Into Temptation. Jeanie London

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      1

      New York City, where the chic and commonplace clash along busy streets that make the perfect place to pursue a man.

      “OH MY, MY, but the man is even more dishy in the skin,” Lindy Gardner said to no one in particular as she focused the digital-cam binoculars.

      The device had been designed to look like a pair of stylish sunglasses, so she didn’t concern herself with the passersby on the street, but zoomed in on the tall blonde leaving the ritzy Piazza Hotel.

      Joshua Benedict aka Stuart Temple. Approximately thirty-eight years old.

      Origins: unknown.

      Current residence: Nice, France.

      Occupation: Fixer.

      She produced the man’s stats by rote, but peering through those lenses, Lindy didn’t see a familiar image from the surveillance photos the Secret Intelligence Service, MI6, had collected during recent months.

      Life sparked the lifeless images she’d studied during mission briefing into a wholly 3-D man. He stepped onto the pavement, his smile dazzling as he inclined his head to the doorman and moved past with smooth strides.

      Definitely a man her old school chums would have called a cut above bog standard.

      With the depression of a button, zoom lenses magnified her vantage again. Startling black eyes and brows contrasted with his pale hair and tanned skin. His hair glinted in the late-afternoon sun.

      Joshua Benedict looked as if he spent much of his time sailing, fishing and windsurfing on the deep-blue waters of the French Riviera.

      According to her intel, he did.

      But Lindy also knew he spent the rest of his time jet- setting around the globe conducting business.

      Legitimate society believed this man to be nothing more than a businessman with many areas of interest. But the world of the Secret Intelligence suspected Joshua Benedict of conducting illegal business, which was precisely why he was in New York City on this bright spring afternoon.

      And why she’d followed him here.

      Tracing her finger along the binoculars in what would appear to the casual observer as an adjustment to her sunglasses, Lindy depressed another button and captured the man’s image as he moved beneath the Piazza Hotel’s marquee.

      Target acquired.

      Joshua Benedict appeared to be a tourist, looking for all the world as if he belonged in the crush of people that ebbed and flowed along the street.

      Lindy knew there was nothing casual about this man’s visit, however. An informant had relayed reliable intel that connected Joshua Benedict to a recent auction-house theft.

      Not as the thief, though.

      This man maneuvered easily through the layers of society, from the wealthy glitterati to the shadowy underworld of international organized crime. He rubbed elbows with power brokers, from global financiers to old-money families who made up high society on three continents.

      He had established his reputation as a man who could mastermind brilliant business deals, “fix” any sort of unexpected situation and leave behind no prosecutable evidence. Most importantly, he could keep secrets.

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