We have to talk.”
The elevator car arrived and they stepped into it, the only occupants from the high-dollar floor. As soon as the door closed, he pressed the button to hold the elevator car in place.
“John, we can’t do this now. People will be looking for the elevator. And I think a warning sounds if it doesn’t move for a certain amount of time.”
“Then I’d better talk fast.” He leaned forward, caging her with his arms. “Any excuse I can give for not calling you all this time is going to sound lame. Business crowded my schedule, time got away from me, all of that is true. But that’s not the whole story.”
“Oh? Then what is?”
“We need more time than five minutes for me to tell you. I was a first-class jackass and I suffered for it. I’m not going to let that happen again. I’ve spent four years kicking myself for being such an asshole. When Taylor called, I pushed another job off on my partner so I could take this one. So I could see you.”
Lindsey stood there, holding her breath. Her heart was beating hard and her throat was so dry she didn’t think she could swallow.
“John.” She wet her lips. “I don’t think—”
“Don’t think. Listen. Like I said, I’m an asshole. I’ll be the first one to admit it. And any other names you want to add. When I left you four years ago, I had every intention of calling you within the month. Hopping on a plane to Miami or wherever you were by that time. Following up on what had started between us. Having a fun weekend.”
“A fun weekend,” she repeated.
“Because whatever it was, everything else aside, it was fucking good. Agreed?”
She just stared at him, unable to say a word.
“Okay. Don’t say anything. I don’t blame you. I got caught up in some international finance shit, used it as an excuse and time just kept passing. I’ve been single a long time, Lindsey. I told myself I wasn’t interested in anything more than a good time. I kept myself busy and, after a while, too much time had gone by. It suddenly hit me I’d tossed away what could be the best thing that ever happened to me. When Noah called and asked me to come here, told me who I’d be working with, I jumped at it. Saw a chance to make up for being such a jerk, even if I had to get down on my knees and beg you. Because that’s what I’m ready to do.” He blew out a breath. “Listen. You have no reason to believe anything I say after what I did. Or didn’t do. But I’m asking you for another chance, Lindsey. Begging you. Please. At least listen to what I have to say.”
While she was still trying to figure out how to answer him, lips pressed against hers, warm and smooth. He traced the seam of her mouth with the tip of his tongue, back and forth, urging her to open for him. Without thinking, she did and he thrust his tongue inside.
And she went up in flames. Everything she’d spent four years burying surged to the surface and she welcomed him with an eagerness that embarrassed her. Tongues danced, sliding over each other, and his hot breath mingled with hers.
She didn’t know how long it would have gone on if the warning buzzer in the elevator hadn’t gone off. With great effort, she managed to tear her mouth away and push against him.
“We have to put the elevator in service again,” she whispered.
“I know. Damn it.”
In what seemed like seconds, they were gliding downward again. The car made several stops along the way, and Lindsey hoped neither of them gave a hint of what they’d been doing. She hurried ahead of John through the lobby to the outside valet area, but he was right with her.
“My car is here,” she told him. “John, I have to go.”
“I’m desperate to talk to you. Without anyone else around. We’re working together all day tomorrow. How about a quiet dinner, just the two of us, so we can talk? Please, Lindsey, we really need to talk.”
She sighed. Better to get it over with. Whatever it is.
“Fine. We can leave right from the office. Someplace quiet, okay?”
“Works for me.”
He had his hand on her arm again as he guided her to the driver’s side of the car. When she was seated, he leaned in and gave her a quick but hot kiss.
“See you tomorrow.”
“Yes. Tomorrow.”
As she pulled away from the hotel and eased into traffic, she couldn’t help wondering if she’d just made a huge, huge mistake.
Chapter Six
How did I get myself into this mess?
Daisy kept asking herself that question as she eased to the edge of the big deck at the rear of the McMansion where she and the others had been taken two nights ago. Music filled the air from the outdoor speakers and the other girls, bikini-clad and damp from their frequent dips in the pool, were rocking it out, dancing with abandon. Excitement simmered beneath the surface. Tomorrow was going to be an exciting day and they were all stoked.
“Last chance to let loose,” the man told them. “Tomorrow, we begin the real work.”
Boss. That was what he’d told them to call him. A little joke, he’d said. It was his nickname, he’d added. Now she wondered if he did that so no one knew his real name.
A large limo had ferried them to Black Swan Island, just across from Miami Beach. Before that they’d spent a day being pampered and ‘beautified’, as her friend Elise liked to say. Then the fittings for the bathing suits and other beachwear they’d be modeling. And then, after that, recreation. Tonight. The other girls were so excited they were almost drooling all over themselves. She had been, too, until she’d heard those pieces of conversation.
God, I am so stupid. What’s that old saying? If something seems too good to be true, it usually is. A modeling job. Who was I kidding? An appearance at a fundraiser doesn’t make me a professional. I can’t believe I was such a fool. I should have listened when Daphne told me about the short shelf life of their models. Now I know why.
But the man who had approached her and ta
ken her to lunch had had a real contract for her to sign. Then he’d set up a photo shoot for her, just as he’d promised. For prospective clients, they’d told her, before taking her to the lush tropical setting where the final pictures would be shot.
But they forgot to tell me what kind of clients they meant. Or what I’d be doing. Or where I’d be going. What if I hadn’t overheard that conversation? I’d be getting ready for a trip to paradise that would actually be the trip to hell.
Please, god, get me out of this. I promise I’ll never be so stupid again. Ever.
With slow, tiny steps, she continued edging around the deck, using the huge plants and trees as cover. The houses on this exclusive island just off the shore of Miami Beach were enormous and had security fences and other privacy barriers. But for whatever reason, the barrier wall with the house to the left stopped about six feet short of the water. That spot was her goal.
The men who had promised her fame and paradise knew little about her except she had no family and she was excited by the prospect of celebrity and money. Now she knew it had all been planned. She shuddered as she recalled the conversation she’d overheard by accident. She’d been looking for the bathroom and had heard two men talking in the den across from it. She didn’t understand all of it, but enough that she knew this was no modeling job, except after a fashion.
She’d thought about trying to tell the others, but she had a strong sense they either would not believe her or, worse, one or more of them might rat her out. She couldn’t take that chance. Instead she had worked her way at once around to where she could step off onto the grass and out of the light.
She heard Boss’ raised voice and strained to hear what he was saying. Was he looking for her? Asking about her? Had he missed her already? No, he was laughing. He wouldn’t be doing that if he was looking for her.
She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart and continued her slow progress to the adjacent lawn and down to the water. She wondered if the people who lived here had sensors in the lawn. People this rich had all kinds of security. They were paranoid about it. She had to be careful not to trip anything. She was just damn lucky that none of them were outside on their huge patio. God. Could she be lucky enough that they were out for the evening? She didn’t even know how many people lived in the house.
