Читать книгу Temptation and Lies - Donna Hill - Страница 12

Michael Burke tugged off his suit jacket and tossed it on the back of the couch before heading across the gleaming wood floor of his condo to the minibar on the far side of the living room.

He took out a bottle of brandy and poured a short tumbler full—no ice. It was a habit he’d picked up over the past few years. The years after his divorce, the years after Mia.

He took a long swallow, closed his eyes and let the smooth, warm liquid work its way down and hopefully soothe the constant ache that had found a home in the center of his gut.

Absently, he put the glass on the top of the bar counter and went to the window. Lights flickered in apartment windows and in offices inhabited by the lone employee working overtime to impress the boss.

Michael braced his palm against the frame of the window. The sky suddenly lit up, followed by a loud crack of thunder.

The rain would come soon, Michael thought. On nights like this, when he could get away, he remembered walking through the city with Mia, laughing and hugging as they darted under the eaves of buildings and into doorways, stealing kisses like teenagers.

His jaw clenched reflexively. He had many memories of Mia. But the one that stood out in his mind was the day she walked out of his life.

They’d spent a glorious night together at the Hilton on Avenue of the Americas. His wife, Christine, was visiting her mother in Philadelphia, her childhood home. She’d been gone for a week and was due back the following day. Michael intended to make the most of his last night of freedom.

“I can’t do this,” she’d said. He remembered teasing her about what she’d meant before making love to her, pouring his heart and soul into her.

When he awoke the next morning she was gone. He called and called. He went to her apartment and got no answer. Her neighbors said they hadn’t seen her.

She was working for a small management company at the time, and when he inquired about her, he was informed that she’d taken a leave of absence.

For weeks afterward, he couldn’t sleep, and he barely ate. Every time his phone rang, he knew it would be Mia, but it never was.

Then about three months later a letter came to his office, no return address.

Dear Michael,

I know I took the coward’s way out. But if I didn’t I would have never found the strength to leave you.

No matter what it is that we feel for each other, it was wrong. We were wrong. And if I could do that to another woman, then what kind of woman did that make me?

I hurt. Every day I hurt. But I know in time it will get better. And you will find a way to be the husband Christine deserves.

I wish you all good things, my love, now and always.

Please don’t try to contact me. It’s best for all of us.

Mia

He still had that letter. He’d kept it all these years. Memorized every line. He would recite it to himself whenever the overwhelming urge to call or see her would consume him.

Most ironic, less than a year after Mia walked out of his life, Christine filed for divorce. She’d found someone else.

He supposed it was what he’d deserved, and he’d agreed to the divorce uncontested.

Michael turned away from the window, just as the rain began to fall. He was a free man now, a wealthy man who could have whomever and whatever he wanted. He wanted Mia Turner. And he was going to have her, no matter how long it took or what it took to achieve his goal. He’d honored her wishes not to contact her, until now.

He picked up the remnants of his drink and finished it off. It was just a matter of time, he thought as the golden-brown liquid heated his insides. A matter of time.

“Whew, it’s pouring out there,” Steven muttered, shaking himself off as he crossed the threshold of the apartment that he and Mia shared.

He’d given up his tiny one-bedroom apartment when he and Mia decided that they wanted to be with each other exclusively. That was six months ago, and he hadn’t regretted a day of it.

He’d often envied the stability of Blake and Savannah’s marriage, although he would never admit that to Blake, even though they were best friends. Blake and Savannah were a team and the union had grounded and matured Blake in a way that nothing else had. Savannah and now their new baby were his life. And the business that he and Blake had built from the ground up, which had been his number-one priority, now took second place to his wife and daughter.

Steven had often teased Blake about how square he’d become since his marriage: no more hanging out with the fellas, dating, chasing women, or even talking about them. Steven couldn’t imagine himself with the same woman day in and day out—tied down. The thought often chilled him. Until he met Mia. She turned his world on its ear and he was still pleasantly reeling from the aftershocks. Never in his wildest imaginings did he think he’d be looking forward to coming home to his woman at night.

He shook his head in wonder as he dropped his umbrella in the stand by the door.

Sounds of the evening news drifted from the television set in the living room, mixed with the tantalizing aromas of something distinctly Italian.

Steven grinned. Mia sure knew the way to her man’s heart—knockout sex and a mouthwatering meal.

Mia poked her head out from the archway leading to the kitchen. Her face was scrubbed clean of makeup and her skin seemed to glow. Her hair was pulled up into a ponytail, revealing the soft angles of her brown sugar-toned face. She greeted him with one of her heart-stopping smiles. God, he loved her.

Steven moved in her direction until he was right next to her. His gray-green eyes moved like a trained masseur’s stroke across her face.

“Hey, baby.” His tone was low and very intimate—just for her.

She slid her right hand around the back of his neck and took the last step that separated them. Her body melded with his like putty, molding itself to the hard lines of his from the broad expanse of his chest to his muscular thighs.

Mia tilted her head slightly upward and brought her mouth to his.

Steven groaned deep in his throat when the softness of her lips connected with his. He maneuvered her so that her back was against the frame of the archway to the kitchen.

The sweetness of her tongue set off a firestorm in his gut. His erection was electrifying and so suddenly powerful that the world receded and an uncontrolled need took its place.

Her long, slender fingers grazed along his body, stoking the growing fire of desire. She reached up and pushed down the fragile spaghetti straps of her thin top and tugged it down, exposing her bare breasts.

Steven nearly hollered. Instead, he feasted on one then the other, as Mia’s short nails dug into his shoulder blades and her whispers of “Yes, yes, yes,” rose in concert with the thunder that boomed in the night.

He dropped to his knees, pulling down her cutoff shorts and pink thong in the process, until he came face-to-face with her hidden treasure. Like a moth to a flame he was drawn to her, taking the tiny pearl between his lips and teasing and stroking it with his tongue until her inner thighs began to tremble and her knees grew weak.

Steven rose, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants in one smooth motion, freeing himself, his phallus hard and pulsing. He lifted her off the floor and she wrapped her legs tightly around his waist and locked her arms around his neck.

She was hot and wet when Steven pushed up inside her and he nearly exploded with that first thrust.

Their coupling was hard and fast, the need between them so intense that fulfillment was the one and only goal.

And when it came, their cries of ecstasy rose above the drumroll of thunder and was more brilliant than the lightning that kept silhouetting the Manhattan skyline.

Mia sat behind the closed doors of her office, reviewing the data that she’d collected on Michael and Avante Enterprises. He was currently the management company for Mercury Entertainment, which groomed and produced new R & B stars. She did a check of the client list and found it to be impressive, to say the least. She recognized more than a few of the names. According to the information that she had, Avante was in the process of planning a major red-carpet event to debut its new artists.

She smiled. She had what she needed. Although Avante oversaw the operations, they subcontracted out all the work.

Mia turned on her shredder and one by one she slid the pages through. Couldn’t be too careful.

All night, even after that incredible erotic romp with Steven, her thoughts continued to drift back to Michael and the job at hand. She knew how weak she could be when it came to Michael. She had maintained her strength by staying away from him all these years. That was about to end.

She knew that she was tempting fate by opening a door that would best be left closed. However, she’d sworn an oath to the Cartel: not only would she uphold the tenets of secrecy, but she would execute her assignments to the best of her ability for the ultimate good of society, without regard to personal interest.

Mia believed in the mission of the Cartel to right wrongs and to protect the welfare of the innocent, as an aid to law enforcement. She took it all very seriously, and she could not allow her personal issues to hamper her ability to get the information that she needed on the escort service.

Besides, she was a big girl. She could handle herself with Michael. Plenty of time, space and other people had passed between them—enough to make what she had to do strictly business.

Strictly business, she counseled herself, as she dialed the offices of Avante Enterprises.

“Good morning. My name is Mia Turner, MT Management. I’d like to speak with Mr. Burke.”

“Please hold.”

Mia squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a breath. She wondered if the receptionist could hear the uncontrollable pounding of her heart that was surely vibrating through the phone.

Another voice, more controlled, less perky came on the line.

“May I help you?”

“Yes. I’m calling to speak with Mr. Burke.”

“Mr. Burke is very busy at the moment. Maybe I can help you.”

She hadn’t realized that Michael had risen to the point of having two screeners for his calls.

“Perhaps if you let him know that it’s Mia Turner…”

There was a moment of deafening silence.

Ms. Control cleared her throat. “He really cannot be disturbed, but I’ll be happy to take a message.”

Mia’s slender neck jerked back. She was about to blurt out, “Say what?” but remembered who she was—a professional.

“Why don’t I do this—I’ll call him on his cell a bit later. Perhaps he won’t be so busy then,” she said, playing the power game. Of course, she didn’t have Michael’s cell-phone number, but this chick didn’t know that. “And who am I speaking with?”

“Brenda Forde. I’m Mr. Burke’s executive assistant.”

I’ll just bet you are. “Thanks so much for your help…Brenda.” She hung up.

Mia sat back and tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth. She could have left a number for him to call her back, but that would have defeated her purpose of pretending to have the upper hand. Besides, she wasn’t quite ready for Michael to have a direct connection to her.

But now that she’d lied and said she’d reach him on his cell phone, she’d have no logical reason to call back.

While she was pondering her next move, Ashley buzzed her on the intercom.

Mia stabbed the flashing red light. “Yes.”

“There’s a Michael Burke on the line for you.”

Mia nearly choked. “Who?” she asked with all the calm she could summon.

“Michael Burke. Could that be the Michael Burke of Avante Enterprises—the one that Felicia and Linda said referred them?”

“I…suppose so.” Her heart was galloping at breakneck speed.

“He’s on line two.”

“Thanks,” she managed. “I’ll take it.”

For several moments she stared at the flashing red light. Would he sound the same? What did he want? How would she respond?

The unanswered questions rushed through her head. Finally she picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Mia…”

The deep bass of his voice rolled through her in waves. For an instant nothing stood between them, but then she remembered what she had to do.

“Michael, how are you?”

“Actually, quite well.”

Silence. Then they both spoke at once.

“You first,” Michael conceded.

“I wanted to thank you for the referral. I must admit I was surprised when they told me it had come from you.”

“Why?”

The one-word question was suffused with a melancholy tone. Although it was asking the obvious, the inflection of his voice was asking her for an answer she couldn’t give.

“I…had no idea…”

“What, that I’ve followed your career?”

He had? “Well…yes.”

“I have. I know all about your business, that you’re doing very well. I have friends who have seen you around the city. They tell me that you’re still beautiful,” he said softly.

She shut her eyes and a Technicolor image of Michael bloomed behind her lids.

“So now that we’ve gotten the formalities out of the way, was that the only reason for your call today?”

Mia cleared her throat and tried to clear her mind, but it was pointless.

“Yes. Why else would I call? I mean, it was very generous of you and I wanted to thank you.”

“I think you know that I’ve always wanted the best for…my clients and myself. And that’s what you are.”

Why couldn’t she get her brain to work and her lips to move? She felt like an idiot. Concentrate.

“I took a look at some of the projects that you’re working on,” she finally said, taking the first step into the land of no return. “And I was wondering if you’d contracted with anyone for the upcoming red-carpet event for Raven, the new R & B artist.”

“I have two outfits that I’m considering, but if you wanted to handle it, I can call them off right now.”

She laughed nervously. “Just like that?”

“Why not? You are the best at what you do?”

She drew in a breath.

“Why don’t we meet and talk about it?”

This was going better than she’d hoped. “Sure, I can come to your office.” She needed to get access in order to plant some listening devices and perhaps a small camera.

“I thought we could discuss it over drinks. I can have a car pick you up at your office about six.”

“Six? Tonight?”

“No time like the present. You do want the assignment, don’t you?”

“I don’t even have a proposal prepared.”

“We can discuss it when we see each other. Six o’clock. A black Lincoln will be out front. I’ve got to go. I have a meeting in a few minutes. I’ll see you later.” He disconnected the call before she could come up with a reason not to.

Slowly, she returned the handset to its cradle. Six o’clock. Absently she glanced up at the clock on the wall. Four hours. She had four hours to prepare to see the man her heart would not let her forget.

There would never be enough time.