Suite Temptation. Anita Bunkley

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Suite Temptation - Anita Bunkley Mills & Boon Kimani

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back toward the house, she surveyed her colorful flower garden with pride: it was one of the reasons she had purchased this house on Puerto Valdez Avenue. The Craftsman-style bungalow had cost twice as much as she had planned to pay when she decided to become a homeowner, but it was worth the investment. Her house was close to downtown, on a quiet tree-lined street, and just the right size for a single person.

      For Riana, living on Puerto Valdez Avenue was like residing on a tropical island of calm and peace. She thrived on the privacy of the mid-town neighborhood, where every street ended in a wide cul-de-sac, and the only vehicles cruising past belonged to a resident or someone who had business being in the area. The chirps of birds and the rustle of tropical foliage drifted over smooth green lawns that fronted the tidy homes, which were set back from the street and divided by hedges of blooming oleanders along the driveways.

      Inside, Riana went into her recently updated kitchen and looked into the fridge: orange juice, bottled water, a diet drink, a pint of cottage cheese and a carton of eggs. She shouldn’t have been surprised. There were two things Riana did not do: cook or clean house. A housecleaning service descended on her home once a week to keep it spotless, and she drank juice for breakfast, had lunch delivered to her office from a nearby health-food store and usually picked up a salad or pasta for dinner from Central Market on her way home. Today, she had been so preoccupied with memories of her time with Andre she had forgotten all about food.

      After taking out the can of diet drink, she shut the refrigerator door and poured it into a glass, sipping it while she arranged the yellow roses in a white glass vase, impressed with the size of the blossoms.

      Finished with her arrangement, she placed it on the coffee table in her muted beige-and-cream living room, and, grabbing her diet drink, went into her home office for a quick e-mail check. However, instead of logging into her mailbox, she punched in Andre’s Web site address and held her breath as she gazed at his photo and read his résumé over and over, unable to tear her eyes away from his face or get her mind off the only man she had ever loved.

      What am I doing? she silently fretted, sensing his presence wrap around her, her heartbeat steadily increasing. Why am I acting as if I care? As if he means a thing to me? However, she knew the answer. She loved Andre, and the realization was not one she could ever escape.

      Since moving back to San Antonio, she had acquired an interesting circle of friends and had dated often enough to suit her needs. However, too often, when she did meet a man who interested her, the relationship quickly fizzled when he realized that his role in her life would be solidly paired with her devotion to Executive Suites, Inc.

      Riana was well aware that her strong work ethic turned some men off, but in Riana’s opinion, everything was as it should be. She was living the good life—in a home that she owned, driving the car that she loved, dressing in stylish, well-made clothes and investing in her future. This was all she’d ever wanted to do and she had no plans of changing anything in order to please an insecure man or her overprotective family.

      I was right to leave Andre, she told herself. If I hadn’t, I never would have accomplished the goals I set for myself, and I never would have created the company I love so much.

      Becoming a successful businesswoman had been Riana’s dream since she was young, going back to the days when she had taken the city bus across town to the private school that she and Britt had attended. Cruising through the crowded business section, she had gazed out the windows, fascinated by the women in tailored business suits, carrying expensive looking attaché cases who hurried across intersections and along the streets, going in and out of the multiwindowed buildings. She had always wondered what they did behind those heavy doors of brass and tinted glass, in those rooms looming high above the city.

      During her senior year of high school, Riana accepted a part-time job at a national life-insurance agency whose offices filled seven floors of a building in the heart of the business center. Thrilled to finally be a part of the fascinating world she had longed to explore, she quickly imitated the dress, the stride and the in-office mannerisms of the women with whom she associated. Her salary was low, her job was tedious, but she went to work every afternoon with a smile on her face and an intense desire to do her best. That approach, coupled with a positive attitude, soon caught the attention of Madeline Betts, the vice president of the insurance company.

      Madeline took Riana under her wing and coached her on the ins and outs of the insurance business. Told her how to get what she wanted from the corporate managers—all males—who dominated the company and presented great challenges for women with drive and purpose.

      Learn to be tough, but fair, Madeline had told Riana. Be persistent, but not overly aggressive when negotiating. Never take anything or anyone for granted. Don’t compromise, if doing so would leave you with regrets. And most important of all—never burn bridges, or let anyone burn them for you. We’re all too interconnected to take such a chance.

      Riana had thrived under Madeline’s tutelage, and when she applied for admission to graduate school at the University of Texas, Madeline Betts wrote the glowing recommendation that Riana believed had won her a full scholarship to the master’s program in the College of Economics. With her advanced degree, she had been quickly snapped up by Sweetwater Finance where the most important thing she learned was how not to run a company. Getting fired had definitely been a blessing in disguise.

      Now, as she studied Andre’s Web site photo, she wondered if finding him again would turn out to be a blessing or a curse.

      Chapter 4

      It was difficult for Riana to gauge George Allen’s reaction to the candidates she had presented for his consideration and she was beginning to get nervous. Ten days had passed since he’d first contacted her and it was time for him to let her know whom she ought to pursue. With a great deal of care, he read over each résumé, made a few notes in the margins and then set it aside before going on to the next.

      At last, he removed his glasses and placed them on the conference table, prepared to reveal his decision.

      “They all look good, Riana,” he finally said, drumming two fingers on the hard, polished wood. “Tomas Segovia has great credentials, but everything he’s done looks the same. Nothing innovative there,” Allen replied, thumbing his chin as he leaned back in his big leather chair. “Sandra Morehouse’s last job was extremely well executed, but it wasn’t well received by the county officials.” Allen tucked his bottom lip beneath his teeth as he considered another résumé. “Now, this young man takes a fresh, bold approach to his designs. Exactly what I’ve been thinking about for Tierra Trace.” He focused on Riana when he said, “I think what Andre Preaux did with the Arbor Oaks design was most impressive. He just might be able to deliver what I want.”

      Allen’s comment threw Riana momentarily off guard, though she knew it shouldn’t have upset her at all. He was right: Andre’s striking design, which had addressed important environmental, residential and economic factors had made it a winner, making Arbor Oaks stand out from the plethora of average projects that the other architects and planners had completed. However, all of Andre’s talent didn’t erase the fact that it was going to be very difficult for her to approach him, and she didn’t dare reveal her concerns to George Allen.

      “His firm is very small. In fact, he may be a one-man shop. And other than the senior citizens’ facility, he hasn’t done much to prove his talent,” Riana quickly tossed back, a worry frown creeping over her brow.

      George Allen nodded his understanding, but countered her concern with a statement that made Riana’s stomach tighten. “I still think he’s the one. What draws me most to Preaux is that he took risks with unusual materials and he got the job done in record time.”

      I

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