the assignment, don’t you?”
“I don’t even have a proposal prepared.”
“We can discuss it when we see each other. Six o’clock. A black Lincoln will be out front. I’ve got to go. I have a meeting in a few minutes. I’ll see you later.” He disconnected the call before she could come up with a reason not to.
Slowly, she returned the handset to its cradle. Six o’clock. Absently she glanced up at the clock on the wall. Four hours. She had four hours to prepare to see the man her heart would not let her forget.
There would never be enough time.
Chapter 5
Mia walked to the front of the office. Ashley was just hanging up from a call. She looked at Mia curiously.
“You okay? You look…shaken.”
Mia pressed her lips tightly together, as if the action could somehow hold back the words she needed to say. She pulled up a chair next to Ashley’s desk and slowly sat down.
“Remember the other day I asked you if an old flame had ever come back into your life?”
“Yeah,” she said, drawing out the word into two syllables.
Mia glanced away. “Well, my old love asked me out for drinks.”
Ashley’s finely arched brows rose. “Oh. Okay. Was this your idea or his?”
“His!” she said much too quickly. The guilt already getting to her.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning? Maybe that would help.”
The beginning. Yes, she could do that. Perhaps it was time.
Mia looked directly at Ashley. “I’ve never told this to anyone. No one. Not even Savannah and Danielle,” she said with a new pang of guilt for having kept her two best friends in the dark for so long. She drew in a long breath and as she released it, the illicit love affair spilled out on a rough tide of emotion.
Nearly an hour later, Mia blinked back the past and her gaze rested on Ashley, waiting for condemnation, a look of reprimand. Instead, she saw tears welling up in Ashley’s eyes.
Ashley sniffed and dabbed at the corner of her almond-shaped eyes with the tip of her index finger. “Wow,” she sputtered. “A true-life, tragic love story.” She folded her hands together. “And now he’s single?”
Mia bobbed her head.
Ashley pressed her hands flat on the desktop and leaned forward. “Do you love Steven?”
The question taunted her, tugged at her heart.
Of course she loved Steven, she told herself again as the black Lincoln navigated in and out of midtown Manhattan rush-hour traffic.
That’s what she said to Ashley, who told her simply, “Keep that at the forefront of your thoughts and then when you see Michael everything will fall into place.”
Mia certainly hoped so.
The driver gave her no indication where they were going. He’d only told her that Mr. Burke had arranged for dinner.
Dinner! That wasn’t the agreement, she’d worried. Drinks were impersonal. Dinner was intimate. It raised this meeting to another level.
When she next looked out the window, she realized that they were leaving the city. She grabbed her glasses from her purse and the directional signs came into focus. The driver had taken the exit to the FDR Drive.
She tapped on the Plexiglas partition. The window slowly whirred downward.
“Yes, Ms. Turner?”
“Where are we going?”
“To dinner.”
“You said that already.”
“That’s all I know, Ms. Turner.”
“You must know where you were told to drive,” she pressed, trying to control her rising temper, which was being overshadowed by her rising panic.
The partition whirred back into place, cutting off any further communication.
It was just like Michael to dream up something elaborate. But how in the world would she be able to explain what would certainly be a late night to Steven?
Sighing, she settled back against the plush leather. There wasn’t much that she could do other than wait it out. It’s not as if she could jump out of the car and make a run for it.
She’d deal with Michael when she saw him. She folded her arms and silently fumed, even as part of her bloomed with a macabre sense of excitement.
Forty minutes later, they took the exit to Sag Harbor. Mia jerked up on her seat and peered out the window.
The historic and quaint seaside town was elegantly quiet. The shops that were reminiscent of a postcard ad for weekend getaways were closed. The boats were docked and bobbing gently in the water.
The driver continued through the commercial section of town and drove to the outskirts, where the stately home of the wealthy African-American elite lived.
Finally, the driver turned into a cul-de-sac and pulled onto a gravel driveway.
Mia’s door was pulled open and the driver extended his hand to help her out of the car. She stepped out and reflexively inhaled the heady scent of the sea and brisk night air. The sky had just begun to fill with stars and the half-moon seemed to hang perfectly above a two-story, sprawling white house that overlooked the ocean.
It was breathtaking.
“This way,” the driver said, leading Mia up the path to the front door.
As she took the first of three steps, the door opened. Her gaze rose. Her heart leaped in her chest. She thought she was prepared to see him.
She wasn’t.
Michael descended the stairs like a fantasy hero out of a dream.
Mia couldn’t move, and before she could pull herself together, Michael was taking her hand and saying something to her, but she couldn’t make out the words: they were being drowned out by the pounding of the pulse in her ears and the electricity that was surging through her from his touch.
“I’m glad you came.”
Those four simple words stripped away the past, all the lost years and misgivings, and suddenly she was glad she’d come as well.
Michael could barely contain all that he was feeling inside. When he laid eyes on Mia, those words he spoke were no more than a smoke screen. He didn’t want to make polite conversation. He wanted to take her and make her remember what it felt like to have him inside her, her body wound around his, her soft moans yielding to screams of release. That’s what he wanted to do, but of course he couldn’t. Instead,
