Chapter One

He wasn’t at all what Kristen St. John expected. Tall, lean and tan. His hair, bleached from the sun, glittered almost white beneath the Mexican restaurant’s skylight. He looked like an angel, but she knew Heaven hadn’t sent Morgan Stone.

And it had to be Morgan. Dressed in navy blue slacks and a white shirt rolled up at the sleeves, he was the only other person in the lobby. The lunch crowd had long since left Pablo’s, one of downtown Phoenix’s favorite haunts for Mexican cuisine, and it was still too early for Happy-Hour.

She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. She’d come here for a purpose, and as soon as she learned what Morgan had to tell her about her boyfriend, she’d walk back out the door.

She stepped farther into the waiting area. Morgan must have heard her heels against the tile; he turned and watched her shorten the distance between them. As she drew closer, she searched his face and discovered his expression was exactly what she expected: cold, rigid, and determined. On the telephone hours before, she had heard those same qualities in his voice.

“Kristen St. John. Right?”

Nodding, she met his gaze and wondered how brown, almost gold, eyes could look so glacial. Or were they? Something hot and dangerous flashed in their depths, and Kristin’s composure faltered. She knew absolutely nothing about this man other than he knew her boyfriend, Jeff.

Morgan’s lips flattened into what some might consider a smile. “You’re not exactly what I pictured.” He raked his gaze over her figure. “I remember Jeff having a thing for leggy blondes—not redheads.”

Kristin stiffened. “It’s not red. It’s auburn.” She knew she sounded defensive, but she hadn’t expected a verbal attack. “Obviously Jeff’s changed.”

“I don’t think so.”

At his sarcastic tone, she frowned. “I don’t know what you’re implying. And I’m not one to play games, so get to the point.”

“Oh, I will. All in good time.” He flashed another of those oh-so-cold smiles. “But this isn’t the place. Let’s try the bar.”

“Fine.”

Conscious of Morgan directly behind her as she strode across the floor, Kristen tried to tell herself that his gaze wasn’t stabbing into her back. His dislike was almost palpable, and as to the reason, she hadn’t a clue.

She sat at a table in the center of the room decorated in festive shades of turquoise, pink and yellow. No dark, intimate corners for her. Not with this decidedly unsettling stranger within arm’s reach, she decided as their waiter arrived.

“I’ll have a beer and…” Morgan’s brow rose in question as he eyed her across the table.

“Water.”

Perched on the edge of her chair, she struggled to ignore his stare while their waiter returned with their drinks, then disappeared. After another full minute she’d had enough. “Do I pass inspection?” She hated the uncertainty in her voice. Somehow, she sensed Morgan Stone would ruthlessly use any weakness for his personal gain.

He arched one thick, golden brow. “You’ll do.”

Kristine snapped her teeth shut and smothered the urge to get up and walk out, but she needed to find out what Morgan had to say about Jeff.

“I don’t know why you had to see me.” Kristine regarded him with dislike. “If you hadn’t made it sound so important on the phone, I wouldn’t be here now.”

Morgan might be attractive in a cool, sophisticated sort of way. And granted, many women would find him appealing with those gold eyes, wide, full lips, square jaw, and platinum hair, but his personality needed reconstructive surgery.

“You were the one who insisted on meeting at a restaurant. I was more than willing to drop by your house.”

She detested his condescending tone. “Do you think I’m crazy? I don’t know you. Just because you say you knew Jeff doesn’t mean I’m going to let you into my apartment. For all I know, you could be some sick, deranged psycho.” Beneath the table, Kristine wrung her fingers in her lap. “And I don’t see why you couldn’t tell me what was so darn important over the phone—like any normal person.”

“I couldn’t show you what I had over the phone. Remember?”

She shifted in her chair and noticed the large manila envelope resting on the table beneath Morgan’s forearm. A sudden burst of adrenaline coursed through her body. “Is that it? What you have to show me?”

He nodded and fingered the envelope. “Yeah, thanks to the detective I hired.”

“You had Jeff investigated?” She choked back an incredulous laugh. “You can’t be serious!”

“Oh, I am. Don’t doubt it for a second.” His icy aura slipped.

“But why? Jeff couldn’t possibly have done anything wrong. He’s the most dependable, hardworking man I’ve ever met. I’ve known him ever since my father started working for him four years ago.”

“Then you really don’t know Jeff.”

“Of course I do. There’s no need for him to keep secrets from me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” A pulse throbbed along the corner of his jaw

She wiped her hands on the cotton of her light blue sundress, determined to conceal how much his words disturbed her. Again, she asked, “Why did you have him investigated?”

“I have my reasons.”

Seeing the almost metallic gleam in his golden eyes reminded her of a mountain lion, beautiful but wild and deadly. The idea of Morgan setting his sights on her as his possible prey didn’t make her feel at all calm and rational.

Kristen shrugged a shoulder, determined to mask her mounting alarm. “Anything you tell me about Jeff isn’t going to surprise me.”

“And what if he’s seeing someone else? You’re telling me you wouldn’t be surprised?”

“You’re lying.” Ice cubs rattled as Kristen grabbed her glass and took a long, deep swallow of cold water. She set the glass back down with an unsteady hand.

The corner of his mouth tipped upward in satisfaction as he fingered the envelope. “Do photographs lie?”

Her nostrils flared. She detested him, his arrogance and his lies. The only thing keeping her in her chair was her need to know what Morgan had against Jeff. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You’re getting some kind of sick thrill.”

An indefinable emotion flickered across his face. “You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“Am I?”

A sudden shadow passed over the room, which deepened the hollows beneath Morgan’s cheeks and brows and altered his features into a sinister cast. She looked up at the darkened skylights and heard the patter of rain against the plastic. An afternoon monsoon. A normal occurrence during August in Phoenix, not some prophetic sign, as her imagination would have her believe.

Kristen shivered. He was only a man, she told herself, but she couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling of disquiet as she regarded the envelope beneath Morgan’s forearm. “Let me see.”

He hesitated, looking around the room. “Maybe we better wait. I’m starting to think this wasn’t such a good idea. At least not like this.”

She lunged and grasped the envelope before Morgan had a chance to react. “Why the change of heart? Could it be there isn’t anything of value in here after all?”

Something looking like concern flashed across his features. “I wouldn’t. Not now. You’re not going to like what you see.”

Smiling coolly, she ignored him, peeled back the flap, and slid out several smooth, glossy photographs that smelled of freshly processed film. There were about a half-dozen shots, but she focused on the top sheet. Someone had taken an intimate shot of a man and woman embracing. Even though a screen window cast a haze over the couple’s identity, Kristen recognized the slender build, the short, brown hair of the man in the photo. Jeff Peters. Naked from the waist up, he held a nude, blonde-haired woman. Bodies clinched, lips affixed, they looked like they couldn’t get enough of each other.

“No,” she hissed, squeezing shut her eyes, shoving the photos back in their envelope. Jeff couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He loved her, and she loved him. He would never betray her like this.

She opened her eyes, but couldn’t find it within herself to pull the photos back out and look at them again. Only five days ago Jeff had asked for her hand in marriage. After a candlelight dinner with champagne, the rest of the evening had been filled with dancing, soft kisses and moonlight. Even though she hadn’t given her answer yet, that night had been one of the most romantic evenings of her life.

But now…

She glared at Morgan and wanted to hit him. Clutching the photographs to her chest, she stumbled to her feet. “How could you. How could you be so cruel?”

He flinched. “I’m sorry, but Jeff started this. You just happened to get caught in the middle.” He leaned over the table, his expression serious, almost earnest. “But don’t you think you deserve to know the truth?”

Blinking back tears, she dragged in a lung full of air. “The truth? What truth? Or should I ask, whose truth? How do I know if these are recent? Or altered?” She mangled the envelope with shaking hands. “This could be all some type of sick setup. It’s obvious you’re out to get Jeff. What did he ever do to you? Tell me. I want to know.”

He straightened in his chair, his jaw growing implacable. “That’s my business.”

“Your ‘business’!” Her voice trembled with rage. She waved the envelope, ignoring the whispers and turning heads of the other diners. “You have the gall to say that after giving me these disgusting photos?”

She saw the glass on the table and looked at Morgan sitting there in front of her. She shouldn’t. It would be absolutely tacky. Completely inexcusable. But his coldness, his inflexibility—the complete sick situation—goaded her beyond rational thought. Grabbing the water, she tossed the contents, ice cubes and all, in his face.

She dropped the glass. It thudded against the table and rolled off, bouncing onto the carpet as she stared at him in horror. Water trickled down his reddening face, dripped from his chin to seep into his white shirt.

Morgan held her gaze as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “The truth hurts, doesn’t it?”

Kristen backed away from the table. Dislike, anger, she could have handled and anything else…but not the sudden and unexpected empathy shining from his eyes. A wave of anguish crashed into her, its force causing her to stumble, and she squeezed the envelope, crumbling the evidence of Jeff’s infidelity against her chest. Her chair nearly fell in her rush to get out of the restaurant.

She stepped through the front door just as thunder cracked across the sky, shaking the windows behind her. Rain, driven by wind, lashed her. She raised an arm to shield herself from the droplets that slapped her face. Head bent, she reeled down the sidewalk as the pungent order of car exhaust assailed her. A distant horn honked from somewhere.

Photos didn’t lie, no matter how many times she tried to tell herself otherwise. But she might be wrong. They could have been altered or taken years before she’d ever met Jeff. At the thought, a small flicker of hope blossomed in her heart.

Someone grabbed her arm and swung her around. Gasping in shock, she found Morgan towering over her. “I don’t want you driving this upset.” Water streamed down his forehead, plastering his hair to his skull. He regarded her with serious, worried eyes. “You’re liable to get in an accident.”

“What do you care?” she spat, hating herself, hating him. She shrugged off his hand and lurched backward, eyeing him with loathing. “Touch me again, and I swear I’ll scream.”

He raised his hands and stepped back.

She licked her lips, tasting rain and salty tears. “You really hate Jeff, don’t you? But you know what? You’re not going to break us apart that easily. Jeff’s got to have an explanation. I’m not about to start judging until I hear his side of the story.”

Pivoting, she thrust her tangled hair from her eyes and raced toward her Ford Focus. With fumbling hands, she managed to open the door and slip inside.

“You’re fooling yourself if you think Jeff’s going to tell you the truth,” Morgan called out. “He doesn’t know the meaning of the word.”

Slamming the door, she tossed the envelope on the seat beside her. Safely locked inside, she gunned the engine, flipped on the wipers, and peered through the slashing water. With his white shirt pasted to his muscular form, Morgan Stone stood frozen on the puddling asphalt and watched her through the pelting rain.

Shaken, she looked away and reversed out of the parking lot to turn right onto Central Avenue. Determined to remain calm, she merged into traffic. She needed her wits to arrive home safely. Thank goodness it was her day off from the restaurant. She wouldn’t have been able to function properly if she’d had to go directly to work—no doubt spilling soup or coffee while serving some unsuspecting customer.

She pulled into the parking place to her stucco and red tiled apartment complex without wrapping her car around a light post. She hurriedly reached her corner unit and slipped inside. Alone now, with only the hum of the refrigerator to greet her, Kristen felt herself start to crumble as she walked into the living room.

No. Kristen straightened her shoulders and scraped back her wet her with one hand. She wasn’t going to let that man get to her. That’s exactly what he wanted.

But she didn’t know what to do, whom to talk in, or even if she should talk to anyone about Jeff’s possible affair. She was twenty-five now, old enough to deal with life’s blows. Three years ago she’d moved out of her parents’ home. It had been a struggle to pay the rent with her salary and go to school full time, but she’d managed. What she hadn’t managed was her social life. She’d lost almost all of her old friends and the chance to confide with someone other than herself.

She bit back a sob. But she never envisioned having to deal with something like this.

Still gripping the photos in one hand, she hurried to her bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. She placed the envelope on her lap and stared at it in distaste for several minutes. It looked so innocent. A tear burned a path down her cheek, and she brushed it away impatiently.

She glanced over at her night stand and the black velvet box. With trembling fingers, she picked up the box and snapped the lid open. For some reason, the three-quarter carat diamond ring nestled inside didn’t appear as clear and incandescent this afternoon. She still remembered the excitement and wonder when Jeff asked if she’d marry him. After four years of secretly hoping and dreaming he would one day notice her, she still couldn’t believe he’d not only noticed her but wanted to marry her.

Strangely, after finally having his undivided interest, she’d hesitated and asked for time. She liked to believe it was because she wanted to savor the idea of Jeff wanting her and no one else. Suddenly and unexpectedly, doubts had reared into her thoughts. Doubts she didn’t want to dwell on, but how could she not with the envelope across her lap?

Drawing in a shaky breath, Kristen ignored the catch in her chest and tightened her lips in resolve. She placed the ring back on the dresser and took out the photographs.

The unexpected sound of the doorbell echoed through her one bedroom apartment. She shoved the pictures back inside their envelope and stuffed everything beneath a pillow. On shaky legs, she rose and ventured from the room.

She found her mother, Sharon, standing on the front porch with a sheepish expression and a sack of groceries in her arms. “Hi, Mom.”

Stepping inside, her mother shifted the bag in one hand and brushed the raindrops from her short, chestnut hair with the other. “Hello, Sweetie. I brought you a little something. I couldn’t resist. I was at the grocery store and thought you might need a couple of items.”

“Thanks,” Kristen said, smiling ruefully as she took the damp paper bag and led the way into the kitchen. She placed the bag on the counter and pulled a gallon of milk from inside. Once she’d realized that Sharon’s harmless offerings of food were her way of feeling needed, Kristen had stopped protesting.

“How did it go with your interview?” her mother asked from behind.

Kristen stared blankly at the plastic jug until she realized she’d used that as an excuse to cancel their shopping date in order to meet Morgan Stone. Sensing something dark and sinister in his motives, she’d held off in confiding with anyone. Thank goodness she’d followed her instinct, and the envelope hidden beneath the bedroom pillow was something she didn’t plan on telling anyone, particularly her mother.

“I didn’t get a good feeling.” Kristen placed the gallon in the refrigerator. “I doubt if I’ll get another call.”

Sharon smiled in reassurance. “Don’t worry. A career change takes time. Plus, you just graduated from college.”

The sudden, strident tone of the telephone chafed Kristen’s nerves. Her mother, the closest to the phone, picked it up. “Oh, hi. Yes, she’s right here.” She handed the phone to Kristen. “It’s Jeff.”