by the allure of his eyes. She swallowed, cocked a brow and met his gaze head on.
“I was informed,” he continued in that voice that could make a good girl do wicked things, “by the Board that you’d be with me for the next two months.”
“I have that long to complete my story and hand it in,” she corrected. “I’m sure I’ll finish before then so that we can get out of each other’s way as soon as possible.”
The tiny corner of his mouth lifted, indicating the bare beginnings of a smile. “I hope you have your passport in order. After leaving the Los Angeles offices, I’ll be heading to Tokyo.”
“I’m aware of that. I was given your itinerary. Actually, I’m looking forward to the next six weeks.” She smiled that slow, burning smile again and he felt his insides begin to smolder.
Maxwell stood and shoved his hands into his pants pockets, partly in dismissal, but mostly because he didn’t know how his body would react if he touched her again.
Her eyes challenged his. She straightened her shoulders. “What time do you come in?”
Even a simple question sounded suggestive coming out of that mouth of hers, Maxwell thought, annoyed.
“I’m in the office by eight.”
“Then I guess that’s when we’ll see each other again.” She bent to retrieve her briefcase. “It was a pleasure to finally meet you Max. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”
“Take the elevator directly to your right,” Maxwell instructed, ignoring the pseudo-friendly overture. “Security on board will see you out.”
Without another word, she turned and strolled out of the office, her hips swaying to a slow, erotic beat that only she could hear.
Alone now in his office, Maxwell could hear the rapid beating of his heart, feel the throb that pulsed between his muscular thighs, smell the scent of her that had settled over him like morning dew. This isn’t going to work, he realized, and the sooner that was understood the better. Maxwell strode across the room, slung his hand into his pants pockets and stood in front of the window. He’d find out how much her advance was and write a check to whomever. The quicker Reese Delaware was out of his way and his life, the better for everyone.
For several seconds, unobserved, Reese stood on the opposite side of Maxwell’s door, concentrating on breathing and getting her legs to stop trembling. Briefly she shut her eyes, and took a deep, calming breath.
That was more than just animal magnetism in there, Reese realized as she pushed the button for the elevator. Whatever thing that connected them and virtually lit up the room with electricity was something so powerful, it frightened her with its force.
Sure, she’d been turned on by men before and relished the thrill of watching them when she played “the game.” This was no game—and whatever it was, she couldn’t let it interfere with what she’d come to do. She would not. Getting at the truth was what drove her. It was what woke her up in the morning. If she couldn’t find it or have it in her own life—she’d be damned if she wouldn’t uncover it in everyone else’s.
The elevator slowly descended. Reese exited and strolled out into the sprawling complex of the Plaza. For now, she would put thoughts of Maxwell Knight aside. She’d deal with him tomorrow. What she needed was a good night’s sleep so that she’d be sharp enough to duel with him toe to toe.
But sleep was not to come. For the first time in three years, the nightmares began again.
Chapter 2
The following morning, Reese took special care in preparing for what she knew would be a day of confrontation.
She’d barely slept two hours the entire night. She’d tossed, turned, leaped up in a sweat, dozed and began the process again.
Her hands were shaking when she attempted to stroke her lashes with mascara. “Must be those five cups of coffee you drank in less than an hour,” she muttered to her reflection, attempting to smile.
Pressing her lips together, she shut her eyes and hung her head, bracing herself with her palms against the cool white porcelain sink. Her head pounded.
It had been three years since she’d had the nightmares. The headaches had all but disappeared. She no longer had to take the prescription medication for the pain; over-the-counter painkillers worked just fine. Until last night. The pain had gotten so intense, she’d had to call her physician in Chicago to phone in a prescription to the all-night drugstore.
She tasted salt in the corner of her mouth. She opened her eyes to see the tears slide slowly down her cheeks. “Not again,” she whispered. “Please not again.”
Maxwell knotted his silk tie and clipped it to his blue pin-striped shirt with a gold clasp bearing his initials: MJK. He took a final look in the mirror, his reflection bringing to the forefront his mixed ancestry. He peered a bit closer and brushed his finger across his left eyebrow where a martial arts mishap had left its mark.
He breathed heavily and shrugged into his jacket. The look of the corporate executive never suited him, but he also realized that it was all part of the facade. Although he always felt more comfortable in jeans, sneakers, and a sweatshirt, he’d always done what was necessary to fit in. Thinking that perhaps by doing so, he’d avoid the extra looks, the questions that had dogged him most of his life.
Maxwell was never ashamed of his mixed Japanese and African-American heritage. For the most part, his exotic looks acted as a magnet, drawing people to him. It was the questions, raised eyebrows, and murmurs of feigned understanding that bugged him the most. He couldn’t answer the questions about his natural mother. He never knew her. According to James Knight, his father, his mother Suki had been killed in Japan shortly after his birth. James had married his stepmother, Claudia, some months later. And since Maxwell could not answer the questions about his Japanese mother, he’d created a picture of her to assuage the missing link of his life.
Over time, he’d gradually built up a wall around himself, keeping people and questions at bay. Yet there was a part of him that believed there was more to the story than his father cared to divulge.
He shook his head, scattering his ruminating. Now was not the time to indulge in things he could not change. So he continued to walk the line between being black and being Japanese, hoping that one day the two worlds would somehow meld into one.
Leaving his bedroom, he collected his keys and briefcase and walked out into the warm, early summer morning to face his day and the probing of Reese Delaware, a day he’d spent years trying to avoid.
Reese was already seated in the reception area when he got off the elevator. She was so engrossed in typing something onto her laptop computer, she didn’t even look up, apparently unaware of his arrival. For a moment, he was glad to see her in her bright lime green linen suit. She wore her hair differently, he noted. Her shoulder-length tresses were pulled away from her face and neck and piled on top of her head in a tumble of jet black curls.
Then, just as quickly as the moment of joy had filled him, it was replaced with the realization that her only purpose was to dig into his life. His smooth brow creased into a frown. Loudly, he cleared his throat. Her head snapped up. Their eyes connected and the charge popped back and forth between them.
“Good
