Kitabı oku: «The Highest Bidder»

The Highest Bidder (Books 1-6)
Gilded Secrets
Maureen Child
Exquisite Acquisitions
Charlene Sands
A Silken Seduction
Yvonne Lindsay
A Precious Inheritance
Paula Roe
The Rogue’s Fortune
Cat Schield
A Golden Betrayal
Barbara Dunlop

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

Gilded Secrets

“So, what are you doing here?”

“I work here,” Vance said, one corner of his mouth lifting.

Brilliant, Charlie. Just brilliant. “Yes, but you usually don’t come to the auctions.”

He shrugged. “I wanted to see you.”

“You see me every day.” Nerves plucked at her insides and Charlie fought to keep from showing them.

“Yeah, but this way’s different,” he said. “We’re not in the office. We’re more like … friends.”

She laughed and took a sip of her water. “Friends?”

“Something wrong with that?”

Oh, if he only knew. They weren’t friends. Friends didn’t make friends feel all hot and flustered and nervous. Friends didn’t inspire dreams that had her waking up in the middle of the night reaching out for him. And friends most certainly didn’t spy on each other—or have the power to fire each other, for that matter.

“I guess not,” she said, because she could hardly repeat everything that had just raced through her mind.

“Good. Because I’d like to take my ‘friend’ out to dinner tonight.”

“What?”

About the Author

MAUREEN CHILD is a California native who loves to travel. Every chance they get, she and her husband take off on another research trip. An author of more than sixty books, Maureen loves a happy ending and still swears that she has the best job in the world. She lives in Southern California with her husband, two children and a Golden Retriever with delusions of grandeur. Visit Maureen’s website: www.maureenchild.com

To the five talented, amazing women I was lucky enough to work with on this continuity. Thanks to you all for making the work so much fun!

One

Vance Waverly stood outside the auction house that bore his name and stared up at the impressive facade. The old building had had a face-lift or two over the past 150 years, but the heart of it remained. A structure dedicated to showcasing the beautiful, the historical, the unique.

He smiled to himself, letting his gaze slide across the “lucky” seven stories. At street level, twin cypress trees, trained into spirals, stood silent sentinel at the doorway. Windowpanes glittered in the early-summer light. Black, wrought-iron railings framed a second-story balcony. Gray stone gave the building its aura of dignity and the wide, arched window above the double front doors was etched with a single word—Waverly.

A glimmer of pride rose up inside Vance as he stared at the world his great-great uncle, Windham Waverly, had created. The long-dead man had ensured his own version of immortality by leaving behind the auction house that carried an illustrious reputation around the world.

And Vance was one of the last remaining Waverlys. So he had a proprietary interest in seeing that the auction house remained at the top of its game. As a senior board member, he made certain that he was involved in everything from the layout of the catalog to hunting down pieces worthy of being auctioned at Waverly’s. This place was more his home than his luxury condo overlooking the Hudson River. The condo was where he slept.

Waverly’s was where he lived.

“Yo, buddy!” a voice shouted from behind him. “You gonna be there all day or what?”

Vance turned to see a FedEx driver, packages stacked on the dolly he was balancing, waiting impatiently behind him. Vance stepped out of the way and let the man pass.

Before slipping into Waverly’s, the driver muttered, “People think they own the damn sidewalks.”

“Gotta love New York,” Vance muttered.

“Morning.”

Vance glanced to his right and watched as his half brother walked up to meet him. Rarely in New York, Roark had flown in for a meeting with some of his contacts. He was as tall as Vance, over six feet, with brown hair and green eyes. Not much of a family resemblance, but then, the brothers only shared a father. And until five years ago, when their father, Edward Waverly, died, Vance hadn’t even known Roark existed.

In those five years, they had built up a solid friendship, and Vance was grateful—even though Roark insisted on keeping their family ties a secret. Roark still wasn’t convinced that Edward Waverly had actually been his father. But the connection was enough to keep him at Waverly’s. There was no proof beyond the letter Edward had left with his will. It was enough for Vance, but he could respect his brother’s wishes.

“Thanks for meeting me,” Vance said with a nod.

“Better be important,” Roark said, falling into step beside Vance as they walked past Waverly’s toward a small café on the corner. “Late night and I’m not officially awake yet.”

He was wearing dark glasses against the sunlight, a worn brown leather jacket, T-shirt, jeans and boots. For a second, Vance envied his brother. He’d rather be in jeans himself, but his suit and tie were what was expected at Waverly’s. And Vance always did the right thing.

“Yeah,” he said as they claimed an outside table beneath a cheerfully striped umbrella. “It’s important. Or it could be.”

“Intriguing.” Roark turned his coffee cup over at the same time Vance did and they both waited for the waitress to fill the cups and take their orders before speaking again. “So tell me.”

Vance cupped the heavy porcelain mug between his palms and studied the black surface of his coffee for a long minute while he gathered his thoughts. He wasn’t a man who usually paid attention to gossip or rumor. He had no patience for those who did, either. But when it concerned Waverly’s, he couldn’t take a chance.

“Have you heard any talk about Ann?”

“Ann Richardson?” Roark asked. “Our CEO?”

“Yes, that Ann,” Vance muttered. Seriously, how many Anns did they know?

Roark pulled his sunglasses off and set them onto the table. He took a quick look around, at the people passing on the tree-lined sidewalk, at the other customers sitting at tables. “What kind of talk?”

“Specifically? About her and Dalton Rothschild. You know, the head of Rothschild auction house? Our main competitor?”

Roark just stared at him for a beat or two, then shook his head. “No way.”

“I don’t want to believe it, either,” Vance admitted.

The CEO of Waverly’s, Ann Richardson was brilliant at her job. Smart, capable, she had worked her way up to the top position in the firm, becoming the youngest person ever—male or female—to head an auction house of its size and scope.

Roark sat back in his chair and shook his head firmly. “What have you heard?”

“Tracy called me last night to give me a heads-up about a column that’s appearing in today’s Post.”

“Tracy.” Roark frowned, then nodded. “Tracy Bennett. The reporter you dated last year.”

“Yeah. She says the ‘story’ breaks today.”

“What story?”

“That Ann had an affair with Dalton.”

“Ann’s too smart to fall for Dalton’s line of BS.” Roark dismissed the idea out of hand.

Vance would like to. But in his experience, people made stupid decisions all the time. They usually blamed “love” for those bad choices, but the truth was, love was just the excuse to do whatever the hell they wanted to do. Love was a fable sold by greeting card companies and bridal fairs.

“I agree,” he said. “But if there is something between them—”

Roark whistled. “What can we do about any of it?”

“Not much. I’ll talk to Ann to let her know about this article that’s coming out.”

“And?”

“And,” Vance said, gaze fixed on his brother, “I want you to keep your eyes and ears open. I trust Ann, but I damn sure don’t trust Dalton. Dalton’s always wanted Waverly’s out of the way. If he can’t buy us out, he’ll try a takeover—or try to bury us.” Vance took a sip of his coffee and narrowed his gaze on Roark. “We’re not going to let that happen.”

“Good morning, Mr. Waverly. I’ve got your coffee and the week’s agenda ready for you. Oh! And the invitation to Senator Crane’s garden party arrived by messenger late yesterday after you’d left.”

Vance stopped in the doorway to his office and stared at his new assistant. Charlotte Potter was petite and curvy, with long, wavy blond hair restrained by a ponytail at the base of her neck. She had vivid blue eyes, full lips on a mouth that was rarely quiet and she seemed to be in constant motion.

He’d hired her as a favor to a retiring board member who had developed a fondness for her when she’d been his assistant. But Charlotte had only been with Vance a week now and he knew it wasn’t going to work out.

She was too young, too pretty and too … She turned away to bend down and open the bottom drawer of the wood-grain file cabinet and he shook his head. Vance’s gaze locked on the curve of her behind in the sleek black slacks she wore. Charlotte was too everything.

When she stood up, producing a thick, linen envelope for him, he told himself that he should simply pawn her services off on someone else in the company. He couldn’t exactly fire her for being a distraction, but he sure as hell resented it.

Politically incorrect or not, Vance preferred his assistants to be either matronly or male.

His former assistant, Claire, had retired at sixty-five. She was cool, unflappable and notoriously anal about her workspace. There had never been so much as a pen out of place on her desk. Vance had felt confident that Claire was on top of everything.

Charlotte, on the other hand … He scowled at the ficus tree in the corner, the ferns on the shelf closest to the window and the deep-purple African violets on the corner of her desk. There were framed photos taking up space on her desk as well, though he hadn’t looked at them too closely; he hadn’t taken the time to do much more than notice the clutter.

Her pens were kept in a mug shaped like a New York Jets football helmet and there was a dish of M&M’s beside her phone. Clearly, he never should have done that favor. No good deed goes unpunished, his father had often said. Turned out, the old man was right.

Vance didn’t want distractions in the office under the best of circumstances. And now, with possible trouble looming with Rothschild, he wanted it even less—and if that made him a damn chauvinist, so be it.

As one of the last Waverlys associated with the auction house, Vance liked keeping his business hours devoted to business. And a pretty woman was not conducive to concentration.

“Thanks, Charlotte,” he said, heading for his office. “Hold my calls until after the board meeting.”

“I will. Oh, and call me Charlie,” she said brightly.

Vance stopped, looked back over his shoulder at her and was nearly blinded by her brilliant smile. She went back to her desk and began flipping through the stack of mail. The long sweep of her hair fell over one shoulder and lay across her breast. Something inside him fisted uncomfortably. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but the woman was impossible to ignore.

Scowling to himself, he leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb and sipped at the coffee she’d given him. Watching her, he realized she was humming again as she had all last week. Off-key humming. Tone-deaf off-key.

He shook his head wearily. He had calls to make to Waverly’s London office, to check on upcoming auctions there. A corner of his mind was still working over the rumors about Ann and what that could mean to the auction house. And he was in no mood for the board meeting scheduled for that afternoon.

Charlotte straightened up, turned around and gasped, slapping one hand to her chest as if to hold her heart in place. Then she laughed shortly and shook her head. “You scared me for a second. I thought you had gone to your office.”

He should have. Instead, he’d been “distracted.” Not good. Frowning at his own wayward thoughts, he asked, “Did you have a chance to type up the agenda for today’s meeting? I want to make some new notes before I meet with the board.”

“Of course.” She walked to her desk and plucked a file folder from a stack of similar ones. She handed it to him. “Along with the meeting agenda, I printed out the list you made of the private collections coming up for bid in the next few weeks.”

He opened the folder, noting the neatly presented agenda with his handwritten notes now added in bold typeface. There were a few pages behind the first and he idly flipped through them, stopping at the last one. “What’s this?”

“Oh.” She smiled. “The next catalog layout looked a little crowded, so I adjusted a couple of the pictures and …”

He glanced at the work she’d done and had to admit it looked much better than it had before. The Ming Dynasty vases were each spotlighted now against a softly lit background, rather than lumped into a section that buried their distinctive beauty.

“I know I shouldn’t have, but—”

“You did a good job,” he said, closing the folder and looking up into her soft blue eyes.

“Really?” She gave him a bright smile. “Thank you. That’s great. I was a little nervous about taking that on myself, I can tell you. It’s just that this job is very important to me and I want to do it well.”

An unfamiliar twinge of guilt poked at Vance as he read the eagerness in her gaze. She fairly vibrated with the thrill of her new job. Which only made him feel worse for regretting taking her on in the first place.

So maybe he’d give this a shot. All he had to do was stop noticing Charlotte as a woman.

But one quick look up and down her petite, curvy figure shut down that idea.

The phone rang and she reached for it. “Vance Waverly’s office.”

Her voice was low, seductive. Or maybe that was just his impression, he chided himself.

“Please hold,” she said and hit the button on her phone. When she turned to him, Charlotte said, “It’s Derek Stone, calling from the London office.”

“Oh, good.” Grateful for the excuse to leave Charlotte and get back to work, Vance took the folder and stepped into his office. “Put him through, please, Charlotte. And after this call, hold all the others.”

“Absolutely, Mr. Waverly,” she said.

Vance closed the door then strode across the room to his desk, barely noticing the thud of his footsteps against the gleaming wooden floor. Paintings by undiscovered artists hung alongside a couple of old masters on the ivory walls. A long couch hugged one wall, with a low-slung table and two chairs opposite it. A wall of windows stood behind his desk, offering a view of Madison Avenue and the always-busy city of Manhattan.

Reaching for his phone, he turned his back on the view, dropped into his chair and said, “Derek. Good to talk to you.”

Completely drained, Charlie blew out a relieved breath and practically crawled back to her desk. The bright, cheerful smile on her face felt brittle enough to crack and she hoped to heaven that Vance Waverly hadn’t sensed just how nervous she was around him.

“Does he really have to smell so good?” she muttered as she fell into her chair and propped her elbows on the desk. Cupping her face in her palms, she told herself to get a grip.

Her hormones didn’t listen, sadly, and continued their happy little dance of excitement. This happened every time she got close to Vance Waverly and it was damn humiliating. How could she be so attracted to a boss who terrified half the people in this building?

But there it was. He was tall and broad-shouldered with dark brown hair that always looked a little tousled. His brown eyes had flecks of gold in them and his mouth almost never curved in a smile. He was all business and she had the distinct feeling that he was watching her closely, looking for any excuse he could find to fire her.

Which she was not going to allow to happen.

This job was the most important thing she had going for her. Well, she thought, sliding a glance at the photo of the smiling toddler on her desk, the second most important thing. But professionally, it was no contest. Working for Vance Waverly, a senior board member, was the chance of a lifetime and she wasn’t going to lose it.

Taking a breath, Charlie nodded and sat up straight. She glanced at the photo of her son, Jake, again, and reminded herself that she might have been hired as a favor to an old friend, but she had the qualifications to do this job brilliantly. She was going to stay positive and upbeat and cheerful if it killed her.

When her phone rang, she grabbed it quickly. “Vance Waverly’s office.”

“How’s it going?” a familiar, feminine voice asked in a rush.

Charlie shot a quick look at the closed door to her boss’s office as if to make sure he was locked away and oblivious to this phone call. “So far so good,” she said.

“What did he think of your ideas for the catalog layout?”

“You were right, Katie,” she said, imagining her friend down in Accounting grinning in response. Charlie had worked on the new layout for the catalog in secret, indulging herself with how she would have done things. Katie was the one who suggested she actually show her ideas to Vance. “He said I did a good job.”

“See? Told you.” Katie was typing as she talked; Charlie heard her fingers tapping wildly against the keys. “I knew he’d like what you did. He’s a smart guy. He’s bound to notice that you’re doing a terrific job.”

“In the last week, mostly he’s just been watching me, as if he’s waiting for me to screw up,” Charlie told her, with another glance at her baby son’s smiling face.

“Maybe he’s just watching you because you’re gorgeous.”

“I don’t think so.” Though that thought sent a skittering of something delicious whipping through her. Instantly, though, she poured metaphorical ice water on those feelings. She wasn’t here for a date. She was here to build a better life for her and her son. And this new job with the lovely raise was a big part of her grand plan. All she had to do was convince her new boss that she was indispensable.

“Have you looked in the mirror lately?” Katie countered. “Trust me, if I was playing for the other team, even I would hit on you.”

Charlie laughed at the very idea. Katie was juggling so many men she hardly had a moment to herself. But the truth was, Katie had a point. Most people looked at Charlie—blond hair, big blue eyes and boobs any Barbie doll would be proud of, and immediately came to the conclusion that she didn’t have a brain in her head. She’d spent most of her life proving people wrong.

The one time she had gone with her heart instead of her head …

“He’s not like that,” Charlie said with another look at his closed door.

“Honey, all men are ‘like that.’”

Charlie ignored that and lowered her voice. “I know he only hired me as a favor to Quentin.”

“So what? Who cares why he hired you, Charlie?” The sounds of typing stopped abruptly and Katie’s voice came across the phone loud and clear. “It doesn’t matter how you got there. The point is, the job is yours now. And you’re already proving that you’re perfect for it.”

“Thanks,” Charlie said. “Now, I’m going to do some perfect filing. Talk to you later.”

When she hung up, Charlie was still smiling.

Two

Two hours later, Vance crumpled the newspaper and tossed it aside. Fury rose up inside him but he quickly reined it in. Just as Tracy had promised, the story about a possible affair between Ann Richardson and Dalton Rothschild was on page twenty-six. For a second, Vance told himself that since the so-called story was buried in a small column on a page filled with ads, it might get ignored.

But the chances of that were actually slim to none. There was nothing people liked better than the makings of a good scandal and this one would be talked about for weeks. It wasn’t just the rumors of an affair, but the possibility of collusion that had him worried. He hoped to hell there was nothing to it, because if there was, they were looking at official investigations, charges—possibly even the destruction of Waverly’s.

He snatched up his phone, punched in a number and waited for it to be answered. When it was, he snapped, “Dammit, Tracy.”

“Vance, not my fault,” the woman on the other end said matter-of-factly. “My editor got a tip and we acted on it. At least I gave you a heads-up.”

“Yeah, for all the good that does me.” Tracy had called him late last night. Not much of a warning system, and he had a feeling she had only done it because she wanted to give him a little extra time to stew over it.

He stood up and turned to stare out at the city streets. Manhattan was sweltering under a vicious summer sun. Tourists strolled along Madison Avenue, getting buffeted by the quicker-moving locals who had places to go and didn’t want to linger in the heat.

“Is there any proof of this story?”

“You know I can’t answer that.”

“Fine. But if you have any other ‘tips’ let me know before you go to print, will you?”

“No promises,” she snapped. Then she asked, “Sound familiar?” just before she hung up.

Vance winced, knowing full well she shouldn’t be telling him a damn thing. A year ago, Tracy had been in his bed for a couple of months and when he’d told her it was over, he had reminded her that he’d gone into the affair warning her of “no promises.”

It was the same warning he gave every woman who entered his life. He wasn’t looking for long-term. He’d seen what his mother’s and older sister’s deaths had done to his father. Hell, it had crippled the man, leaving him a broken, empty shell. If love was that powerful, then Vance wanted nothing to do with it. As for having a family of his own? He’d never even been tempted. So, since he had zero interest in finding a wife, for God’s sake, why bother pretending anything different? Wasn’t it better to be honest with a woman up front?

He shook his head to rid himself of those thoughts, since they really had nothing to do with the current situation anyway.

Setting the phone back in its cradle, Vance stuffed his hands into his pockets and shook his head. Waverly’s was all he had and damn if he’d lose it. His family had built this place and, as one of the last Waverlys still standing, he would do whatever was necessary to save it.

Turning, he buzzed the intercom. “Charlie, would you come in here, please?”

A second or two later, his door opened and she was standing in the doorway. Her long blond hair hung over one shoulder and her wide blue eyes were fixed on him. Once again, Vance felt that punch of something hot hit his system and he was forced to deliberately quash it.

“Is there a problem?”

“You could say that,” Vance muttered and waved her inside. He pointed at the couch on the far wall and said, “Have a seat.”

She did and he noticed the wary expression on her face.

“Relax,” he said, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. “I’m not firing you.”

She let out a breath and gave him a smile. “Good to know. What can I do for you, then?”

Bracing his forearms on his knees, Vance looked into her eyes and said, “You can tell me everything you’ve heard lately about Ann Richardson.”

“Excuse me?”

“If there’s been talk, I want to know about it,” he told her flatly. “You must have heard about the article in the paper.”

Her eyes shifted away from him for a second before returning to meet his stare. “The phone’s been ringing for the last half hour with people wanting to talk to you.”

“Perfect,” he muttered. “Who?”

“I’ve got a stack of messages on my desk, but mainly, it’s the other board members and then there were a couple of reporters. Also, a cable business network wants an interview.”

He fell back against the sofa cushion and shook his head again. “This is going to get much worse before it’s over.” He had to talk to Ann. Figure out what was going on and the best way to mount a defense. His gaze speared into Charlie’s.

“I know people are talking about this here in the company. What have you heard?”

She frowned at him. “I don’t listen to gossip.”

“Ordinarily, a good thing. Right now, I need to know what people in the building are saying.”

She took a long, slow breath and looked as if she were having an internal argument with herself on whether or not to answer him. Briefly, Vance considered making that request an order, but discounted that notion. He didn’t want to make her defensive and careful about what she said. He needed as much information as he could get.

She bit into her bottom lip and finally blurted out, “People are worried. They’re afraid Waverly’s will be shut down, that they’re going to lose their jobs. Frankly, I’m a little worried, too. The article mentioned possible collusion—”

“Yeah, I know it did,” he muttered.

“What does Ms. Richardson say?”

Vance scowled. “I haven’t spoken to her about it yet. I got a tip about the article coming out today, but not in time to do anything about it. I expect it will be a topic of conversation during the board meeting, though.”

“What do you think is going on?” she asked and he realized that by asking her opinion on what was happening in Waverly’s, he’d opened a door between them.

A week ago, she would have been too skittish, too nervous to ask him that. Now, though, things had apparently changed. Oddly, he didn’t mind. She was a good listener and it was nice to be able to talk this out with someone who knew what was going on, yet didn’t have a major stake in the outcome.

“I don’t know,” he admitted and that cost him. Vance didn’t like not having the answers. He wasn’t accustomed to being in the dark. He preferred being on top of any given situation. Knowing the answers before the questions were asked. In this case, though, all he had to go on were his gut instincts. “I like Ann. She’s always struck me as a sensible, honest woman. She’s been good for Waverly’s …”

“But?”

One corner of his mouth lifted. Not just a good listener, but insightful, too, hearing the hesitation in his voice.

“But the truth is, I don’t know her very well.” He leaned back against the couch. “No one here does. She does her job, but keeps to herself.”

“There’s a lot of that going around,” she murmured.

Cocking his head, he asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She stiffened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—I only meant that you—Well, you’re pretty much a loner, too, and … Oh, just fire me and get it over with.”

For the first time in longer than he cared to admit, Vance laughed. He saw the surprise on her face and knew it was echoed on his own features. For a week, he’d been regretting hiring Charlotte Potter. Right at that moment, he couldn’t remember why. She was smart, competent and she made him laugh.

If only she didn’t smell so good.

“As I said,” he told her, “I’m not going to fire you.”

Still, irritated by his own thoughts, by the flicker of something hot bristling inside him, Vance shut it all down. He pushed up from the couch and purposely made his voice brisk and businesslike. Back on firm footing, boss to assistant. “If you do hear anything, I want you to tell me immediately.”

Charlie slowly rose to her feet and lifted her chin in a defiant tilt. “I won’t spy on my friends.”

She went up another notch in his estimation. One thing Vance could admire was loyalty. “I’m not asking you to spy,” he pointed out. “Just to listen.”

“I can do that.”

“Good.” He opened the closet door, pulled out his suit coat and slipped it on. “I’m leaving for the board meeting now.” He checked the gold watch on his left wrist. He’d be late if he didn’t leave right away, and Vance Waverly was never late for anything.

“I should be back by four—have those condition reports on the Ming vases ready for me when I get back.”

“Yes, sir.”

He heard her sharp reply, and for a second, regretted the fact that she was doing much as he was—shifting back into business mode. Then the regret dropped away. Better this way. Easier. And far more logical. He didn’t look back as he stalked from his office, headed for the boardroom and the meeting that would no doubt shake up a few things at Waverly’s.

Charlie let out a breath she hadn’t even been aware she was holding. For a few brief moments, she and Vance had actually been talking like … friends. She’d had a chance at a tiny peek at the man behind the cool facade that usually shrouded him.

And that one peek had completely intrigued her and made her want more. So not a good thing, Charlie told herself firmly. Wanting more with Vance Waverly made as much sense as wanting to spend the afternoon in Paris. And had as much chance of happening.

Nope. He was boss. She was assistant. And never the twain would meet or mingle or anything else for that matter. Frowning to herself, Charlie walked back to her desk. She had been completely off men for more than two years. Hadn’t been attracted to one. Hadn’t been so much as tempted by the thought of romance. Ever since she had made the giant mistake of trusting the wrong man.

But now, for the first time in way too long, she had felt that little tingle of … appreciation? Interest?

“And just like before,” she muttered in disgust, “you picked exactly the wrong man.” Wrong for different reasons, of course, but still …

No, she wouldn’t jeopardize her job, her newfound security, for a passing flirtation. No good could come of that. So Charlie reined in her hormones and then tied them down nice and tight. She didn’t need to be indulging in any fantasies about her boss, for heaven’s sake. What she needed to be doing was impressing the hell out of him—as she’d spent the past week doing—so she could keep this job.

Every step up the ladder was a good one. Charlie had plans. She wouldn’t always be an assistant. She was going to keep learning the business, eventually get her master’s in art history and then get a job as curator or an art specialist there at the house. Just as Ann Richardson, their CEO, had done when she was starting out. The higher Charlie climbed the proverbial ladder, the better the life she could provide for herself and her son.

Jake was what mattered, she reminded herself sternly. Her baby boy was counting on her and she wasn’t going to let him down.

With that thought firmly in mind, Charlie dismissed all her earlier notions about Vance Waverly and got back to work. Picking up a file folder from the edge of her desk, she headed for the jewelry salesroom on the second floor. She had the provenances for several pieces to deliver.

Plush carpet muffled her steps as she walked down the long halls toward the elevator. Throughout the floor, she heard typing and quiet phone conversations. It was a rarified atmosphere up on the seventh floor. Here was where the officers of Waverly’s worked, made the decisions that kept the auction house one of the top of its kind in the world. And here she would make her mark, she told herself as she stepped into the elevator and punched the button for the second floor.

The doors slid shut on a whisper and the subtle strains of classical music sighed out around her. She caught her reflection in the polished brass doors and smiled. When the doors opened again, she walked along gleaming wood floors, listening idly to the click of her own heels tapping out a fast beat.

The first two floors of the venerable old building were devoted to the salesrooms. Each of them was different. Each of them beautiful in its own way.

Polished oak floorboards stretched for what seemed like miles. Paintings and sculptures lined the walls and huge vases filled with fresh flowers created a subtle scent that permeated the air.

The hush of this floor was almost churchlike, and why not? Here was where the treasures of the world came to be admired, and then sold to live again with someone new. Charlie walked to the far room and stepped through the wide, double doorway.

“Charlie!” A male voice called her name and she turned.

Justin Dawes was walking toward her. Justin was the head of the precious-gem department at Waverly’s. About forty, he was balding, far too thin and his kind blue eyes were always narrowed in a squint. He had told her once it was the curse of his profession. Too many hours looking through jeweler’s loupes at the stones he loved so much.

Today Justin looked a little harried and less than his urbane self. His tie was loosened and the sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up to the elbow. His suit coat had been abandoned and thin wisps of brown hair stood straight up at the crown of his head.

“You have the provenances?”

“Right here,” she said and handed over the file.

“Good. That’s great.” He flipped through them, then shot her a look. “They’ve been verified?”

“Over and over again,” she said, smiling. “Justin, you checked all the stones yourself, remember? Even before the provenances came through. Don’t worry. Everything’s good.”

“It’s an important collection,” he told her, glancing back into the room where an auction would be held in two days. “Want to take a look?”

“I really do.”

He took her arm and guided her into the center of the room.

Lighting was everything in an auction house, and Waverly’s spared no expense in seeing things done right. Around the circumference of the huge, oak-paneled room, glass cases stood beneath spotlights that shone down on the fabulous items inside those cases. Those lights made the precious gems glitter and shine like fallen stars—or pieces of a rainbow.

Charlie couldn’t stop the sigh of appreciation. They turned in a slow circle, admiring the whole setup before Justin said, “Come look at this one piece. It’s amazing.”

“Oh, my,” she whispered as she followed Justin toward a single display case. Beneath the glass lay a swell of black velvet and on that velvet was a necklace unlike anything she’d ever seen before.

Gold wire, as thin and fragile as a single strand of hair, dripped with rubies and diamonds. The stones themselves were wrapped in the gold thread, then left to dangle like dreams from the slender chain that made up the base of the piece. The rubies shone like fresh blood and the diamonds were …

“It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?” Justin stared at the stones like a man in love. “Worn by the queen of Cadria more than a hundred years ago. It was crafted especially for her—some say, by Fabergé himself.” He sighed a little. “Of course, we can’t prove that, because even Cadria’s royal family today doesn’t know for sure. A shame, really. Wouldn’t that have looked impressive in the provenance? But still, stunning.”

Charlie shook her head as she looked at the necklace. She wanted to touch it but was terrified to breathe too close to it. “It’s amazing, Justin. But why is the king of Cadria auctioning off so many of the royal jewels?”

“Ah,” he said with a wink, “the current king is honoring his grandmother by establishing a charity in her name, and the proceeds from this sale are going directly to that. Plus, he thinks the publicity from this sale will spur more donors to support his grandmother’s charity.”

“Still seems a shame to get rid of something that belongs to your whole family.”

“Oh, don’t worry about royals, sweetie,” Justin told her. “They have more jewelry and shiny stuff than they know what to do with. These pieces probably won’t even be missed.”

“I would miss a necklace like that,” she said softly. “I’d be too scared of breaking or losing the darn thing to actually wear it, but I would miss it.”

“You’ve got a soft heart, Charlie,” Justin told her with a grin. “Which means you’ll love the legend of the necklace.”

“A legend?”

“Oh, yes. All the best stones come with a legend. Apparently, the then-king had this crafted especially for his bride as a wedding present. It’s said the rubies are charmed somehow and hold the secret to a long and happy marriage.”

Charlie looked over at him and smiled as her heart twisted in her chest. What would that be like, she wondered, to be loved so much? She thought of the queen who had worn it and the king who had clearly adored her and thought that sometimes, real life was even better than fairy tales. “That’s lovely.”

Justin winked at her. “Yeah. And it should really push up the price on the necklace, too. Nothing a bidder likes more than a little history added to a piece.”

She laughed. Couldn’t help it. “You’re shameless.”

“Guilty as charged,” he admitted with a grin.

Charlie reached out one hand toward the glass enclosure, then stopped before touching it. Her fingers curled into her palm.

“It’s okay. Alarms are turned off for the moment. Here, let me show you.” Justin lifted the glass case off the tall wooden base and allowed the necklace the freedom to shine.

“Even prettier,” she said on a sigh. Though it was so far out of her range of possibilities it might as well have been on Mars, Charlie couldn’t help the tickle of avarice that made her want to snatch it up.

“You want to pet it?” he asked, laughing.

“Pet it, try it on, wear it home and sing it to sleep,” Charlie admitted, deliberately putting her hands behind her back to keep herself from giving in to the urge to touch those glittering stones that shone so warmly under the lights.

“Can’t blame you,” Justin said. “And with your coloring, it would look gorgeous on you.”

She thought so, too. In fact, Charlie could almost feel the cool glide of the gold against her skin and the icy feel of each stone settling into place around her neck. Oh, it would be wonderful as well as terrifying to own something that looked so … magical. Then she imagined the expression on Vance Waverly’s handsome face as he draped that priceless necklace around her throat and—Okay. Stop it!

Clearing her mind of thoughts that had no business being there she said, “Yes, well. When I marry a rich prince, I’ll be sure to tell him what kind of necklace to have made for me.”

Justin laughed. “There you go. I like a woman with a plan.”

He set the glass cover back into place and Charlie let her gaze slide around the room. Tomorrow, this room would be filled with rows of straight-backed, velvet-tufted chairs. A podium would be centered at the end of the room and the sound system would be hooked up. The day after that, this room would be bustling with bidders from all over the world, each of them hoping to take home a small piece of the long-dead queen’s collection.

Charlie had already signed on to work the auction in whatever capacity she was needed, but she wouldn’t be envying the buyers. Justin was right, she thought. Charlie did have a plan. But it didn’t include diamonds and rubies. It entailed working her way to the very top of the auction world and being able to buy a house with a yard for her son to play in. Before he was too old to be interested in playing.

Charlie Potter wasn’t the kind of woman men draped in diamonds, and that was okay with her. These pieces were lovely to look at, but the truth was, she’d be too afraid of losing them to ever enjoy owning them.

She had nothing in common with the kind of people who could come in here and walk out with a queen’s jewelry. Which meant, she reminded her hormones, that she had nothing in common with Vance Waverly. That a few minutes of relaxed conversation wasn’t the go-ahead for her to get all dreamy-eyed over him. Besides, she told herself, it was important to pause and remember what had happened the last time she had let her heart take control of her mind.

Three

She took a deep breath, forced a bright smile and said, “You’ve done an amazing job, Justin.”

“Thanks.” He swept the room with an experienced eye. “I think so, too. Should be a hell of an auction. You’ll be working it, right?”

“Oh, I’ll be here.”

“Thought you would.” He gave her a knowing wink.

In the two years she’d been at Waverly’s, she had spent as much time working the actual sales as possible. Her love of auctions had started in college when her roommate had dragged her to a small auction of movie memorabilia. That was all it had taken.

The fast-paced bidding, the treasures from the past and the excited atmosphere sparked by the people attending had all come together to energize Charlie in a way she’d never experienced before. She had loved the whole thing. Every moment. She had watched the bidders, studied the auctioneer and thrilled to the quick pace of items bought and sold. She’d felt a stirring of excitement she had never known and that was enough to set her on the path that had eventually led her to Manhattan and her entry-level job at Waverly’s.

She’d learned everything she could about the auction world and studied both this house and the other stately auction houses. She had wanted to be part of something amazing and every time she walked into this wonderful old building, she felt as if she’d accomplished her dream. At least, the first part of it.

Charlie made a point of working the auctions here, to support Waverly’s, to help where she could and to continue to learn the ins and outs of a business that seemed to change daily. From the first moment she had stepped inside Waverly’s, she had known that she’d found where she belonged. And the feeling had only intensified since that day.

“You know me,” she said quietly, her gaze sliding across the familiar, the exciting. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Excellent. We’ll need as many hands as possible behind the scenes.”

“Sure.” Thankfully, the day-care facility at Waverly’s was open during all the auctions so that employees could leave their children somewhere safe while they worked. Jake did love being with all of his little friends and … She checked her watch. “I’ve gotta go, Justin. Thanks for the grand tour.”

“No problem,” he said, already opening the file she’d brought him to study the provenances. “See you Saturday.”

“Right.” She turned and walked out of the luscious display of jewels that were the stuff of dreams. Taking the elevator up two floors, she eagerly left behind dreams for a chance to see her reality.

“I’m not going to dignify these unfounded rumors with a response,” Ann Richardson said softly, her gaze sweeping the board members gathered around the long, cherrywood conference table. “And I hope I can count on all of you for your support.”

People shifted uncomfortably in their seats, but Vance held perfectly still, his gaze fixed on the woman facing them down with the air of a young queen. Tall and willowy, Ann had her ice-blond hair styled into a perfect, curled-under style that ended at her jawline. Her blue eyes were sharp as she met the stares of the other board members. She wore one of her elegantly tailored business suits—this one black with gray pinstripes—and her chin was lifted at a defiant angle. She looked proud and strong as she silently dared anyone to contradict her.

Vance had always admired Ann Richardson, but never more so than right now. With the article in the newspaper, the entire city would be whispering about her, speculating about her. But it seemed that she had chosen a path to take—steely indifference—and he had to applaud it. If she fought the charges with a vehement argument, it would only spur on the talk. She couldn’t admit they were true—even if they were. The only road she could take was the “no comment” route. By doing it here first, with the board, she would be able to gauge how well it would go over elsewhere.

The board members looked shaken and worried and he knew they were all thinking about the possible ramifications of this situation. If it wasn’t cleared up soon, rumor would become suspicion and suspicion would become fact. Whether or not she was guilty of anything, Ann’s career and reputation could very well be destroyed—along with Waverly’s.

Seconds ticked past and the quiet in the room was deafening. Here on the seventh floor, the boardroom was a study in understated elegance. The walls were a pale beige, the crown molding a stark white. Old masters hung on the walls and a twisted brass sculpture of Atlas balancing the world on his shoulders stood in one corner.

Vance held his peace, since he wanted to hear everyone else’s reactions before he spoke. He knew he wouldn’t have to wait long. It took about ten seconds.

“It’s outrageous is what it is,” George Cromwell sputtered first.

“These innuendoes are baseless,” Ann insisted, her voice calm. “I would never put Waverly’s at risk, and I hope you all know that.”

“Yes, Ann,” George Cromwell said from his seat at the end of the table. “I’m sure we all appreciate your devotion to the company, but this article clearly states that we have a problem.”

Vance saw the flinch Ann couldn’t quite disguise. But since he was the youngest member of the board, he was betting no one else noticed.

“The article is nothing more than rumor and supposition.”

“But it’s smoke,” George insisted. “And people will assume that where there is smoke, there is fire.”

Vance rolled his eyes and shook his head. If there was a cliché, George would find it. At seventy-five, he was long past the age of retiring, but the old fox had no intention of giving up his seat on the board. He liked the power. Liked being able to have a say in things. And right now, it looked as though he was enjoying putting Ann through the wringer.

“How can we take your word for this, when there was clearly enough evidence for this reporter to write his story?”

“Since when does a reporter need to back up a story?” she asked haughtily. “There’s more fiction in the daily papers than you’ll find at the nearest bookstore and you all know it.”

Good point, Vance thought, still regarding their CEO warily. He wished he knew Ann better, but he didn’t. She seemed like a warm, congenial enough person, but she’d made a point of keeping people at a distance, refusing to make friends—and now that strategy just might bite her in the ass.

“People believe what they read,” George intoned darkly.

“George, do hush up.” Edwina Burrows spoke up from the end of the table.

“You know I’m right about this,” the man countered hotly.

As the two older people shot verbal darts at each other, Vance watched Ann. Her mouth worked as if she were grinding her teeth and Vance couldn’t really blame her. It had to be hard, standing in front of this bunch, defending yourself against what was at this point merely rumor.

Finally, she turned to him and asked, “Vance? What about you? As the last remaining Waverly on the board, I value your opinion. Do you believe me?”

He studied her for a long minute. Vance knew that now the others were waiting to hear what he had to say. And he knew that whatever he said would swing sentiment either for or against Ann. His first responsibility was to the company and the thousands of people both here and abroad who depended on Waverly’s for their very livelihoods.

But he also owed Ann his support. She’d stepped into the role of CEO and done a hell of a job. She was smart and capable and had never given him any reason to doubt her motives or her loyalties to the house.

He wasn’t convinced that she was telling the complete truth, though. Like it or not, George had a point. That reporter had picked up on some tidbit of gossip as the basis for the story. But even if there was something between Ann and Dalton, Vance still didn’t believe she would sell out Waverly’s.

He’d like to have all the information before he took a stand one way or the other, but that wasn’t going to happen. What it came down to for Vance was this: Did he trust his gut instincts or not? Bottom line? He always went with his instincts. So he took a chance.

“I believe you,” he said loudly enough that no one could miss it.

He saw her shoulders relax just a bit in silent relief and he knew he’d done the right thing to support her publicly. But he wasn’t finished.

“That said,” Vance continued, looking directly into Ann’s blue eyes, “if this reporter continues to throw mud at Waverly’s, we’ll all need to be prepared.”

His silent message to her was, If I’m wrong about you, you had better have a good backup plan—because if it means saving Waverly’s, you’re gone.

She gave him a small, tight nod and Vance was pretty sure she understood.

“You’re right,” Ann said aloud. Shifting her gaze back to the rest of the board, she continued by saying, “Dalton Rothschild is not to be trusted. If he thinks there’s a chink in our armor, he will make a move.”

“Such as?” Edwina asked.

Ann gritted her teeth. “A hostile takeover wouldn’t be out of the question.”

Vance listened to the outraged shouts and furious whispers that rolled through the room and wondered why none of them had considered that possibility before. He certainly had. The implications of what this might mean were staggering. Rothschild knew that if he tried to simply buy out Waverly’s he would hit a stone wall. But if he thought to take it over by means of destroying the auction house first, then scooping up what was left, that was something else.

Ruin the house’s reputation, and then buy them out when the business was trashed.

Not a bad plan, Vance thought with icy calm. But one that would fail. He’d see to it himself. Gaze fixed on Ann, he watched as she waited for the tumult around the table to die down. When it didn’t happen fast enough, she rapped her knuckles against the cherrywood table as if she were a teacher trying to restrain a room full of kids. But it worked. When it was quiet, she spoke up again, cool and collected.

“I need you all to be on guard at all times. Keep an eye on our employees. If Dalton means business, he could be wooing an insider into spilling our secrets. We can’t take anything for granted right now. Waverly’s needs us—all of us—to be on our toes.”

Vance scowled at the thought. He didn’t like the idea that there might be a spy among them at Waverly’s. He’d known most of the people he worked with for years. A lot of them had watched him grow up. Looking at them now with suspicious eyes went against the grain. Besides, he couldn’t help asking himself why someone would betray Waverly’s. The house had always been a good place to work. The company took care of the employees. Hell, there was even a day-care center on the fourth floor so that mothers didn’t have to worry about their children while they were at work.

Children.

An image popped into his mind. The framed photo on Charlie’s desk. That of a small boy, grinning up at the camera, displaying two impossibly tiny teeth. Unease washed through him as the board meeting went on around him.

For a brief moment, he wondered if he should be suspicious of Charlie.

Ordinarily, he wouldn’t even have to listen to the voices rising and falling in the room to know what they were saying. The only two female board members, Veronica Jameson and Edwina Burrows—grande dames of society, each well into her seventies—were extremely protective of Ann. Maybe it was the whole “woman power” thing, but those two were always Ann’s most vociferous supporters.

“I’m sure you’ll know best how to handle this, Ann,” Veronica said, her thin voice chirping like a hungry bird’s.

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“I’m sure you do,” Simon West carped in apparent frustration.

“I realize what a difficult situation this is,” Ann said, her voice briefly carrying over the rest. “But if we band together, I’m sure we’ll—”

“Band together? Against what? Some ephemeral danger? Or against you?” Simon, a shrunken, wizened man of about a hundred, slammed the tip of his cane against the tabletop to get everyone’s attention. Even Vance let go of his thoughts long enough to stare at the older man.

Simon had been at Waverly’s for as long as anyone could remember. There were some who insisted he was there at the dedication of the building 150 years ago. Vance smiled to himself at the thought.

Simon was furious and looked as if he were about to have a stroke. His eyes bugged out, his cheeks were splotches of red and spittle gathered at the corners of his mouth as he shouted, “Nothing like this happened before we allowed a woman to be in charge!”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Vance muttered. Sometimes the old guard was so old they forgot they were living in a shiny new world where women didn’t stay at home unless that’s where they wanted to be.

“That’s not helpful, Simon,” Ann muttered, and Vance had to give her points for patience. If it was him, he’d have grabbed the cane away and tossed it into the corner.

Then he rolled his eyes as Veronica and Edwina charged into the fray in defense of their CEO.

He glanced across the table at the empty chair. Vance’s uncle, Rutherford Waverly, should be sitting there. As the most senior member of the board, he should have been at every meeting. And right now, Vance would have liked to get his uncle’s take on all of this. But Rutherford had hated Waverly’s and everything about it ever since he and Vance’s father, Edward, had had a falling-out decades ago. Vance himself had hardly spoken to the other man in years.

But right now, he could have used a cooler head. An unbiased opinion.

“Whether or not we like what’s happening,” Ann declared, effectively silencing the last of the grumblers around the table by keeping her voice low and calm, forcing them to quiet down long enough to hear her. “The situation is here and we have to deal with it. If Dalton Rothschild is preparing for a takeover, all of us have to watching for any signs of treachery or betrayal. As much as I hate to say it, one of our people may be spying for the enemy.”

Once again, the image of his new assistant popped into his mind. What did he really know about her?

The fourth floor was part of Waverly’s and yet, so wildly different from the rest of the venerable auction house it could have been on another planet. Every other floor in the building was sedate, lovely, elegant.

Here, though, it was all primary colors and the scent of crayons and cookies and milk. The rest of the building was usually couched in what felt like a cathedral-like hush. But here, there was laughter, giggles that bubbled up to the high ceilings and fell back down like a rain of daisies.

Every time Charlie stepped onto this floor, she felt a wave of gratitude to Waverly’s for taking such good care of its employees. If she had to pay for day care on her own, she wouldn’t have been able to save enough money to move into the two-bedroom apartment where she and Jake now lived. Not to mention the fact that she would have spent every minute of every workday worried about her son’s safety and happiness. Was he being fed or played with or hugged when he fell down?

At Waverly’s she didn’t have to worry about any of that. This space was completely childproof and safe. The women hired to work here had been vetted by HR and licensed by the State of New York in child care and early childhood development. Each child here was cared for and looked after and the nominal fee she paid every month was more than worth it.

She walked past the room that was set up with tables and chairs and two computer stations where older kids would come in after school and do their homework while they waited for the workday to end. She peeked into the nap room, furnished with a half-dozen cribs and two comfy rocking chairs, then slipped past quietly to stand in the doorway of the toddler play area.

Here again, there were bright colors on the walls and murals of fairy gardens and rainbows to enchant the kids. There were baby walkers for the infants, stuffed animals and games for the toddlers. There were shelves filled with books for the older kids and dozens of play rugs and pillows covering the wood floor.

An excited squeal greeted her, and Charlie reacted instantly. With a rush of love swamping her, she hurried across the floor to pick up her son and cuddle him close. He smelled like shampoo and bananas. She smiled when his little arms came around her neck and he dug his face into the curve of her neck. “Mamamamamama …”

It thrilled her to hear the babble of sound that defined the essence of who she was now. The old Charlie had faded away the moment she’d learned she was pregnant. The woman who had had vague, hazy dreams of success and flashy cars and beautiful homes had become a mother. Her dreams now were filled with plans for her son. With ways to ensure his happiness. With hopes for the future she could provide for him.

As she held that warm little body close to her, she told herself that Jake would never wonder if he was wanted. Would never be afraid.

Pushing all else but her baby aside, she looked into the dark blue eyes he had inherited from the father he’d never known. “Are you being a good boy?”

Jake grinned and her heart melted.

“He’s a terrific boy and you know it,” Linda Morrow said, coming up behind her. “Sweetest baby ever.”

“I think so,” Charlie agreed and gave Jake a quick kiss before setting him down on the rug again. When he screwed up his face to cry, she handed him a ball and he laughed in response. Nothing upset Jake for long.

“I was downstairs checking out the salesroom for Saturday’s auction and couldn’t resist stopping by to see him.”

“Oh, I get it,” Linda said, her gaze constantly shifting to take in the ten or so children scattered around the room and the other two women in charge of them. “That’s the beauty of working at a place like this. Being able to see your child during the day, reassure yourself …”

“Am I that obvious?”

“All good moms are,” Linda told her with a wink. “You know your baby’s safe here, but your heart insists on seeing for yourself once in a while.”

“Wish it was more often,” she said wistfully as she watched Jake crawl in a mad rush toward a giant, purple, plush teddy bear. In a perfect world, she’d be a stay-at-home mom with a dozen kids. She’d always wanted a big family. But since she had to work, she was grateful that she’d found a job doing something that she loved. Being part of something as fast-paced and exciting as the world of high-end auctions was a dream come true. Except for the not having enough time for her son thing.

“Jake took a step this morning all on his own.”

“He did?” Charlie’s heart gave a sharp, painful twist. She hadn’t been there to see that first step. She’d missed it and that memory was now Linda’s. The sting of that knowledge cut deep, but she quickly reassured herself that stolen moments didn’t make up a lifetime and that she would have years of memories of Jake’s “firsts” to take out and relive again when she was a doddering old woman.

“It was only the one step,” Linda was saying, “then he got this incredibly surprised look on his face and dropped like a stone.” She smiled. “But he’s getting it, and pretty soon he’ll be running everywhere.”

“He will, won’t he? God, it’s all going by so fast.”

Charlie watched her son go up on his knees, lift his arms, then fall forward onto the stuffed teddy bear with a wild giggle. His first step, then running. Then he’d be in school and then graduating and then college and marriage and a family and—Charlie laughed at her own thoughts. He was barely thirteen months old and she had him practically retired.

Plenty of time to build memories, she told herself. “I’ve got to get back to work,” she said and reluctantly turned for the door. She stopped, though, and asked, “Did he eat the watermelon chunks I sent with him today?”

“No, but he scarfed down the banana,” Linda told her.

One thing wasn’t changing. Jake would eat nothing but bananas if given half a chance.

“Okay, then.” She looked at her son one more time, as if to remind herself just what she was working for, then left the playroom behind.

Back at her desk, Charlie got caught up on Vance’s mail, the requests for authentication from the fine arts division and the incoming provenances on the next auction to be held, the Ming Dynasty porcelain.

She skimmed each one on her computer screen before sending them to the printer. It was fascinating to read about artists who had lived and died centuries ago. Who had created such beautiful, fragile things that had survived through the years.

What must it have been like to create such a long-lasting legacy? Had they expected their art to survive all this time? Or had they thought only of making a vase worthy enough of purchase so they could feed their families? No one would ever know, but Charlie loved imagining the lives of those long-dead artists and wondered what they’d make of seeing their treasures here, in a modern auction house.

While the laser printer hummed along, a ding sounded, alerting Charlie to an incoming email. She switched over to the mail program, clicked on the header INFORMATION REQUIRED and then froze.

Her gaze locked on the screen, her heart stopped. Breath was trapped in her lungs.

And fear rose up to take a bite out of her soul.

Four

Vance left the boardroom, still considering everything Ann had said. He wanted to believe that there was nothing between her and Dalton Rothschild. He also wanted to believe that there was no hostile takeover in the works. The thought of any of Waverly’s employees secretly working for the enemy was a hard one to take.

But worse was the thought that had been circling in his mind like some twisted tornado. No matter how he tried to dislodge the thoughts, they kept coming back.

If he was going to suspect an employee of betraying the house, then he had to take a good, hard look at Charlotte Potter. Relatively new to the company. New to the position of his assistant, which would give her access to all kinds of sensitive information about Waverly’s.

He stalked down the long hallway toward his office and the scowl on his face was fierce enough to have others scatter with one look at him. A path was cleared for him and Vance barely noticed. His mind was racing. Was Charlie a spy? Or was she as innocent as she looked?

Vance stopped dead and paid no attention to the people forced to walk around him. If there was something going on here, he had to find out what it was.

Charlie’s gaze locked on the few simple lines of type.

I know who you really are. Forward to this address all of V. Waverly’s files for the last five years of business or risk facing charges of being an unfit mother.

“Unfit?” Her stomach churning, Charlie lifted one hand to her mouth as the tidy little world she’d built around herself crumbled.

Fear was roaring inside her and it was hard to breathe. She wasn’t an unfit mother. She loved her son and she would fight anyone who said differently. But while her fear and fury pumped hot through her veins, a voice in her mind whispered, The past is there, Charlie. You can’t change it. Can’t hide it. If someone finds out …

“Someone has. But who?” She heard the icy dread in her voice as chills snaked along her spine. This couldn’t be happening. It just wasn’t possible. No one in New York knew anything about her—where she’d grown up, who her family was. Except for …

Realization dropped on her like rocks rolling down the side of a mountain. All thunder and fury, crashing into her system and leaving her shaken, as she realized that the only person who knew about her past was Jake’s father. A man she hadn’t seen since she’d told him she was pregnant.

A man, she had found out when she’d started looking for him, who didn’t even exist.

God, she’d been such an idiot. So young and stupid and trusting. Fresh off the bus from a small town upstate, she’d taken her entry-level job at Waverly’s and felt … sophisticated. She had been a walking cliché. Young woman arrives in big city, doesn’t know anyone. Gets overwhelmed by the possibilities of a world far wider than she’d ever known before.

She found a tiny apartment in Queens. Rode the subway every day into Manhattan. She had felt like part of the bustling, exciting city and, looking back, she could see what easy prey she had been for the man who had romanced her.

In a blink, she saw it all again. Felt the rush when she’d dropped her phone and a tall, handsome man had picked it up for her. She’d taken one look into those smiling brown eyes and had lost every ounce of common sense her grandmother had spent years instilling in her.

“He hadn’t even had to work that hard,” she whispered, ashamed to admit even now how susceptible she had been to the flattery. To the attention.

He had swept her off her feet, and in a few short weeks had her in his bed and convinced that it was true love. Charlie had had stars in her eyes, thinking that an important architect like Blaine Andersen wanted to be with no one but her. He’d told her that it was his great-grandfather who had designed the Waverly building. He’d been doting and kind—stopping by her office to bring her flowers and candy—helping her find her BlackBerry both times she had lost it. He was the fairytale prince and Charlie had believed in him.

Until she’d told him she was pregnant and he’d disappeared. Until she’d tried to find him and discovered that there was no Blaine Andersen. That the Andersen who had long ago designed the Waverly building had never had children. That she had swallowed a tangle of lies in her pathetic need to be loved. Accepted.

All those thoughts and more raced through her mind in seconds, leaving her shaken, but still furious. This had to be Blaine. He was the only one she’d told about her past. The only one she’d trusted with that information.

“Well, he’s not going to make a fool of me twice,” Charlie muttered and set her fingers on the keyboard.

Hitting Reply, she typed in, Who are you?

The answer came in an instant. Doesn’t matter. I know you. And I will see you lose your baby.

Fresh fear erupted. Just seeing those words on the screen twisted her heart and sent what felt like a lead ball dropping into the pit of her stomach. Whoever it was had included a link in the email. Dreading what she was going to find, she clicked on it.

An old newspaper article flashed onto the screen. A story about her father and how he’d died. Quickly, she shut it all down, as if afraid that article might somehow etch itself onto her computer screen and remain there like a stain for anyone to read.

Clenching her hands together, she squeezed until her knuckles went white. She didn’t know what to do. If she had to go to court and fight for her son, she would lose. She knew that. Charlie didn’t have the kind of money it would take to hire a shark of a lawyer. Besides, what could she say? She couldn’t even name Jake’s father. She had no idea what the guy’s real name was. And if the court looked into her past—where she was from, who her family was …

“Oh, God.”

“Problem?”

She jumped and spun around. Vance Waverly was standing in the doorway. Did she look as guilty as she felt? Could he see the panic in her eyes? How long had he been there? What had he seen? What had he heard?

He took a step into the room and he seemed to fill the space. The man was so tall, so broad-shouldered, and his eyes were sharp enough to see inside a woman’s soul. She hoped to heaven he wasn’t looking that deeply at the moment.

“No,” she blurted out when she could find her voice again. “No problem.”

The lie came easily, though it tasted bitter. She didn’t want to lie to him. She didn’t want to live a life where lying was necessary. But what choice did she have?

“Good,” he said, still watching her. “Do you have the paperwork on the Ming vases ready?”

“Yes, I’ll bring it right in.”

“You’re sure everything is fine?” He was studying her and his brown eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

Get a grip, Charlie. She couldn’t let him know how shaken she was. Or that someone, somewhere, was trying to blackmail her. She couldn’t risk anyone finding out anything about her—at least, not until she’d found a way out of this mess. She’d think of something. All she needed was time. Just a little bit of time.

Charlie took a short, sharp breath and nodded. “Absolutely. I’ll just get those papers for you.”

When he walked into his office, her bravado dropped away. What was she going to do? If she sent the files to whoever was threatening her, she could lose her job. If she didn’t send them, she could lose her son. But if she sent the files and got caught, she’d go to jail and lose her son anyway.

Tears burned at the backs of her eyes, but she fought them back. She wouldn’t cry. She wasn’t the naive young thing she had been when Jake’s father had conned her. She was older. Wiser. She’d been burned and learned her lesson. And now she wasn’t just protecting herself. She was a mother. And no one was going to take her son from her.

No one.

For the next few days, Vance kept an eye on his new assistant. Granted, he didn’t know her well, but even he could see the change in her. She was jumpy. Nervous. She opened her email as if she were half expecting the computer to explode.

“Something’s going on with her,” he said.

“So,” Roark urged him, “find out what it is.”

“What a great idea. Wonder why I didn’t think of that?”

Oblivious to the sarcasm, Roark shrugged. He shifted his gaze to pedestrians rushing up and down Fifth Avenue. Summer was here and the sun was making sure everyone knew it. The sky was clear blue, the heat was blistering and the biggest sellers from the street cart vendors were icy bottles of water.

Under a wide umbrella, Vance still felt the heat. His suit coat was stifling, but he’d insisted on eating at the sidewalk café so he and his brother could talk without risk of being overheard. The cacophony of sound outside provided enough white noise that no one would be able to listen in on their conversation.

“Just yesterday, I walked into my office and Charlie was at my desk. When I came into the room, she was so startled she looked ready to faint.”

Roark grinned. “Doesn’t necessarily mean anything. You can be a scary guy.”

Vance frowned. He wasn’t scary. Was he? Now that he thought about it, most people did tend to scuttle out of his way when he walked through a room. Was that it? Was Charlie just nervous being around him?

He shook his head. “No, that’s not it. She didn’t look scared. She looked guilty.”

Blowing out a breath, Roark turned to his brother, pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head and said, “If you really want to know what’s going on, romance it out of her.”

“What?”

“A little dinner. A little dancing. A little wine …” He shrugged again. “Fastest way to get to the bottom of it.”

“And unethical,” Vance retorted.

“So’s spying on your employer.”

Vance shook his head. “I can’t date my assistant.”

“No rules against it.”

“There are sexual harassment lawsuits.”

Roark laughed. “I didn’t say sleep with her.”

No, but that’s exactly where Vance’s mind had gone with absolutely no help. He’d been thinking about Charlie Potter for days and it wasn’t all about suspicion.

That hair of hers had become something of a fixation for him. He wanted to push his fingers through that long, thick mass of blond waves and feel the cool slide of it against his skin. And then there was the scent of her—something light and floral that seemed to cling to the air in the office even when she wasn’t in the room. The sound of her voice, the way her legs looked in those mile-high heels she wore … Yeah, she was on his mind way too much lately.

Shutting the mental door on those images, he said, “And if I find out she is guilty?”

“Then you fire her. Or,” Roark mused, “use her to give disinformation to Rothschild.”

“Use her and lose her—that’s what you’re saying?” Roark hadn’t even been raised as a Waverly and he had their sensibilities. Maybe it was in the blood. Hell, their own father—after recovering from the loss of his wife and daughter—had gone through women so quickly, there had practically been a revolving door on the Waverly house.

Vance had grown up in a love vacuum. His father had never again risked his heart and Vance had learned to do this same. Roark had been raised by a single mother, so maybe he hadn’t seen any evidence of love, either. Which just gave the brothers even more in common, Vance thought.

“Look,” Roark said, “if she’s guilty, you don’t owe her anything. If she’s innocent, you don’t have to do a damn thing. It’s a win-win.”

“I’ll think about it.” As if he’d been thinking about anything else lately anyway.

“Good. Let me know how it goes.” Roark put his sunglasses back on and dragged his brown leather jacket off the back of the seat. Pulling it on, he added, “I’m out of here in the morning. Got a flight to Dubai tonight and still have a few things to do before I go.”

“Dubai?” Vance smiled. His younger half brother was a master at turning up valuable items to sell at Waverly’s auctions. The downside? He was hardly ever in New York. He’d been around the globe so many times, he was on his third passport—he just kept filling them up with stamps.

“Yeah,” Roark said with a quick grin. “Got a lead on something amazing. I pull this off and Rothschild’s is out of luck. We’ll be so far on top, they’ll never be able to touch us.”

“What is it?” Intrigued, Vance looked at him and waited.

“A surprise,” Roark said. “It’ll be worth the wait. Trust me.”

He did. Funny, though they hadn’t grown up together, Vance felt closer to Roark than to anyone else he’d ever known. He looked at Roark and saw the family resemblance and wished to hell their father had told him about Roark years earlier. And wished Edward Waverly had sought out his second son himself before he’d died.

Roark was raised by a single mother who had refused to name his father. By the time Vance had found him and told him exactly who he was, Roark was his own man and unwilling to accept the truth as easily as Vance had. He wanted proof and who could blame him, really? But all Vance had was a note, written by their late father, and for Roark, that simply wasn’t enough.

Still, they were building a relationship and whether the younger man admitted it or not, they were family.

Vance threw down cash for the bill and walked out with his brother. Taxi horns blared, an ambulance wailed in the distance and the scent of cooking hot dogs drifted on a sullen breeze.

“Take care of yourself,” Vance said.

“Always do,” Roark assured him, then slapped Vance on the shoulder. “I’ll be back soon enough. And I’ve got the satellite phone on me all the time. If you need me, call.”

“Yeah. I will.” Vance watched Roark walk away until he was swallowed up by the crowds.

His brother, the rogue treasure hunter, was off on a quest. And Vance was about to start a quest of his own. Romancing the assistant. He frowned to himself as he joined a crowd of pedestrians to cross the street. He had a feeling that Roark’s job was going to be a hell of a lot less interesting than his own.

By that weekend, Charlie was at the end of her rope. She’d tied a knot and dug her fingernails in tight, but the rope was fraying and any second now she was going to—

“Lot 32,” the auctioneer called out.

She jumped, startled out of her thoughts. She’d had so much adrenaline shooting through her system this week she could probably fly to the moon and back on her own power.

Charlie took a breath, told herself to concentrate and carried a teak tray bearing a diamond-and-sapphire-studded tiara into the salesroom. Steering her thoughts away from the blackmailer now stalking her with daily, ever-more-threatening emails, she focused solely on the task at hand. She couldn’t afford to trip and fall and drop the tray, sending that tiara spiraling off to crash against a wall or something.

Oh, God. Just the thought of that made her stiffen up and slow her steps. The auctioneer turned to fix her with a glare as if to say, Get a move on, already.

She ignored him and stopped beside the podium, holding the tray at a slight angle that afforded the audience a nice view of the tiara.

Items too big or too fragile to be carried into the auction were displayed on a sixty-inch flat screen behind the auctioneer. But it was more traditional to carry lots like the tiara into the auction room so everyone could see the items up close.

Of course, the bidders had already had a chance to study the sale items. There had been a reception before the auction where the über-rich and celebrities could sip champagne and decide what they wanted to buy.

But as Charlie stood in front of the audience now, dressed in her tidy black suit, she felt everyone stir as if leaning in toward her for a better look at the tiara. And who could blame them? Under the lights, every single diamond sparkled like an individual star. The sapphires were so dark they looked almost black until the light hit them just right and they revealed a hue of blue so rich and deep it was like looking into the heart of the ocean.

Any other day, Charlie would be loving this. She would smile at the crowd as she walked down the center aisle so that people could take a closer look. She would move smoothly, slowly, proud to be a part of the Waverly’s tradition.

Today it was all she could do to remain upright.

She should have called in sick and skipped today’s auction. But she needed the extra money the overtime would bring her. And, more than that, she didn’t want her world disrupted. Didn’t want to be afraid, so she was pretending she wasn’t. Didn’t want to lose what she’d begun to build here, so she clung to that frayed and tired rope with everything she had.

“We’ll start the bidding at $35,000….”

The auctioneer went into his patter and Charlie zoned out again. She kept one corner of her mind on the task at hand, of course, walking to the front of the room once again and turning, holding the tray so that the lights caught the gems in just the right way.

But the other part of her mind was racing. Desperate to find a solution to her problem. Every day, she opened her email with fear and trepidation. And every day, her blackmailer was a little more curt. A little more dangerous. She hadn’t written back to him since that first day, hoping that he would think that she wasn’t getting his emails.

But even as she hoped and wished for it, she knew that wasn’t going to happen.

Whoever was emailing her wanted information and wasn’t going to go away until he or she got it. Which left Charlie exactly where?

Jail or out of a job? Losing her son?

Her heartbeat skittered in her chest and she felt a little faint. So she swallowed hard, locked her knees and held on. The bids came fast and furious. Red paddles lifted and lowered. Nods of the head. A wave of a hand. A cough. A phone ringing as anonymous bidders made their play for the stunning tiara. There was excitement, magic all around her, and Charlie didn’t feel any of it. Finally, beside her, the slam of the gavel made her jump.

“Sold for $75,000.”

That was Charlie’s signal to return the tiara to the holding room where its new owner would pick it up after the sale.

Justin took the tiara from her as soon as she returned.

“Thanks, sweetie. You’ve got time to sit down or something. I’ll need you again to take in lots 41 and 46.”

She forced a smile. “I’ll be here.”

“Hey.” Justin frowned at her. “You okay?”

God, was she that easy to read? How could she ever be a spy and sneak something out from under Vance Waverly’s nose if Justin—a man who barely looked up from the treasures he was in charge of—noticed right away that she wasn’t herself?

“I’m fine. Just a little hungry, I guess. Haven’t really eaten in a while. Didn’t have breakfast.”

“Well, go get something, honey.” He gave her an absent-minded pat on the arm. “We’ve got snacks set up for everyone in the break room.”

“Okay, I will.”

But Justin had already moved on. “Sam, put red velvet under the onyx rings. If you use black, who’s gonna see them?”

While the rest of the auction team bustled around in an organized manner, Charlie slipped off for some quiet. Some time to herself so she could think.

Trouble was, she’d been “thinking” for days about this problem and didn’t have a solution. Couldn’t figure out how to handle it. Didn’t know who to talk to about it, because no one here knew who she had been before coming to Manhattan. And that was how she wanted it to stay.

Charlie dropped into a chair beside the table loaded with sandwiches, cookies and cupcakes and idly picked up a snickerdoodle. She broke a corner of the cinnamon cookie off, popped it into her mouth and chewed—even though it tasted like sawdust.

Upstairs, Jake was playing in the day-care center. Her little boy was safe and happy. She had to keep him that way. But to do that, she would have to steal information from the people who trusted her to do her job. She was torn in two.

“Nothing’s that bad,” a deep voice said from the doorway.

She turned her head to see Vance Waverly standing there watching her. Her stomach did a quick pitch and roll and a hum of something hot and delicious swept through her. In the business suits he usually wore, Vance was too hot for words. Today, though, he was wearing black jeans, a white long-sleeved shirt and black boots, scuffed from long use. He looked not only hot … but dangerous. And so sexy her mouth went dry and she choked on the rest of the snickerdoodle.

Coughing, gasping, she thumped her chest with the flat of her hand as her eyes watered and she fought for air.

He came over, handed her a bottle of water and waited while she took a sip and the coughing eased off. Finally, when she was quiet, he smiled. And oh, that smile was absolutely devastating. Probably a good thing he didn’t do it often. No woman would be immune to a smile from Vance Waverly.

“Don’t think I’ve ever caused a woman to choke to death before.”

She frowned at herself. “You surprised me.”

“Clearly.” He tipped his head to one side. “You okay now?”

“Yeah.” She held the bottle of water in both hands. “Fine.”

“Good.” He pulled out a chair and sat down beside her. Propping one booted foot on a knee, he leaned back to study her. “So what has you so jumpy?”

“Nothing,” she lied, and looked into his brown eyes with their irresistible gold flecks. He had beautiful eyes, with long lashes and a steady stare that seemed to be peeling her open, layer by layer. Well, that wasn’t a happy thought. “I’m just tired. My son didn’t sleep well last night, which means that neither of us does.”

“Couldn’t your husband help take care of him?”

She flushed. “I’m not married. It’s just Jake and me.”

“Must be hard.”

“I won’t argue with that, but I wouldn’t change anything if I could, either.” In fact, she couldn’t imagine a world without Jake in it.

“Lucky boy,” he mused, still watching her.

“So, what are you doing here?”

“I work here,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting.

Brilliant, Charlie. Just brilliant. “Yes, but you usually don’t come to the auctions.”

He shrugged. “I wanted to see you.”

“You see me every day.” Nerves plucked at her insides and Charlie fought to keep from showing them.

“Yeah, but this way’s different,” he said. “We’re not in the office. We’re more like … friends.”

She laughed and took a sip of her water. “Friends?”

“Something wrong with that?”

Oh, if he only knew. They weren’t friends. Friends didn’t make friends feel all hot and flustered and nervous. Friends didn’t inspire dreams that had her waking up in the middle of the night, reaching out for him. And friends most certainly didn’t spy on each other or have the power to fire each other for that matter.

“I guess not,” she said because she could hardly repeat everything that had just raced through her mind.

“Good. Because I’d like to take my ‘friend’ out to dinner tonight.”

“What?”

Five

Vance had never been big on surprises.

They usually didn’t work well for either the surpriser or the surprisee. He liked knowing what was coming, how he would handle it and exactly how any given situation would play out.

His brother, Roark, was the exact opposite. Roark lived his life on the road, on the edge. He had a place to stay in town, but was hardly ever there. He didn’t like plans and lived for the rush of the new.

Vance couldn’t imagine living like that. More than one woman in his life had suggested that he “loosen up.” Let go of his schedule long enough to enjoy himself more. But he enjoyed himself plenty and his relentlessly-adhered-to agenda kept everything straight.

So no one was more astonished than he when he blurted out that invitation to dinner. Although, judging by the expression on Charlie’s face, she was running a close second in the shock department.

He’d come here today not only to support Waverly’s, but to keep an eye on Charlie. See what she did, who she talked to. He hadn’t actually planned to ask her to dinner. Vance was well aware that having any kind of relationship with his assistant was problematic at best and a disaster in the making at worst.

But everything Roark had said kept resonating with him. Getting to know Charlie outside the office was one sure way to dig deeper. To find out all he could about her and discover if she was a spy or as innocent as she seemed.

“Dinner?” Her voice rose. “With you?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, with Justin.”

She laughed a little. “I don’t think Justin’s wife would appreciate that.”

“I don’t have a wife to care …” His gaze dropped to her left hand and the absence of a ring. “And you’re not married, either, so what’s the problem?”

She curled her fingers into her palms and folded her hands on her lap. “You’re my boss.”

“So if I say it’s okay, it should be.”

“I don’t know,” she said, gaze shifting as if to make sure they were still alone in the break room.

“It’s just dinner, Charlie,” he said, not even sure why he was trying so hard to convince her. Maybe it was simply because he wasn’t used to women turning him down. He was more accustomed to women flinging themselves at him. Charlotte Potter was different. “You have to eat.”

She blew out a breath, unfolded her hands and tapped one finger nervously against the tabletop. “I appreciate it, but I’ve got Jake upstairs in day care and—”

“We can take him with us.” He could hardly believe he’d said that. Spending time with a baby hadn’t been part of the plan. Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even seen a baby. But he’d sensed a refusal coming and damn if he was going to give up that easily. He could deal. How hard could it be?

She laughed shortly. “You want to have dinner with a baby in tow? You?”

Just a second ago, he’d been doubting his own sanity for the same reason, but somehow hearing her laugh at the very idea was insulting. “I haven’t eaten a child in at least a decade,” he said solemnly. “I think your son will be safe.”

A smile was still curving the corners of her mouth. “He will, but will you survive?”

“It’s dinner, Charlie. I think I can handle it.”

“Mr. Waverly …”

“Vance,” he corrected.

She looked horrified, and Vance felt a rush of irritation.

“I don’t think I can call you that.”

He scowled at her. She wasn’t making this easy. He’d never had to work this hard to get a woman to spend time with him in his life. He had fully expected her to accept his invitation with a pleased smile and a gracious thank-you. Should have known, he told himself, that Charlie Potter wouldn’t do the expected.

“I’m the boss,” he reminded her again, “so if I say you can, it’s okay.”

“All right then, Vance.” She shook her head a little as if to dispel the weirdness of the moment. “As I said, I do appreciate it, but I just can’t imagine you spending time with a baby.”

Irritation sparked inside him. He wasn’t a damn monster. So what if he was never around children? What difference did that make? Millions of people dealt with babies every day. Besides, he was Vance Waverly. There was nothing he couldn’t handle. “Rumor has it, I was actually a child once myself.”

“Do they make suits that small?”

He cocked his head and studied her. “Are you teasing me?”

“A little bit,” she admitted.

Vance couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. More surprising was the fact that he was sort of enjoying himself. Something else he hadn’t planned on.

“That’s fine.” His gaze locked with hers, he said softly, “I can take it.”

“Mr. Waverly—Vance,” she corrected herself before he could. “I don’t know what’s going on, but …”

She was going to turn him down and, dammit, he wasn’t going to let her. He told himself he was doing this for Waverly’s, but the truth was more complicated than that. And he didn’t want to examine that any further.

Leaning forward, he braced his forearms on his knees and looked into her eyes. “Charlie, it’s just dinner. When you’re finished here, we’ll get your son and go get something to eat.”

Narrowing her eyes on him, she said, “That sounds a lot like an order.”

“Does it have to be?”

She thought about that for a moment, then nodded. “It might make it easier on me.”

He blew out a breath and fought down a fresh stirring of irritation. “I’m only talking about dinner, for God’s sake, not taking you to Bali for a sex-filled weekend—”

That thought stopped him cold then heated him up as his mind filled with some truly amazing images. Charlie naked, her skin glowing in the moonlight, her long, blond hair spread across a pillow. Her eyes looking up at him, her arms—He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and realized that she was speaking.

“Uh,” she said, nervously, “okay then. Dinner. Sure. Um, it’ll be an hour at least before I can leave, though.”

“Fine,” he muttered, wondering where in the hell those thoughts and images had come from. And he couldn’t help wondering if the same kind of imagery had filled her mind, too.

“Charlie!” Justin’s voice came from the other room. “I need you in here!”

“Coming.” She sounded grateful as she answered Justin and that told Vance all he needed to know. Her mind had taken the same kind of imaginative trip his had. It seemed she was recovering a lot quicker than Vance, though.

She jumped to her feet and looked down at him. “Are you going out to watch the auction?”

Gritting his teeth against the pain in his groin, he said tightly, “Yeah. I’ll be out there in a minute. You go ahead.”

She looked at him oddly, but shrugged. “I’ll see you later.”

“Vance,” he prompted.

“Vance,” she said softly.

Nodding, he watched her go, his gaze dropping to the curve of her behind in the narrow black skirt she was wearing. And then farther down to those black heels that made her legs look so long and slender and—

Stop watching her or you’ll never be able to get out of here, he told himself and turned to reach for a damn cupcake.

The auction picked up speed as some of the more fabulous pieces were brought out. On any other day, Charlie would have been enjoying herself immensely. But how could she keep her mind on business when she had a threat hanging over her head? Worry was constantly plucking at the edges of her mind.

But if she was going to be honest with herself, not even her would-be blackmailer had her as rattled as Vance Waverly did. Sex-filled weekend in Bali?

As soon as he’d blurted out those words in a flash of frustration, her mind had taken her on the quickest imaginary trip in the history of the world. Instantly, she’d seen the two of them—Vance and her—on a beach, beneath the moon, leaning into each other. His arms came around her and his hands on her naked skin were as hot as the passion burning in his eyes.

In one split second, she had gone from thinking of Vance Waverly as boss to imagining him as lover. What had stunned her was just how easy that shift in thinking had been. She had absolutely no trouble at all imagining him in her bed and that meant she was in some seriously deep water.

Her heart kicked hard in her chest and her mouth was dry, just remembering the flash of something hot and dangerous that shone in his eyes so briefly as their gazes met.

What was she supposed to be feeling? How was she supposed to act? And why was he being so nice all of a sudden? So … interested in her?

Taking her and Jake to dinner? Most men ran for the hills the moment they found out a woman was a single mother. And Vance—how weird and yet exciting was it to think of him as Vance—didn’t strike her as the kind of man who was fond of children, either. So why?

“Sold for $47,000,” the auctioneer intoned and Charlie gratefully came up out of her confusing thoughts. She was up next and she needed to keep her mind on what she was doing.

She looked down at the porcelain display stand that held the necklace Justin had shown her earlier in the week. The porcelain resembled a woman’s neck, showcasing the necklace far better than having it lie flat on a bed of velvet ever could. Charlie hated having to carry the necklace into the room because she was terrified of dropping it. But she slapped a smile on her face and stepped out into the salesroom.

“Now, we have the last item up for bid and by far the star of this collection. The queen of Cadria’s diamond-and-ruby necklace. As you can see,” the auctioneer said, “the detail is astonishing.”

A close-up picture of the necklace was displayed on the wide flat screen behind the podium and a sigh of appreciation rose up from the women in the room.

Charlie could understand that sentiment completely. The jewels themselves were beautiful, even though Justin had pointed out that the antique cuts of the diamonds and rubies actually lowered the price. Which made no sense to her at all, but since she wasn’t going to be buying it …

As she walked down the center aisle, the auctioneer said, “This magnificent necklace was a wedding present to the former queen of Cadria. Legend promises a happy marriage to the woman who wears this beauty. Please check your programs for the total carat weight. Bidding starts at $150,000.”

Charlie staggered a little at that, but caught herself quickly. Cradling the display stand even more carefully, she continued down the center aisle, pausing occasionally to allow the attendees to get a better look. In the last row, she spotted Vance, sitting alone, his gaze locked, not on the necklace, but on her.

Instantly, she remembered that imaginary beach in Bali and the feel of his hands on her and everything inside Charlie quickened. Her heartbeat jumped into a gallop and something delicious stirred inside her. She wasn’t used to men looking at her with such … hunger. But it was unmistakable and Charlie told herself that going to dinner with Vance might just be opening a door that would be better left closed.

The heat in his eyes raised her temperature enough that she felt warm all over and she knew that whether it was a smart move or not, she would be opening that door. His eyes burned and his features were cool and dispassionate as he met her gaze. No one looking at him would have guessed what he was thinking, but Charlie knew.

She gave him a small smile that wasn’t returned before she headed up the center aisle to take her place beside the podium. The bidding was fierce, but she had zoned out, so she really didn’t notice much more than the flash of an upraised paddle or the wave of a hand.

She didn’t hear a thing, beyond the buzzing in her own ears and the pounding thrum of her own heart. How had her life taken such a gigantic turn in the space of a week or so? Not only was she being blackmailed, but she was having seriously erotic daydreams about a man who had terrified her just a few days ago.

Maybe she was having a breakdown. That would explain a lot.

Drawing her mind away from thoughts that were churning too fast to be examined, she looked down at the necklace and found herself hoping that it went to someone who would appreciate it for its beauty not just for the investment it represented. Something that beautiful deserved to be worn. Touched.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen,” the auctioneer announced. “This concludes our auction today and Waverly’s would like to extend our thanks for your patronage. There is a champagne reception in the main salon, should you care to linger. And to those of you fortunate enough to have won the pieces you wanted, we will conclude our business in the anteroom. Thank you all again.”

A sedate round of applause broke out and Charlie came up from her thoughts to realize that her mind had been so busy, she hadn’t even heard the winning bid. Turning for the anteroom, she carefully carried the necklace back inside.

Her turn as a would-be Cinderella was over and it was time to let go of the royal jewels and go back to her pumpkin-filled life.

“That was amazing,” Justin cooed as she handed him the queen’s necklace.

The whole day had been amazing as far as Charlie was concerned. “What was the final selling price?”

“You didn’t hear?”

She shook her head. “I must have zoned out.”

Justin just stared at her as if he couldn’t understand how anyone could not pay attention to something as important as diamonds and rubies. “The final came in as a phone bid.” He paused to frown. “I hate phone bids. I like to know who bought one of our pieces.”

Charlie smiled, because Justin really was very proprietary when it came to the jewels in his care.

“Anyway,” he said airily, “the necklace finally went for three seventy-five.”

Charlie blinked at him in astonishment. “Three hundred seventy-five thousand dollars?”

Justin’s eyebrows wiggled and his squinty eyes sparkled with glee. “I said it was an amazing piece, didn’t I?”

She looked down at the necklace, with its antique jewels shining up at her, and took a long, slow breath. “I’m so glad I didn’t hear that when I was still holding it.”

“Thanks for your help tonight, hon.” Justin set the porcelain stand down onto the pedestal waiting for it.

Whoever the lucky bidder was would be paying for the necklace right now. Then it would be wrapped up to be sent from Waverly’s. She didn’t even want to imagine how someone would get such an expensive item safely home. Did you hire armed guards? But that was so not her problem.

“You know I love working the auctions, Justin.” She checked her wristwatch. “I’d better get moving, though. Still have to pick up Jake.”

“Sure, sure.”

“You ready?”

Vance’s deep voice sounded out from the doorway behind her and Charlie felt a small, involuntary sizzle of reaction shoot through her veins. She so didn’t want to feel that. Had no business sizzling over her boss. Yet, somehow, her body wasn’t getting that message.

“Yes,” she said, turning to face him.

“Ready for what?” Justin asked in a suspiciously innocent tone.

Oh, damn. Charlie loved Justin, she really did, but the man wouldn’t know how to keep a secret if someone stapled his lips shut. Surely Vance knew that. So why had he spoken up unless he didn’t care if people knew they were going to dinner? And if he didn’t care, was this more of a business thing than a date? But if it was a business thing, would she be calling him Vance? Would he have really said that about sex and Bali?

And why couldn’t she stop thinking about it?

Vance didn’t say anything and Justin was waiting, shifting his far-too-interested gaze back and forth between the two of them.

Finally, Charlie said, “Vance—I mean Mr. Waverly—is giving Jake and I a ride home.”

“Hmmm …”

“First to dinner, then a ride home,” Vance clarified.

Charlie groaned inwardly.

“I see,” Justin said, his eyes shining so brightly now it was a wonder they weren’t giving off actual sparks. “Well, then, don’t let me hold you up any longer.”

When the older man winked at her, Charlie sighed. Damage done. Justin’s romantic heart and love of gossip would take care of alerting the building to whatever was or wasn’t going on between her and Vance.

She picked up her purse from a nearby chair and slipped the strap over her shoulder. Looking up at her boss, she said, “We might as well go.”

As soon as they were out of earshot, Charlie glanced at Vance. “You do realize that by tomorrow, everyone at Waverly’s will know that we went to dinner together.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve known Justin a long time.”

“So why did you say anything in front of him?”

“You wanted to keep our dinner date a secret?”

“Not a secret,” she countered as they stepped into the elevator for the short trip to the fourth-floor day-care center. “But—”

One eyebrow lifted. “Is there a problem?”

“Shouldn’t there be?” she asked, unsure what she should be thinking now. He was her boss, and now her date. He didn’t seem to care who knew, but she felt odd about the whole situation. He was making her feel things she didn’t want yet certainly enjoyed. Then there was the fact that his family had founded Waverly’s and now there was a blackmailer trying to make her betray not only him but the auction house she loved.

Could her life get any more complicated?

“I think,” Vance said, taking her hand in his, “you’re thinking too much.”

Her palm to his, heat swamped her. When he drew her out of the elevator and led her down the hall to where Jake waited, Charlie knew she was in really big trouble.

The worst part?

She didn’t care.

Vance was in hell.

He could tell because of the screaming.

When he had invited Charlie out to dinner, he’d had in mind a nice steak place. Not too elegant, not too casual. Just a nice in-between, with good service and a quiet atmosphere so they could talk. So he could try to discover if she was an enemy or not.

He had not planned on a zoo-themed diner where children outnumbered adults and the specialty of the house was macaroni and cheese.

“You look uncomfortable.”

“What?” He shouted to be heard over the screaming three-year-old in the booth behind him.

“I said, you look like you’re miserable and wishing that you were anywhere but here.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Okay, I just thought most of that, but you do look miserable.”

She didn’t, Vance noticed. Her son was in a high chair pulled up to their table. Vance didn’t know much about babies—happily—but this one seemed good-looking and far better behaved than the little tyrants running all over the restaurant.

“It’s just a little loud.”

“Is it?” She shrugged and shredded a piece of chicken onto her son’s tray table. “I didn’t notice.”

“Really?” He leaned forward, and frowned when his elbow came down in a spill of soda. “I didn’t realize you were deaf.”

She laughed and something inside Vance fisted so tightly, he could hardly breathe. When she smiled, she was beautiful. When she laughed, she was incomparable. Her whole face lit up, her eyes shone and the laugh itself was not one of those quiet, restrained society titters; this was full-throated laughter that had him grinning in response.

“I’m so sorry, Vance. This is just killing you, isn’t it?”

Suddenly, it didn’t seem so bad after all. “Doesn’t bother me a bit.”

“Other than making you wear the expression of a man who would like to chew off his own foot to escape.”

He frowned. “That’s not what I’m feeling.”

“Then you should smile to reassure me.”

He did and she said, “You really should do that more often. You’re far less intimidating when you smile.”

“Maybe I like being intimidating.”

“Well, you are really good at it,” she said, then leaned over and kissed her son’s forehead. The little boy grinned and kicked his feet before grabbing a tiny fistful of shredded chicken.

Vance glanced around the diner—he refused to think of the place as a restaurant. The servers were dressed in animal-print uniforms, as zebras, lions, tigers. There were other employees over by the play area dressed in wild animal costumes and they were being besieged by an army of toddlers. Vance couldn’t even fathom a worse job.

But he was here with Charlie and she was happy and relaxed, so he decided to make the best of the situation. While she had her guard down, he would gather as much information as he could. And by the end of the night, he would know if she was an enemy—or a potential lover.

Six

Vance leaned in toward her so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice above a roar. “So what did you think of the auction?”

Her gaze snapped to his and excitement shone in her blue eyes. “It was wonderful. It is every time, but today, seeing the royal jewels? Knowing that I was touching something worn by a queen more than a hundred years ago? Wonderful, if terrifying.”

“Terrifying?”

“Did you hear what that necklace sold for?” She shook her head and laughed. “I was terrified I’d drop it or accidentally twist the gold wire or gouge out a stone or something….”

His mouth quirked. “A busy imagination.”

“Oh, incredibly busy. I’ll probably drive Jake crazy as he grows up. If he gets a cold, in my head it escalates in seconds to pneumonia, then an oxygen tent and my donating a lung or something.” She paused, took a breath and said wryly, “Now that you know I’m nuts, feel free to run.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not, are you?” She tipped her head to one side to look at him and a cascade of blond hair swung down by her shoulder like a slice of sunlight. “I wonder why.”

He wondered that, too. She wasn’t the kind of woman who usually drew him in and, yet, she fascinated him enough that he was willing to put up with complete bedlam just to sit across the table from her.

“Anyway,” she said, returning to his earlier question, “I love the auctions. Being part of the excitement, even in a small way.”

Vance nodded. “I understand that completely. My father took me to my first auction when I was ten. It was sports memorabilia. Baseball cards, Babe Ruth’s glove, Ted Williams’s favorite bat, that kind of thing.” She was smiling at him, silently encouraging him to go on.

So he did. “Even at ten, I felt that rush you were talking about. Seeing those things from the past getting a new shot at being appreciated …”

“Exactly.” Absentmindedly, she reached out and patted his hand in solidarity. “Like the jewelry today. Justin says the collection was most likely kept locked away in Cadria, in a vault or a crown jewels room—who knows? But today, the pieces were in the light again. Being admired. People were buying them so they could be worn again. Dazzle again.” She sighed.

“Liked the jewelry, did you?”

“What woman wouldn’t? Especially that necklace. But it wasn’t just the stones themselves, it was the romance of it. A wedding present from a king to his queen. The legend of happily-ever-after attached to it. The diamonds and rubies themselves were just part of the whole.” She shook her head, still awestruck. “Amazing.”

Behind Vance, the crazed three-year-old was shouting about cake and his parents were quietly telling him to use his inside voice. Vance wasn’t sure the kid had an inside voice and if he did, whether it would be heard in the cacophony of sound.

Keeping his voice as low as he could and still be heard, he leaned toward Charlie and caught her gaze with his.

“How’d you get interested in auctions? I mean, I was born into it. What’s your reason?”

The waitress showed up with two coffees and a small dish of fresh fruit. As Charlie cut the pieces of cantaloupe, watermelon and grapes into even tinier pieces for her son, she started talking.

“In college I went to a few auctions with friends.” She lifted her gaze to his. “Nothing like the ones we hold at Waverly’s, of course. These were more country auctions, selling crates of mystery goods or farm equipment, some furniture and antiques. But the feeling was the same, if you know what I mean. The sense of anticipation—people hoping to find something special. Maybe buying a painting for a dollar and discovering an old master under an ugly dog playing poker—”

He laughed.

Charlie shrugged and said, “It was everything. The auctioneer, the crowds, the bidding. I loved all of it. So when my grandmother died—”

“Your grandmother?”

She stopped and he read hesitation in her eyes as she bit at her bottom lip. He knew she hadn’t meant to say that and his curiosity was piqued.

“My grandmother raised me,” she said briefly then hurried on. “Anyway, when she died, I packed up and moved to New York. Two years ago, I got a job at Waverly’s. I started out in HR, but worked my way up, and now I work for the boss.”

He laughed. “One of the bosses, anyway.”

“Why did you take us to dinner?” Charlie asked suddenly. She smoothed wisps of light brown hair off her son’s forehead and said, “I can’t imagine you’ve been dying to have dinner with a bunch of screaming kids.” Her eyes widened as she looked past him. “Oops.”

Vance felt someone watching him and slowly turned his head to meet the three-year-old screamer’s big, dark eyes. The boy was hanging over the back of the bench seat, watching him intently. Vance stared right back at him. When the boy stuck out his tongue, Charlie laughed and Vance winced.

“Trevor!” the boy’s mother snapped, and dragged him back down to his seat. “Sorry,” she murmured.

Shaking his head, Vance turned back to Charlie. “Clearly the evil Boss Stare doesn’t work on kids,” he muttered, then looked into her eyes. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Would it be wrong to say yes?”

“Yes, it would.”

Soberly, she nodded. “Then no, I don’t like it at all. It’s absolutely terrible how you’re suffering.”

He gave her a rueful smile. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been teased. Usually people—women—were wary around him. They spoke softly and moved slowly, as if he were a live grenade about to go off. Not Charlie. And while he never wanted to see this diner again, he was actually having a good time.

Something he hadn’t expected. He’d only thought about how to get her talking. To spilling secrets, if she had any. But if she had those secrets, they were still her own. Which meant that he’d be spending more time with her.

A plan he didn’t have a problem with.

When her son rubbed at his eyes with tiny fists, Charlie said, “I have to get him home to bed.”

“It’s barely eight.”

Tipping her head to look at him, she said, “Babies go to bed earlier than we do.”

“Oh, right.” Idiot. He signaled the waitress for the bill and took care of it while Charlie cleaned up her son. Once they were ready, he stood up and Charlie lifted the little boy from the high chair.

Instantly, Jake held out both pudgy arms to Vance.

Vance stared at the boy for a long moment. The baby’s hair was practically standing on end. There was a food stain on his I love Mommy T-shirt. And his dark blue eyes were fixed on Vance as if he were Santa and the Easter Bunny rolled into one. He’d never been around babies much and hadn’t really missed the experience. Until tonight, Vance would have said he had zero interest in kids altogether.

But this baby seemed … different, somehow. Certainly quieter than the other kids in the diner. It was younger, softer and it had a dimple in its left cheek, just like its mother.

“Jake …” Charlie was clearly surprised by her son’s move and, frankly, so was Vance. But who was he to argue? He reached for the boy, tucked him against his chest and headed for the front door, Charlie trailing behind.

The baby laid his head down on Vance’s shoulder and, despite his best efforts, something inside Vance melted.

“I cannot believe I had to hear this from Justin! Did you lose your phone again?”

“No,” Charlie said, laughing. “I haven’t lost my phone in almost two years, thanks. And I was going to tell you but—”

“You were too busy dating your boss?”

Charlie had a feeling that Katie’s stunned expression was probably an echo of her own. Heck, she had lived through last night and she was still feeling the shock. After dinner the night before, Vance had hailed a cab to take Jake and her home. The surprise was when Vance had joined them for the trip.

Jake had fallen asleep on the way home, cuddled comfortably against Vance’s broad chest. Though she’d offered to take the baby from him, Vance had held the boy all the way to her apartment. And for a moment or two, Charlie had actually been envious of her son.

Being with Vance in the quiet of the cab had been … nice. They talked as the city whizzed past in a stream of subdued noise and neon color and when they were finally at the small apartment she called home, Vance had walked her to her door, handed Jake to her and said good-night.

“I can’t believe this,” Katie was saying in an awed, hushed tone. “You do know the whole building’s talking about this.”

“Thank you, Justin,” Charlie said on a sigh.

“Well, even if he hadn’t told, you never could have kept this a secret for long. You have to know that.”

“I suppose so.” She frowned and said, “I don’t think Vance even cares if people know.”

“Vance?” Katie repeated that one word in a dumbfounded tone. “You call him Vance?”

“‘Mr. Waverly’ seemed a little formal for a date.”

Her friend shook her head slowly. “A date. With your boss.”

“Are you getting past that anytime soon?”

“I don’t think so,” Katie admitted, then shifted on the stone bench to look at her. “Did he kiss you?”

Charlie’s mind slipped back to the night before. When her apartment door was open and the light from inside was slanted across Vance’s face as he looked down at her. There had been a sort of expectant hush hanging in the air between them. He bent down, she leaned in toward him and for one heart-stopping moment, she was just a breath away from being kissed. But then Jake woke up with a cry and the cab driver honked impatiently and the moment was gone. Probably for the best. She was sure that was a date Vance would never want repeated, so why indulge in any more fantasies?

“No.”

“Well, that sucks.” Frowning, the tiny redhead with bright green eyes grumbled, “And how did I miss all this excitement?”

Charlie shook her head and grinned at her friend. Katie lived in an apartment upstairs from her and most mornings they rode the subway into work together. In fact, it was Katie who had helped Charlie get the apartment in her building. “You weren’t home last night for me to tell and this morning you came in early, so we didn’t get a chance to talk on the train.”

“All true. Still. Dating your boss. It’s sort of sexy, unless,” she added with a shudder, “it’s my boss.”

“I think Vance was just being nice.”

“Uh-huh. He took you and Jake to dinner, then brought you all the way home to Queens just to be nice. Sure, I buy that.”

Frowning, Charlie took a sip of her iced tea and studied the faces of the people hurrying down Fifth Avenue. They often brought their lunch out here to sit and watch the city go by. It was hot, steamy and the lunchtime lines at the food carts were busy. Even in the summer heat, it was nice to get out of the building for a while and rejoin humanity.

Especially now, when Charlie was doing everything she could to avoid thinking about her blackmailer. She’d received another email threat just that morning and the message was burned into her brain.

No more stalling, it had said. Get those files or risk losing your son.

She was running out of time and was no closer to knowing what to do about it. She couldn’t steal files. And she couldn’t not steal them. Lose her job, lose her son. It was a vicious circle with no way of winning.

“Katie,” she said abruptly, turning her head to look at her friend, “have you heard anything about Rothschild’s lately?”

“Like what?”

“Anything.”

Katie shrugged. “A couple of people are talking about that article in the paper. You know, the bit about Ms. Richardson and Dalton Rothschild. Did they or didn’t they? But I mean, who cares? If they did, it’s not as if she would have handed him the keys to Waverly’s, you know?”

Charlie chewed at her bottom lip. “But it doesn’t look good.”

“True, but Ms. Richardson is devoted to Waverly’s. She wouldn’t put the auction house at risk.” A long pause. “Would she?”

The problem was, Charlie didn’t know. And neither did Vance apparently or he wouldn’t have asked her to listen for gossip at the house. She worried. It wasn’t a coincidence that the article had appeared in the paper the very same day she’d received that first threatening email. Whoever was behind her current trouble was no doubt also the source of that article.

What did that tell her? A lot of nothing, really.

“Hey,” Katie said, nudging Charlie with her shoulder. “Don’t take it so personally. These big companies are always having some kind of trouble. They’ll work it out.”

“You’re not worried?”

“The only thing I’m worried about is finishing the audit of last quarter’s books before my boss decides to have a stroke on my desk.”

Charlie smiled, but it was halfhearted. Thankfully, Katie didn’t seem to notice. She’d give anything to be as uninterested in what was happening as her friend apparently was.

“I’ve got to get back to work,” Katie said abruptly after a check of her phone for the time. “I’ll meet you for the subway ride home … unless you get a better offer.”

“Not much chance of that,” Charlie said. “I’ll see you later.”

She still had twenty minutes before she had to return to work and she was in no hurry to face her computer and the email program that had her so spooked. So she’d just finish her tea, and then stop by the day-care center to see Jake on her way back upstairs.

“Waiting for someone?” Vance’s voice came from behind her.

“Were you watching me?” she asked, turning to look up at him.

“Watching sounds so stalkerlike,” he said as he sat down on the stone bench beside her. He laid one arm along the back of the bench and stretched out his legs, crossing his feet at the ankles. “I prefer … admiring.”

Charlie shook her head. She’d seen so many different sides of Vance in the last week or so, she could hardly keep them all straight. He was ruthless in business, didn’t tolerate stupidity in the workplace and was gentle with her son. He laughed when she teased him and gave her looks that set fire to her insides. Now he was sprawled on a stone bench in the hot sun as if he had all the time in the world when she knew he was a workaholic.

“I saw your friend go back to work, so thought I’d join you,” he said, tipping his face up to the brilliant blue sky and the blistering sun. “Nice day.”

“It’s hot.”

He tilted his head to look at her. “Yeah, but nice anyway. What’s wrong, Charlie?”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“You seem a little on edge.”

“No, just thinking.”

“About?”

“Lots of things.”

“Want to narrow that down any?” he asked.

“Not really.” She wouldn’t have known where to begin. Besides, it wasn’t as if she could tell him she was being blackmailed. And she couldn’t very well tell him that whatever thoughts weren’t being taken up by the mystery threats were devoted to him. God, could this get any more complicated?

He straightened up, but kept that one arm along the bench, almost close enough to touch Charlie. She had the strangest impulse to lean back into him. But she didn’t do it. “Your friend. She works at Waverly’s?”

“Yeah,” Charlie told him, taking a sip of her tea. “She’s in Accounting.”

He nodded. “Has she said anything about the situation with Rothschild’s?”

“She doesn’t know anything,” Charlie said on a sigh. “And she’s not really worried about it, either. She thinks it’ll all work itself out.”

He laughed shortly but there was no humor in the sound. “I wish she was right. Truth is, we have no idea what Dalton is up to.”

“Ms. Richardson hasn’t said anything more?”

“No.” He frowned and looked out at the bustle of Fifth Avenue. Charlie followed his gaze and thought how odd it was that the world could go on so blithely while she was tied up in so many knots. Brilliant splashes of color sprouted from the flowers spilling from cement planters. Car horns blared, a siren wailed in the distance and a dog walker herded six dogs of varying sizes along the sidewalk.

“I had a good time last night,” he said quietly.

She laughed, keeping her gaze on the street because it was so much safer than staring into his gold-flecked brown eyes. “No, you didn’t.”

He reached out, cupped her chin and turned her face to his. Then he grinned at her and the flash in his eyes took her breath away. The man was absolutely devastating when he smiled and put his heart into it.

“Crazy,” he said as he released her. “But I really did. Not that I’m in any hurry to go back to the Zoo Diner. Appropriate name for it, by the way. But I had a good time with you.”

God, it would be so easy to let herself fall for him when he was like this. Just the touch of his hand on her skin made her yearn for more. The soft smile on his face had her wanting to kiss that delectably curved mouth. He was the most dangerous man she had ever known.

“Vance, what’re you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

She shifted on the stone bench and felt the sun-warmed heat of it soak into her. Looking into his eyes, she asked, “This. With me. Why are you being … nice?”

One eyebrow went up. She had already noticed that he did that when something caught him off guard.

“I have to have a reason for being nice?”

“It’s just—” She took a breath and blew it out. “You’re acting like you’re interested in me and I’m not sure why. Or what you expect.”

He reached over, took her hand and held it for a second or two. Long enough to get her pulse pounding and her heart rate jumping into high gear. Then he gave her hand a squeeze before letting go and said, “I like you. Is that so strange?”

“I guess not.” Though silently she was saying, Yes, it is strange. I’m your assistant. I’m not rich. I have a baby. I’m not the kind of woman you usually spend time with, so what’s going on? She had seen enough photos of him in the society pages of the newspapers to know that most of the women in his life had trust funds, rich ex-husbands or both. So why, she asked herself again, was he coming on to her?

“Good.” He stood up, checked his watch and said, “Lunch is over and I hear your boss is a real bastard about work hours.”

“Yeah.” She stood up, too. “You wouldn’t believe the stories about him.”

He stopped. “There are stories?”

“Millions of ‘em,” she quipped. “But I don’t gossip.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

There was something here, she thought. Just under their words. A feeling. A sense of something that wasn’t being said. Attraction yes, but that wasn’t all and it felt … off. He trusted her and she wasn’t going to do anything to ruin that. But at the same time, she had a threat hanging over her head that jeopardized everything in her life.

Suddenly, Charlie wanted to tell him all of it. To ask for help. But she was too afraid of what he might think. What he might do. She couldn’t lose her job. She couldn’t lose her son.

So, instead, torn with confusion and indecision, she settled for losing her mind.

“I’ll see you at the office,” she said and tossed her iced tea cup into the nearest trash can.

Then she walked alone down Fifth, part of the crowd, but separate. And she felt the heat of his gaze follow her.

“This is starting to become a habit,” Charlie said when she opened her front door to Vance three nights later. He smiled at her and Charlie’s heart did a slow flip and curl. The man was just … overpowering. Even now, when he was wearing blue jeans, a short-sleeved red shirt and a pair of boots, he exuded power and a sensual heat that should have been illegal.

Every evening since the first night he had brought her home, Vance had appeared at her door, and they’d gone for long walks with Jake. Sometimes they window-shopped, sometimes they stopped for cookies and a latte. Most of the time, they just took turns pushing Jake’s stroller and … talking.

And Charlie was getting way too used to it.

Vance leaned against the doorjamb and grinned at her. “Are you complaining?” he asked, then half turned. “Because I could leave …”

“No,” she said quickly. She wasn’t sure what was going on between her and her boss, but whatever it was, she liked it. Probably too much. “Not complaining.”

“Good.” His eyes fixed on her and Charlie’s heartbeat quickened. Then he squatted down to eye level with the toddler in his stroller. “So, Jake, where to tonight?”

The tiny boy squealed with delight and shouted “Ba! Ba!”

Vance looked up at Charlie. “He says a night at the ballet would be clichéd. He’d prefer a stroll through the park.”

“Well, then,” Charlie said, laughing, “by all means.”

Vance maneuvered the stroller out the front door and down the short set of steps to the grass. Charlie pulled the door closed behind her and locked it. Then she paused to take a quick look up and down her street. She loved it here.

Her apartment building had once been a grand old house, built to look like a Tudor-style English manor. Years ago, it had been converted into four apartments. She had the ground-floor apartment on the right side and her friend Katie was just upstairs. Charlie never would have been able to afford an apartment in this area ordinarily, but the owner was an elderly woman currently living in England and she had a soft spot for babies, so she’d made Charlie an excellent deal.

The streets in Forest Hills, Queens, were narrow and decked with trees that looked as though they’d been there for centuries. Her neighbors were quiet but friendly and Manhattan was just a train ride away. But here, New York moved more slowly and Charlie could almost convince herself that she was living in a small town again. It was a perfect place to raise Jake. She looked at Vance smiling at her son and thought, at the moment, everything was perfect.

“Where are you guys going tonight?” a woman’s voice called out and shattered the quiet.

Charlie sighed, turned and looked up. Katie was hanging out her living room window, grinning down at them. She had probably been haunting her window just waiting for Vance to show up. Charlie couldn’t really blame her. This was all so odd, so out of the ordinary …

“To the park,” Vance answered, then picked up the stuffed dog Jake had tossed.

“Have a good time,” Katie said, a teasing tone in her voice. Then she gave Charlie a knowing wink before darting back into her apartment. No doubt, Katie would be turning up with a bottle of wine and a dozen questions later tonight. Charlie only wished she had a few answers for her.

Charlie turned to Vance. “You realize that Katie has told everyone at Waverly’s about your coming to see me every night.”

He shrugged. “Do you care?”

She should, Charlie knew. Getting involved with Vance Waverly was probably a huge mistake. But looking into his eyes, she knew she couldn’t regret a moment of this—whatever it was. Every evening, when the light was just slipping away, he showed up to spend time with her and Jake. And every evening, she told herself not to expect him. Not to look for him. But she did anyway and when she saw him, her heart got a little more involved. How could it not? He was so good with Jake. And so much fun to talk to. And when he took her hand in his, she felt … treasured.

Silly.

“No,” she said firmly, “I don’t care.”

“Good.” He smiled at her as if she’d given him the perfect answer. “So let’s go.”

They walked a few blocks east and the world changed perceptibly. As lovely as her street was and as much as she loved it, Charlie always felt a little twinge of … not envy, exactly, just a bit wistful when she walked through Forest Hills Gardens. Exclusive mansions sprawled behind wide, manicured lawns and what looked like private forests.

“I haven’t been in this neighborhood since I was a kid,” Vance mused.

“You lived here?” Charlie couldn’t imagine living in a more beautiful spot. She could practically see Jake growing up on these gorgeous streets, riding his bike up and down circular driveways, climbing the majestic trees. Of course, that was a completely unrealistic daydream—but what was the point of having ordinary dreams?

“No, a friend of my father’s did,” Vance said. “We used to visit him a lot. Funny, I haven’t thought of this place in years. But it’s really nice, isn’t it? And close to the city.”

“It’s perfect is what it is,” Charlie said, with a little sigh of pleasure.

“Yeah?” He stopped pushing the stroller and looked at her. “If you had to pick, which house would you buy?”

She took a deep breath and smiled. “It wouldn’t be easy to choose, but I do have a favorite,” she admitted, because she had played this little game with herself every time she took Jake for a walk down there. There were brick mansions and bungalow styles. There was even a home with a red Spanish tile roof. But the house she loved had stood out for her from the beginning. Hooking her arm through his, she gave Vance a tug and said, “Come on. It’s a little farther down.”

Halfway down the block, she stopped. Giving his arm a squeeze, she said, “That’s my house. Well,” she added with a half shrug, “the owners don’t know it, of course.”

She always found the chance to walk past the house she considered her dream home. It was like an English cottage only bigger. It was three stories high with sloped roofs and dark red shutters on the windows. There were brilliant splashes of pink and yellow flowers crouched around the long porch, and the wide double front doors were arched, like a storybook castle.

“It’s beautiful,” Vance said.

“It really is,” she agreed, and met his gaze only to find him staring at her not the house. “All it needs is a porch swing.”

“You’d like a swing?”

“Oh, yes. That would be nice,” she mused, staring at the house for another long moment. “Sitting outside, watching the sun go down, saying hi to your neighbors …” Her voice trailed off as she turned her head to look up at him.

A soft, warm wind raced down the street. From a few houses down came the rhythmic thumping of a basketball, and a dog barked just because he wanted to be heard. The light in the sky was easing into twilight and Jake was in his stroller, laughing and talking to himself.

It was a perfect moment.

Vance leaned toward her. Charlie went up on her toes, her gaze drifting from his eyes to his mouth and back again. Her heartbeat was pounding and the world around her seemed to take a breath and hold it in anticipation.

His mouth was just an inch from hers when Jake tossed his stuffed animal and then howled in frustration. The baby’s shout broke the spell growing between Charlie and Vance and she could only be grateful for it.

Infatuation was one thing. Allowing herself to make a fool of herself over a man she would never be able to have was something else entirely.

Quickly, she picked up the stuffed dog, handed it back to Jake and told Vance, “We should get Jake home.”

“I suppose it is getting late,” Vance murmured.

She flashed him a glance, then looked away quickly. It was already too late, Charlie thought. Her heart was involved whether she wanted to admit it or not.

A week later, Vance was wound too tight and seriously on edge. The only one he hadn’t lost his temper with was Charlie. Which was ironic, considering that she was the one who had his insides tied into knots that only got tighter with every passing second.

The woman was getting to him and that had not been in the plan. Every damn day around her, his blood ran hotter, his mind clouded a little further and the idea of having her dug claws of need ever deeper into him.

Add to that the fact that he knew damn well she was lying to him about something. They’d spent nearly every night together. Oh, not in bed. More’s the pity, he told himself. But at dinner, taking Jake for walks or just sitting around her small, tidy apartment in Queens.

Hell, he was going to Queens for her. What was next? Brooklyn? At the thought, he jumped up from his desk chair and stared down onto the tree-lined street below Waverly’s.

Charlie was antsy. Nervous. And getting worse every day. She checked through the daily mail as if afraid of what she might find. She jumped when he entered a room and just yesterday, one of the security guards reported that Charlie had been in the records room, where all the old files and reports were kept. Why the hell would she be down there? And why hadn’t she told him? What was she hiding?

His gut told him something was off with Charlie. Another part of his anatomy told him he shouldn’t care. His mind was stuck somewhere in the middle.

When the office intercom buzzed, he stabbed at the button, focusing all his frustration on it. “What is it?”

“Jeez,” Charlie said. “Bite my head off.”

He rubbed one hand across his face and shook his head even as he smiled to himself. It hadn’t taken long for Charlie to feel at ease in the boss-assistant relationship. “Sorry. A lot on my mind. What is it?”

“Security’s on line 2 for you,” she said a little breathlessly.

“Right.” He didn’t think about the fact that she sounded nervous. Instead, he punched a button on his phone and said, “Waverly.”

“Mr. Waverly, this is Carl in Security. You asked us to let you know if anything out of the ordinary happened.”

“Yeah?” Hell, he’d had the whole place on alert for the past couple of weeks in hopes that they might catch whoever might be trying to sell them out to Rothschild’s. Now that they had something, though, Vance wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to hear what was coming.

Carl said, “We had the IT department keeping a tight lock-down on sensitive areas—in general, setting up their version of alarms. They alerted us to the fact that someone in your office was trying to access secure files this morning. And it wasn’t from your computer.”

This morning, when Vance had been at a meeting with a potential client. When Charlie was alone in the office.