Ms. Taken. Jo Leigh

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      “…the party of the first part, will make appropriate restitution to landowners…”

      Charles tried to focus on the contract, but his attention was waylaid by four drops of water on the conference table. Remnants of the mishap of an hour ago, they were perfect bubbles, contained within themselves, shimmering when Podesky jostled the table. For God’s sake, millions of dollars were at stake, and he was busy thinking about beads of water. He dismissed them, turned his attention to the pages before him, but every few words his gaze would dart over to the drops. It was all he could do not to leap out of his chair and blot the water before it could torment him further.

      Damn it. Podesky might as well have been speaking Greek. Charles couldn’t listen, hadn’t been able to listen from the start.

      He’d have to postpone his decision, that’s all. Which wasn’t a bad idea when he thought about it. Something was amiss here, and in his distraction, the only hint he’d had was the fact that Riverside’s face was a dull pink. Not just some of his face. All of it had a distinct rosy hue. Having met Riverside several times before, Charles knew this wasn’t the man’s normal complexion. The temperature in the office was a cool seventy-two, so what was making the man so nervous?

      Charles was pleased he’d thought to do a little digging into Riverside’s past. If there were skeletons to be found, his man Sterling would find them. The importance of today was to listen well, get his own take on the man and the deal.

      Unfortunately, he’d failed miserably on both accounts.

      “…two-hundred seventy thousand dollars, to be held at Chase Manhattan Bank until such t—” Podesky stopped midword as his gaze jerked to the door of the conference room. Riverside followed suit and reacted with an open mouth and widening eyes.

      Charles spun in his chair to see what the hell—

      Ms. Dobson? Joan Dobson? With a white bandage on her forehead? With a dirty, torn skirt and blouse? With only one shoe?

      She swept into the room like a strong gust of wind, heading straight for him. Her arms spread expansively and a smile lit her smudged face. “Charley!”

      Charley?

      She swooped down on him, giving him no chance to escape, and for a moment he wondered if she was going to kill him. It was obvious she’d gone off the deep end. He tensed, but instead of a knife in his ribs, he got a kiss on the mouth.

      He would have preferred the knife.

      She kissed him deeply, her full lips squarely on his, her body bent at such an angle that his head was forced back against his leather chair. Her hands landed on his shoulders, the touch there almost as shocking and intimate as her kiss. That is, until he felt the unmistakable wetness of her tongue.

      He opened his mouth to protest, but a second later he realized his error. Her tongue, Ms. Dobson’s tongue, slipped into his mouth. Searching, teasing, it moved sinuously against his teeth, his own tongue. The indecency, the impudence shocked him so fiercely that he forgot how to breathe.

      He moved his head, but she moved with him, a low rumble from her throat making it sound as if his attempt at escape was something entirely different. As if he’d moved to please her.

      His hands found her shoulders somehow, and he pushed her back, but not before she nipped his lower lip. She straightened slowly, her smile mischievous, her eyes alight with what Charles could only guess was insanity. She must have been in a terrible accident that had caused her to lose all sense of propriety.

      “I saw it, Charley,” she said, her intimate whisper sending aftershocks through his body. “I saw the personals. It was so clever of you to think of that. You knew I’d read it, didn’t you? And you knew I’d drop everything to be with you.”

      He opened his mouth as he struggled to understand. But before he was able to say a word, she’d turned to Riverside and his attorney.

      “Please forgive my intrusion,” she said. “But love makes for foolish choices sometimes. You see, Charley and I, we’re going to be married.”

      Riverside cleared his throat. “Pardon?”

      She laughed, the sound so out of place Charles wondered if he was dreaming. “I’m Holly Baskin,” she said as she walked around the table to where Riverside sat. “I know I must look terrible, but I couldn’t wait to get here. In fact, I left everything behind.” She turned to Charles, and the way she looked at him sent a shiver of fear down his spine. “I’ll need to get some things, sweetie, if you don’t mind.”

      Holly Baskin? What in hell…? He shook his head, wondering if he should call the police or Bellevue or both. David. David would know what to do. He dealt with crazy people all the time.

      Ms. Dobson sighed, her gaze all moony, like a love-sick calf. On the other hand, maybe that’s what people looked like when they were about to go over the edge. He opened his mouth to order her out of his office, but before he could say the first word she’d dashed to him once more, her blond curls bobbing merrily. Why had she said she was Holly? Blackmail? Dementia? Worse?

      “I’ve got to go get something decent to wear, but then I’ll meet you at your place later. We have so much to talk about.”

      He leaned forward.

      She bent over him, stealing his protest with another kiss.

      The next second she straightened, smiled, then she was out the door. He should follow her. See that she didn’t steal anything, shoot anyone, jump out any windows. At the very least he should be on the phone with the police. But that last kiss…

      It had affected him. Embarrassingly. Visibly. If he stood…

      He shifted his chair up against the conference table. Riverside and his attorney stared at him with un-abashed shock. Riverside’s once pink hue was now closer to scarlet, and Podesky’s papers had fallen off the table.

      Charles cleared his throat. Then again. “I’m sorry about that, gentlemen.”

      Riverside looked at him, then at the door, then back again. “Your fiancée?”

      “No. No, not at all. She’s my assistant.”

      Podesky’s right brow rose.

      “And her name isn’t Holly Baskin.”

      “I see,” Riverside said, even though it was obvious he didn’t see. But then, Charles didn’t see, either.

      “Uh, gentlemen, I think it would be best if we rescheduled.”

      Podesky nodded, then bent over to get his file. Riverside just kept looking at him. Charles wanted them out, gone. He needed to calm down. To think this through. He needed to talk to David.

      An electronic buzz made him jump, which wasn’t nearly as bad as what happened to Podesky. He not only dropped the file again, but the back of his head banged viciously against the bottom of the table when he reached for it.

      Charles pressed the intercom. “Yes?”

      “Uh, Mr. Warren?” the secretary said, her voice tentative and so soft he barely made out the words.

      “Yes?”

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