Tender Loving Passion. Donna Hill

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Tender Loving Passion - Donna Hill Mills & Boon Kimani Arabesque

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them or see that appalled look in their eyes. She knew they’d demand an explanation as to why, and she wouldn’t be able to provide one, because she didn’t know why.

      Sounds of Ashley singing a very bad rendition of a Mary J. Blige tune drifted to her ears. Mia smiled. Oh, to be carefree, she mused.

      Her phone rang.

      “MT Management, Mia speaking.”

      “Hey, baby. Caught you at your desk.”

      “Hi, sweetie. This is a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

      “I have a couple of hours and I thought I’d swing by and take my favorite girl to a late lunch. If you haven’t eaten already.”

      “I’d love to.”

      “Great. See you in about twenty minutes.”

      “Okay.” Mia hung up the phone. Spending some time with Steven was just what she needed.

      * * *

      As promised, twenty minutes later, Steven came walking through the door.

      Mia’s heart skipped a beat when she saw him. She stood and came from behind her desk, her body warming with every step.

      “Hi,” she whispered as she came to a stop in front of him.

      Steven Long was, for lack of a better word, gorgeous. His complexion was the color of polished mahogany, he had a hard square jaw and chocolate-brown eyes with silky brows and lashes to die for.

      Two years in a row Jet magazine had listed him as one of New York’s most eligible bachelors. That was before he’d hooked up with Mia. Now he was off the market—permanently, if Mia had any say in the matter.

      His gunmetal gray suit fit every inch of his six-foot frame, and damn if she didn’t love a man in a good-looking suit. His pearl-gray shirt and burgundy-and-gray-striped tie set off the suit and his skin to perfection.

      Steven snaked his arm around Mia’s waist and swept her into a deep, lingering kiss that took her breath away. When he released her, she felt shaken and hot with desire.

      “You’re going to have to stop by more often,” she said, stroking his cheek with the tip of her finger.

      He grinned. “If only I could, gorgeous. How’s your day been so far?”

      Reality slammed into her. Her heart thumped. “Uh, not bad. We may have two more clients.”

      “That’s great. Congrats.”

      “Good for business, but not great for relationships. It means that I’ll be even busier,” she said, knowing that in the coming weeks she would need time away from Steven.

      He took her hand and massaged the center of her palm in sensuous circular motions that sent shivers running through her.

      “If anyone can multitask and make it look like child’s play, it’s you, babe.” He pecked her softly on the lips. “I ain’t worried,” he said with a grin. “Come on, let’s go before we spend all our free time talking about what time we won’t have.”

      “Lead the way.”

      * * *

      “How did you manage to get time away from the office?” Mia asked as they were seated in a back booth at Brothers Bistro, a great health-food eatery within walking distance of her office.

      “Blake is in the field taking some sketches of the renovation project in Brooklyn. This morning I put the finishing touches on the blueprints for the town houses in D.C. and realized I actually had some breathing room for a change.”

      It was amazing how far Steven and Blake had come in just over a decade. They’d built their business from a two-man company, working out of a storefront, to one of the major players with a staff of ten, an office in midtown and contracts that were expanding their business from its Manhattan locale to the capital.

      “If business keeps growing this way, any midday getaway would be wishful thinking,” Steven said.

      “Are you and Blake planning to hire more people?”

      “We may have to, just to handle the volume. But my fear is, as I’ve explained to Blake, at some point the bottom is going to drop out. Builders are going to stop building because no one can afford to buy.”

      Mia nodded in agreement. She knew all too well the fragility of the current economy and how it had wreaked havoc on countless American businesses, not to mention the thousands who’d lost their homes.

      “I don’t want to have to hire new people and realize in six months or a year that we have to let them go.”

      “What does Blake say?”

      “You know Blake, Mr. Optimistic. But I think I’m getting him to see my point.”

      “So what’s plan B?”

      “Work our asses off,” he said with a chuckle.

      Mia raised her water glass. “To working our asses off.”

      As she sat there laughing and talking with the man she loved and who loved her back, she knew that it was only a matter of time before the lies began. And she could only pray that he never found out—not so much about the Cartel, which would be devastating enough—but about her and Michael.

      Savannah’s censure she could live with. Danielle’s sharp tongue she could handle. But the hurt and lack of respect that she knew would be in Steven’s eyes would kill her inside. She would do whatever it took to keep that information from him. She’d get through it.

      But the true test would come when she saw Michael again for the first time. She knew it would be soon.

      Much too soon.

      Chapter 3

      It had been three days since Mia received her assignment and she had yet to do anything about it. She felt frozen, torn between what she had agreed to do—the oath she’d sworn—and the possible repercussions if she did what was necessary.

      “Mia.”

      She glanced up from the files on her desk and was surprised to see Ashley standing in front of her.

      “I...didn’t hear you come in,” she muttered.

      “I know. I knocked three times, but you didn’t answer. I’ve been standing here for a good thirty seconds and you didn’t budge. Is everything okay? You’ve been totally distracted for the past few days. That’s so not like you.”

      Mia sighed heavily and leaned back in her chair. She’d been debating about sharing some of her dilemma with Ashley—an abridged version—in hopes of getting an objective view. But because of the sensitivity of the issue, she’d balked at airing her dirty laundry. But holding it in was driving her crazy.

      She was a person of action, one who dealt with

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