Midnight At Tiffany's. Sarah Morgan

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      Matilda had never told them, but she’d borrowed shamelessly from Paige’s, Eva’s and Frankie’s personalities when she was creating Lara. The result was a heroine who was the perfect mix of tough and sexy.

      She’d chosen to give her heroine Frankie’s fiery red hair, but now she was wondering if she should have given her Eva’s golden curls. People invariably underestimated blondes, didn’t they? It would be fun to see someone underestimating Lara. That was a scene she would have had fun writing.

      “I’m supposed to tell her if I see Chase Adams, but I have no idea what he looks like.” What did “the man who had everything” look like?

      She didn’t reveal her real reasons for wanting to meet him. She knew it was a long shot. She didn’t need anyone to tell her.

      Eva glanced around. “I know what he looks like—insanely handsome as it happens—but I don’t think he’s here. I do, however, see Jake Romano, and he gives Chase a run for his money.”

      Matilda followed her gaze and saw a wickedly handsome dark-haired man laughing with an incredibly beautiful woman.

      She sighed. “They seem totally in love.” She glanced at Paige, expecting her to agree, and noticed the brief flash of pain in her eyes.

      “The only person Jake Romano loves is himself.”

      There was a shimmer of emotion in her voice and Matilda knew she’d inadvertently stepped into dangerous territory.

      Did Paige know Jake? Did they have a history?

      The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Paige, and she was about to say something when Eva gave a quick shake of her head and changed the subject deftly.

      “You wouldn’t like Chase Adams. They say he’s a ruthless moneymaking machine with no heart or soul.”

      Matilda didn’t care about that. She did care about the fact he might be able to give her his brother’s email address.

      “Of course he’s here. How can he not be here? What sort of man wouldn’t show up at his own event?”

      Paige smiled, her natural good humor restored. “Probably a man who knows Cynthia is looking for him.”

      So he wasn’t old and fusty, Matilda mused. Insanely handsome. He sounded like someone her heroine would be seeking out. Luscious Lara had no time for the conventional rules of relationships. She would never wait for a man to call. She was a sexually confident woman who went after what she wanted. The words regret and apology didn’t appear in her vocabulary.

      Chase Adams might consider himself to be the man who had everything, but he’d never had Lara. If she walked into his life, he’d soon discover what was missing. Lara would give the ruthless, coldhearted Chase Adams a night he would never forget.

CHAPTER TWO

      TUCKED BEHIND ONE of the pillars on the terrace, Chase Adams stood staring over the Manhattan skyline. He scanned the building closest to him; fifty-four floors of winking glass and gleaming metal, now providing corporate headquarters for three Fortune 100 companies.

      He was familiar with every steel bolt.

      His company had built it, as they had at least four other buildings within his line of vision.

      Buildings were his life. His world.

      As a child he’d played with Lego. This was more satisfying. He was creating something permanent, something that became part of the city he loved.

      “Chase!” A soft, feminine voice told him that his moment of contemplation was over.

      He turned, resigned. “Victoria.”

      “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. There are people waiting to talk to you!”

      Not because they were interested in him, but because they wanted something.

      People always wanted something.

      There were days when he felt every interaction he had was fake, including his relationship with Victoria.

      His parents kept telling him she would be a perfect life partner for someone. It was obvious they were hoping he’d be that someone.

      It was true that she was socially adept and confident. She would stand next to him at events like this one and make polite conversation with anyone and everyone from presidents to police chiefs.

      There was only one problem.

      The thought of waking up next to Victoria for the next fifty years chilled him. He’d never seen her anything but perfectly groomed, and never heard her utter a word that hadn’t been carefully edited. There were times when he felt like tickling her to see if she was capable of spontaneous laughter.

      Chase wondered what she looked like in the morning when she hadn’t spent half the day being pampered. Did she sleep in makeup?

      What would marriage to someone like Victoria look like? Would she rush to the bathroom before he woke? Their relationship would be strictly regimented. Dinner would be scheduled into their calendars, a stiff formal affair. What about sex? Would he be expected to book that in, too? Their future would be a sea of diary notes and reminders, with no room for spontaneity. Soon he’d be going on more and more business trips to avoid her.

      “I was enjoying the view.”

      She laughed—a carefully modulated sound, not too loud and not too soft—and linked arms with him in a gesture intended to remind anyone watching that they were intimate. Close.

      Chase had never felt more distant from her than he did at that moment.

      “You are funny. The view from your apartment is vastly superior, and you’re wasting time staring into space. You need to mingle. There are so many people waiting to meet you.”

      Mingle.

      The thought lowered his spirits as much as the thought of spending the rest of his life with Victoria.

      Was he being unfair? The time they spent together was at events such as these, and there was never time to talk properly.

      “Let’s get out of here, Vic.”

      “Excuse me?” She frowned at the shortened version of her name, and he wondered what he was supposed to call her if they ever made it as far as the bedroom.

      “Let’s leave. Go somewhere.”

      “Where?”

      “I don’t know. Let’s be spontaneous. Walk and see where we end up.”

      “Walk? Leave your own party?” She gave a breathless laugh, as shocked as if he’d suggested stripping off and dancing naked on the table. “You’re joking.”

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