Tender Loving Passion. Donna Hill

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      Her pulse pounded in her temples when she scrolled down to review his personal information.

      Marital Status: Divorced

      Reflexively, she gripped the pages tighter between her fingers. Her heart thumped as her breathing shortened.

      Divorced. He was free. At least on paper.

      He was married when they’d met. Guilt had riddled her each time they’d made love until her conscience had no longer allowed her to do that to another woman. Michael had literally begged her not to leave him. He’d promised to get a divorce—just give me some time, he’d said.

      But time and promises were things she could not depend on, nor did she want to.

      “I can’t do this anymore, Michael,” she recalled saying to him, the agony of speaking the words making her voice paper thin, sounding weak and without conviction.

      He turned onto his side. His dark brown eyes moved slowly along her face. His thumb brushed across her bottom lip. “Do what?” he asked, his voice husky and taunting. “This?” His large hand slid between her damp thighs and gently caressed her there.

      Mia drew in a sharp breath as the powerful sensations rippled through her.

      “Michael...” Her hips arched. She gripped his shoulders and he rose above her, bracing his weight on his forearms.

      “I love you so much, Mia,” he said on a ragged breath as he pushed slowly inside her.

      Mia wrapped her body and her heart around him, giving him all of her because she knew that this could never happen again.

      And it didn’t.

      * * *

      Mia ran her hand along the length of her hair and for a moment shut her eyes, wishing the images of the past away.

      She looked down and read further. Michael had been under surveillance for a while. He’d come under suspicion during a routine audit of his company’s finances. There were several discrepancies, which had apparently been cleared up, but he remained a blip on the radar screen.

      Apparently, deposits of three to five thousand dollars were routinely placed in one of his secondary accounts, then were quickly transferred to an offshore account in the Cayman Islands.

      The more she read, the more ill she became.

      The Michael Burke she knew was ambitious, and he could be manipulative if it would land him an account. But this man on paper was not the man she remembered and had once loved.

      She closed the folder and knew that shortly the ink would disappear, as if the damning words had never existed.

      The knock on her door snapped her to attention. She shoved the envelope into her desk drawer, removed her glasses and went to unlock the door.

      “Hi. Come in.”

      Ashley’s updated Angela Davis fro bounced in a cinnamon-brown halo around her openly expressive face.

      Every time she looked at Ashley, Mia thought of a highly energetic, inquisitive child, even though Ashley was easily in her early thirties.

      Ashley was a godsend after Mia lost her last assistant to marriage and happily ever after. Ashley was bright, totally efficient and loved the event-planning business. She was so good, in fact, that Mia had given Ashley two of her own accounts to manage, and her clients loved her.

      “Hey, boss,” Ashley greeted her, her warm brown eyes sparkling, as always. Her deep dimples flashed.

      “What’s up?”

      “A couple of calls that I thought you’d want to handle personally.” She handed Mia a slip of the company’s teal-colored message paper.

      They walked toward the small circular table in the far corner of the office and sat down.

      Mia squinted at the words on the page until they came into focus. “Sahara Club?” she asked.

      Ashley read from a sheet in her hand detailing all the particulars about the Sahara Club, which catered to married couples who wanted to plan quick romantic getaways. The club management wanted to put together an event to promote their business, inviting previous guests to give testimonials about their experience.

      Mia’s brows rose as she listened.

      “I did an Internet search on them,” Ashley offered in response to the question that hovered on Mia’s lips. She handed over her research material. “I also have a short list of some of their clients. I can have them checked, if you want.”

      Mia took the notes and briefly scanned them, the words blurry around the edges.

      “This one is for the grand opening of a boutique in Tribeca,” she went on reading her second set of notes. “They want something really upscale. They’d like to come in and talk with you. Should I schedule it?”

      “Why don’t you take that one?” Mia said absently. “I’ll sit in on the initial meeting if you need me, but I think you can handle it.”

      “No problem.” She paused a moment. “Are you okay? You seem really out of it.”

      In the six months that Ashley had worked for Mia, they’d grown rather close, sharing stories and giving each other advice on things like clothes, cars, best deals, politics, religion. Mia had even invited Ashley to join her, Savannah and Danielle for their weekly girls’ brunch at their favorite hangout, The Shop. Over time Mia had grown to respect Ashley’s judgment and clearheaded opinions, which she often sought out. But her current dilemma she could not share.

      “I’m fine. Just a little headache.”

      Ashley leaned forward. “Maybe if you wore your glasses to read and move around in the world, your head would stop hurting. It’s probably eyestrain.”

      Mia made a face. It was her personal pet peeve. “I’ll be fine. I’ll take something for it.”

      Ashley huffed. “Suit yourself.” She pushed up from the desk. “I’ll give these ladies from the boutique a call and get that set up.”

      “Thanks.”

      * * *

      Alone now, Mia’s thoughts reluctantly turned to her most pressing situation: in order to complete her assignment, she was going to have to see Michael again. And she wasn’t sure how she was going to handle that.

      What she needed was some advice. Savannah was totally out of the question. She was a devout believer in the sanctity of marriage. She’d had her own scare with her husband, Blake, and she didn’t look favorably on the “other woman,” which is what Mia had been.

      Danielle, though much more open-minded, had mellowed since she’d settled down with Nick. And although she might be more understanding, Dani’s quick, sharp tongue was not something she wanted to deal with, either.

      Those were the reasons why she’d never told her two СКАЧАТЬ