Wes broke the kiss first. “Is that all you’re looking for?”
She opened her eyes, could barely make out his features in the dark of the closet. Outside real life continued to unfold. She heard a page call overhead, the sound of people walking by. They could get caught. It was dangerous, lingering in this closet. She’d end up with a less than stellar reputation, and he would have another notch on his supposed already full bedpost.
This is what happened to a woman who was desperate, she realized. Her thoughts had been consumed with him since the first moment they locked gazes. She was behaving like a complete slut and the funny thing was she didn’t care.
“Is it?”
Lanie blinked. What had he asked again? Her brain was fuzzy, her entire body spun tight from that one delicious kiss and she couldn’t find her tongue despite that she knew he waited for her answer.
“Because if it is,” he continued when she didn’t reply. “Then I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to disappoint you.”
He disengaged himself from her grip and without another word, walked out of the closet, leaving her inside.
Alone.
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Please enjoy the following excerpt from DANGEROUS SECRETS (TALL, DARK AND DEADLY, BOOK 2) by Lisa Renee Jones
“Greed is a stronger force than gravity.”
Chapter One
“He has nasty little habits,” Elizabeth Moore said with a dramatic pause before adding, “both in and out of the bedroom. Things people wouldn’t expect from a judge.”
Julie Morrison fixed her client’s soon to be ex-wife in an unblinking stare from across her desk, intentionally showing no reaction. “Mrs. Moore, you really shouldn’t be here. I’m not trying to be insensitive, but I represent your husband in this divorce and I’m bound by certain laws and preset boundaries that I simply don’t have the liberty to ignore.”
“I’m not surprised he chose you as his attorney,” she replied pointedly. “He has a thing for blondes, you know.” Her gaze crudely raked Julie’s rather voluptuous figure.
There was a silent ‘bimbo’ inference, and it ground on Julie’s nerves, reminding her a little too much of her Vegas showgirl mother and four stepfathers. She’d had a lot of those inferences in law school, and they’d hurt, but they’d also motivated her to work hard and prove herself. She accepted that she’d never have the Aubrey Hepburn elegance that Elizabeth Moore personified years before. Mostly. Once in a blue moon though, she still burned for the instant respect a woman like Mrs. Moore claimed when she entered a room, rather than, well, whatever it was Julie herself evoked in people.
“As I’ve said, Mrs. Moore,” Julie pressed, trying to direct their conversation to an end, “I think it would be best if you have your attorney contact me. I shouldn’t have agreed to see you. When you said this was a matter of life and death, I was concerned for everyone’s safety.”
“I believe you’ll understand what I meant when I finish explaining why I’m here.” Mrs. Moore leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “I’m also certain you’ll agree it’s best kept between the two of us. See, I’m prepared to make my husband’s nasty little habits public if that’s what it takes to get a fair shake in this divorce.”
Alarm bells went off at the shockingly blatant threat, especially considering Elizabeth’s reputation as a charming woman involved in a variety of charitable organizations. Nothing about this visit fit that reputation, but, much to Julie’s disapproval, Judge Moore had cut off all his wife’s credit cards and cash flow. Not only was Elizabeth Moore in a bad position, but her actions drove home that desperation was never smart nor pretty.
“Threatening a sex scandal seems a bit beneath you,” Julie warned softly, hating to see what the judge was bringing out in her, trying to bring her back to reason.
Elizabeth let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, honey, his sexual preferences might be kinky, but they are nothing compared to some of his other, shall we say, addictions.”
Her words lingered in the air for several silent moments, inviting scary prospects to run through Julie’s mind. Against her better judgment, she said, “I’m listening.”
A look of triumph settled on Elizabeth’s face. “As you well know, he’s an art collector. He doesn’t make all of his pieces public. Some of it is kept underground.“ She paused for obvious effect. “In a hidden vault.” A slow smile turned up the corners of Elizabeth’s delicate mouth. “There are people who would be very interested in some of the items my husband has in his keeping. It could cause him quite a bit of trouble.”
“What exactly are you saying?” Julie asked, afraid of what the answer was going to be. Pornography, or worse even, child pornography? Please say it isn’t so, she thought.
Elizabeth pushed to her feet. “Tell him two can play dirty. It’s best you know nothing more because, while I don’t like you, Ms. Morrison, I don’t want you to end up dead.” With that she turned and headed toward the door.
“Elizabeth,” Julie called out, not wanting to seem too anxious as she barely kept herself in her seat.
Elizabeth turned. “Yes?”
“If it’s that dangerous for me to know whatever this secret is, aren’t you putting yourself in danger by issuing this threat?”
“My husband won’t kill me,” she said. “He won’t kill you, either. But there are others who’ll kill us all if they find out what he’s hiding. He won’t expect this from me. I’ve been weak where he’s concerned. Now that I’ve proven I’m not, he won’t risk me taking this further. He’ll give me what I want.” She gave a nod. “Goodbye, Ms. Morrison.”
Julie watched her leave, stunned by just how nasty this had gotten, then rotated her chair to take in the view from her fifteenth floor downtown Manhattan window. “What in the heck just happened?” she mumbled to the empty room. And why oh why did it have to happen now. Tomorrow, she would leave for Chicago to negotiate the divorce settlement for one of her many professional athlete clients. A few days later, her best friend, Lauren Reynolds, was getting married, and she was maid of honor. Complications were not well-timed.
Sighing, she punched the button on her intercom. “Gina,” she said calling her assistant for the past six months. “Can you please track down Judge Moore?”
“Of course,” Gina said promptly. She was always prompt. Prickly but efficient, and that was what mattered.
Julie reached for her coffee cup, and while she wasn’t usually a drinker, she wished she had some hard stuff right now. At nine o’clock in the morning she was wishing for alcohol. What did that say about her life? She didn’t know what was wrong with her lately, but she had this sense of dissatisfaction that defied her growing high profile client list that should have her reveling in success. Maybe she should consider joining the small firm Lauren had left the District Attorney’s office for. The firm she was with wasn’t a powerhouse, but it wasn’t an ant farm either. Still, she was nearly thirty now, and had to think about her future. After seven years here, she couldn’t say they’d helped her career. She’d been hired to handle corporate law, but they’d thrown her divorce cases no one had wanted and she’d made it work.
Her intercom buzzed. “The judge is on two.”
“Got it,” Julie said, punching the button before lifting the receiver to her ear. “Judge?”
He made an irritated noise. “I’m heading into court, Julie. What’s so important it couldn’t wait?”
Julie bit back the retort that threatened to slip out, managing an unaffected voice. “Your wife stopped by.”
“Oh, well hell,” he grumbled. “Surely this can wait.”
“I don’t know, Judge, you tell me. She seems to think she has some information you don’t want leaked. Her exact words were ‘I can play dirty too’.”
There was a pregnant silence.
“Go on,” he said a little too quietly.
Intentionally vague, Julie sa
id, “She mentioned artwork.”
Silence, thick, and full of implications filtered through the phone line.
He cleared his throat. “Exactly what did she say about the subject?”
Not good, Julie thought. “She seems to think you have some pieces you don’t want anyone to know about,” Julie offered in a neutral tone as she tapped her pencil on her oak desktop.
“Such as?” he asked a pinch of urgency slipping into his tone.
“She wouldn’t say,” Julie told him in a voice that was deceptively light. ”Seemed to think I was better off not knowing.”
Silence again. He was having a quiet panic attack, Julie realized with concern.
He cleared his throat again. Julie waited; still nothing. “Judge?”
“It’s not a problem,” he assured her in a very tight voice. “There are thieves who will go to great lengths to get their hands on highly sought after art. I am always quite nervous about some of my holdings becoming targets. I will have the pieces in question put somewhere safe. Give me forty-eight hours, and then call her bluff.”
“It’s not a bluff if you think she’ll act on it,” Julie argued. “And if you need forty-eight hours, that tells me you think she might. Judge, I don’t want to offend you, but,” she paused to consider phrasing and decided to be direct. “I need to be sure there is nothing going on I wouldn’t want to be involved with.”
He laughed, but it sounded forced. “I’m a judge for God’s sake. Give me some credit. I have masterpieces that certain collectors would literally kill for. I don’t want those pieces of my collection made public. Now do as I say, and call her bluff.”
Bluff. There was that word again that sat all kinds of wrong in her mind. “All right, Judge. Consider it done.”
Julie’s stomach churned with a sense of dread. Nothing about this situation was done. Her gut said that this was going someplace very bad, very quickly.
Chicago O’ Hare Airport
Wednesday night, two days later
Ten minutes. That was all Julie had to get to her gate and board. Considering the snowstorm blasting across the state, she couldn’t afford to miss it, as it might well be the last plane out for days. And considering she was in charge of Lauren’s rehearsal dinner Friday night, that would be bad. Really, really bad. That thought held enough of a fear factor to send Julie into a half-run. She shouldn’t have agreed to travel this close to the wedding.
She eyed the gate numbers, spotting seven, when she needed eleven. She fought through the pinch of her toes in the black three-inch heels that matched her safe black travel dress, cringing at the sight of huge snowflakes outside the wall of windows to her left. They seemed to fall at an accelerated speed while she watched. Her gaze lifted to the monitors and she cringed yet again at the flashing red with the word ‘cancelled’ next to a great number of flights.
“Please don’t let mine be one of them,” she murmured, afraid to stop to check for fear seconds could cost her the seat with her name attached.
Arriving at her gate, the empty waiting room seats emphasised just how late she was for boarding. The doors to the entry ramp were still open, and that meant she’d made it on time.
Eager to confirm she was right, Julie hurried to the counter and presented the attendant behind the counter her ticket. “Please tell me I’m not too late for this flight.”
The forty-something woman smiled and pushed the rims of her black glasses back onto her face. “You’re in luck. We’ve boarded the last group, but the flight’s been delayed fifteen minutes.”
A sigh of relief slid past Julie’s lips. “Thank you. And you’re right. That’s luck because I really need to be on this flight. Do you think I dare sneak away for some food to take on the plane with me before I board?” It was nearly eight at night and divorce negotiations had been so heated, she’d never gotten her sandwich down.
“If you hurry and I do mean hurry,” she said. “Rush back.”
“I will,” Julie promised. “Thank you, again. Please don’t let them shut the doors without me.”
“I won’t,” the woman promised. “I’m going to check in with the crew and I’ll flag your name as present.” The women rushed away and Julie stuffed her ticket inside her purse, ready to seek out the nearest restaurant.
She made it all of four or five steps before she stumbled over Lord-only-knew-what -- a cord of some sort she thought -- and nearly fell flat on her face. She righted her ankle, thankfully avoiding a sprain, but her briefcase took the tumble for her, sliding down her shoulder and hitting the ground. The contents spilled out.
“That’s why you should zip it,” she mumbled, holding her skirt down to squat in as much of a lady-like fashion as was possible considering the circumstances.
“Need help?”
Julie froze at the sound of a familiar male voice that couldn’t possible belong to who she thought it did, when the tingling awareness down her spine told her it was indeed exactly who she thought it was. Luke Walker, the brother of her her best friend’s soon-to-be husband. Not only did Luke and his two brothers run Walker Security, they held a number of airport consulting contracts, including this one. She squeezed her eyes shut at her predicament, at having the very man she’d avoided at all cost for the last six months standing above her.
Slowly, her gaze lifted, travelling upward in what felt like slow motion. She took in muscular, denim-clad legs, a tapered waist, and an impressive chest. He bent down, a wisp of his dark hair brushing his brow, his rich, chocolate-brown stare capturing hers and leaving her speechless.
Memories of the two of them together, of a too short, heated affair that had happened when he’d been on leave from the SEALS, rushed through her. It had been a safe fling, short-lived, and without the strings and complications that she knew from experience led couples straight to divorce court. But he wasn’t a SEAL any more, and he wasn’t leaving this time, and after struggling to shake off the impact he’d had on her ever since they’d parted ways, she’d accepted that nothing about him had ever been safe.
“How are you here when I’m here?” she whispered. The timing was impossible, regardless of his contracts.
“Luck it seems,” he said, and those full, sensual lips she knew could be both punishing and soothing in all the right ways, hinted at a smile. “I had a meeting with airport officials that ended just in time to give you a helping hand.” He reached for a large file, shoved papers inside, and then rested an elbow on his knee to offer it to her. “Shouldn’t you be in New York with the bride-to-be?”
“Yes,” she said, stuffing the file in her bag, pretty sure her own Lady Luck was playing games with her tonight. “I should. I got pressured into a negotiation that I regret.” She stood up and he followed, handing her one last file that she quickly put into her briefcase. “Thank you for your help.”
She couldn’t seem to think of what else to say. He was so close she could smell the masculine spice of his cologne. She knew the brand, knew where he sprayed it. And she knew how good it smelled when he was naked and it was the only thing he had on. She shoved the inappropriate and tantalising thought away and reached for something, anything, to say. “Are you on this flight?”
“I guess that’s where my luck runs out,” he said, glancing at the window before adding, “I’m on the next one out and I’m not optimistic with this weather.”
“You have to be back to help with the wedding, too,” she insisted. “You’re the best man. Can they convince someone to give up a seat for you?”
“The airline tried. There were no takers. I’ll get there one way or the other though, even if that means catching a charter flight.”
“You can’t fly out in some small plane in a dangerous storm,” Julie said, alarmed. “Luke, please tell me you won’t do that.”
“You just said I have to get home.”
“You do, but safely.”
He arched a brow. “Worried about me?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. This
was one area she wasn’t hiding her feelings. “I am worried about you. Very. I know you were a SEAL, but don’t be macho. You can crash and die just like the rest of us.”
“I’m not macho.”
“You Walker men personify macho.”
“You must be talking about my brothers,” he joked.
“You were a SEAL. That’s another way to spell macho.”
“I was,” he agreed. “But not any more.”
Julie discreetly inhaled at the implication of those words, the silent message they held. He was here. He wasn’t leaving this time. What was she going to do about it? Those chocolate brown eyes of his held hers, and the air thickened, crackling with sudden awareness. His voice softened, turned velvety. “You know, Julie, we could-”
“Excuse me, Ms. Morrison,” the airline attendant interrupted. “You need to board.”
“I’m on my way,” Julie said, glancing at the woman and then quickly back to Luke, hoping he’d finish his sentence.
He hesitated only an instant, clearly abandoning whatever he’d intended to say. “You better go. See you at the rehearsal dinner. I’ll be there. You get on that plane and make sure you’re there, too.”
“Don’t take unnecessary risks,” Julie ordered.
“I won’t.”
“Promise.”
“I promise.”
She studied him, not sure she believed him. “Luke-”
“Miss,” the attendant said, sounding urgent, “your flight is going to leave without you. You really do have to board now.”
Julie walked backwards. “Getting killed would ruin the wedding, Luke.”
“I know.” He chuckled, a deep, sexy sound that tickled every nerve ending she owned. “Get on the plane. I’ll see you there. Alive.”
She inhaled and forced herself to break eye contact and hurry towards the ramp. She was worried about him, and she told herself that was because of the wedding. It was something to focus on other than what he’d almost said. We could...We could what? It didn’t matter. Nothing was going to happen between them. She wouldn’t let it.
Under His Protection Page 20
