Читать книгу: «Seductive Memory»

Chapter 1

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Three Weeks Later

“Maxton says the place will inspire our creativity.” Elias Joss’s piercing blue-green stare held a mix of doubt and curiosity as he observed the eight-by-eleven glossy in hand. The square work table before him carried several more of the aerial prints.

“Creativity, huh?” Santigo Rodriguez’s gold-flecked dark gaze harbored similar doubt, which was laced with humor instead of curiosity. “Where’s this villa he mentioned?”

Frowning slightly, Eli leaned over the table and upended another of the gold-toned folders that carried an additional sheaf of glossy images. “Here we go,” he said.

Tig’s light honey-toned face brightened with approval of the villa displayed in full color. It was tucked away on its own island a few miles from Finley Cay in The Bahamas.

“Now this is more like it,” Tig breathed, as if awestruck. “Yeah... I could see myself getting very creative in there.”

“Damn right.” Eli’s voice carried the same awe-filled chord. He had reached for one of the glossies as well and studied the immortalized image with distinct appreciation. “You thinkin’ what I am?”

“I am, if you’re thinkin’ our work should be mixed with a few weeks of unadulterated playtime.” Satisfied, Tig reclined in the wide ladder-backed chair to shuffle through a few more of the prints.

“Then it looks like our thoughts are one, my friend.” Eli helped himself to a few prints from Tig’s stack.

“I even have my playmate in mind.” Tig’s murmured words carried across the room.

“So do I,” Eli murmured in return.

The snort that followed had both men looking toward the far end of the table.

“What?” Tig queried in reaction to the glare Linus sent his way.

“You’re serious here?” Linus’s expression reflected amused disbelief. “I could swear you just got back from two weeks of unadulterated playtime with your playmate.”

“We’re newlyweds, Line.” Tig sighed matter-of-factly while giving a lazy stretch. “It’s my duty as a husband to keep my wife in bed for the better part of the next two years at least.”

“Good to know you take your vows seriously,” Linus noted while Eli chuckled.

Again, Tig sighed. “It’s an exhausting job, but I’ll survive somehow.”

Linus’s quick grimace sent the hint of a dimple flashing in his cheek. “You know Maxton will expect us to get just a little work done?” he said.

“See? This is why you’re their favorite.”

“I’m everyone’s favorite,” Linus countered. “Without me, they don’t get through the front door to the two of you.”

“And here they are, already through the front door, and you’re still their go-to guy because you keep us all on the straight and narrow.”

It was true. Linus’s outspoken nature and often biting wit had built him a respected name. Instead of clients shying away from his frequently intimidating persona, they appreciated the integrity that accompanied it.

“Line’s right.” Eli sobered. “Besides brainstorming ideas to turn this villa—and the island it sits on—into a worthwhile resort, we’ve got a stack of potential projects to decide on.”

Expressions on the three handsome faces in the room grew distinctly downcast. The partners of Joss Construction eyed the rust-colored accordion folder they’d been avoiding. Secured by a rubber band, the folder was fat with potential groundbreakers.

Joss was among a very select few in the construction business that rarely put in bids for jobs. The luxury of clients seeking them out for first refusals was one they’d worked very hard to acquire. Linus, Elias and Santigo had already taken preliminary meetings concerning each proposal. They had yet to decide which ones to add to an already robust lineup. Of course, being busy was nothing new for the talented trio.

Joss Construction was Elias’s inheritance, but his friends shared equally in the partnership. The three—friends since before they could talk—had taken Evan Joss’s brainchild and carried it to even greater heights of success and respect. While Elias believed that his late father would’ve never admitted he’d been surpassed in the business, he knew the man could never have argued it as fact.

Still, despite the partners’ notable accomplishments, clients who offered tropical escapes to exclusive, fully furnished villas on private islands in The Bahamas didn’t come around every day.

“Is it just me or does it seem like Line isn’t comprehending all the fringe benefits of this getaway?”

“He’s just stressing over which of his many playmates to bring.”

Tig laughed over Eli’s remark. “Not to worry, Line. According to the list of amenities, the place is segmented into ten suites. You can bring at least two of your playmates.”

“At least,” Eli agreed.

“We can’t forget Bark though. He’ll need a place to tuck away one of his guests.” Tig referred to another close friend from the before-they-could-talk stage, Barker Grant.

“Bark isn’t all that showy.” Eli smirked. “Most likely he’ll be content with just one playmate. Line’s in a whole different league.”

“Hell yeah, he is.” Tig smiled, nodding. “Alright, Line, if B’s good with one guest, you can bring upwards of four lucky beauties. Tucked away in their own suites, everyone should be happy.”

Eli grinned, and it seemed as though full-blown laughter would soon follow. Linus muttered an obscenity as he pushed back from the table. The movement diffused the good vibes circulating the room. Linus left without another word. The door slamming at his back sent frowns passing between his friends.

“Something I said?” Tig queried.

Eli shook his head, gaze still fixed on the conference room door. “No different than usual. We always give him grief about all the women he juggles.”

“Yeah.” Tig set aside the villa photos, having lost interest in them. “Guess there comes a time when a joke’s been told too many times.”

“Mmm... I don’t think that’s it though.” Eli’s gaze was still on the door. “Line’s seemed...off for a while now. I noticed it when we got back from Cortina for your wedding.”

“From Rook’s place?” Tig referenced the home their friend kept in the small Italian province. “Think we should talk to him?” Tig shrugged at the skeptical look he got in return.

“You really want to do that while his temper is up?” Eli mused.

“Right.” Tig wagged a finger in the air. “We’ll wait ’til he’s cooler.”

Both men were well aware that a temper surge from Linus Brooks could be akin to setting a lit match to gasoline. They knew the man had made great strides in controlling the darkness when it took hold. They were also smart enough to know better than to tempt fate.

“Right,” Elias said in response to Tig’s suggestion. “We’ll wait.”

Boston, Massachusetts

Caught up in the moment. That’s all it’d been. That’s all it could ever be.

Paula Starker massaged her temples and then drew her fingers through the plump dark ringlets that covered her head in a flirty bob. Silently, she ordered the words to take hold of her psyche and convince her of their truth.

Linus had just been caught up in the moment; that’s where all his...insane talk had come from. She began to tap her fingers to her forehead to convince the idea to take root. She couldn’t quite make it stick, and knew the girl inside her was to blame. That was what happened when a woman went to war with the girl she’d been.

Paula had been sensing that girl—her former self—creeping closer to the surface of her consciousness ever since she’d seen Linus at the hospital following Sophie’s accident during her investigation of a previous case. All it had taken was a look from him to have the girl clamoring back to the surface. When he’d taken her hand to shake it, the girl had nearly swooned.

Paula couldn’t begrudge the girl her desires. More than anything, she wanted to give in to them too. The woman in her though...the woman was who she was now. Back then, the woman had swept in heroically to save the girl from being consumed by waves of self-pity. While the girl had only cared about being back in the arms of Linus Brooks, the woman had wanted to know why Linus Brooks had crushed her heart and left it to rot.

“Stop!” Paula gave a violent shake of her head. She was making too much of this now. Besides, she’d pretty much set him straight before storming off that beach in Mexico anyway.

The woman wanted answers, but she was also just fine with keeping things as they were. Yes, she deserved answers about the night things had changed between them so long ago. If she got them though...if she got them and her heart melted for him again... Paula knew neither the girl nor the woman would survive that kind of hurt twice in a lifetime.

Resting her head against the seat back, Paula studied the house at the top of the long winding brick drive.

“Hope you’ve got some words of wisdom, Professor B.” She sighed and rolled her window down to speak into the callbox outside the iron gates securing the home of Dr. Miranda Bormann, Esquire. Paula’s former professor and mentor had been her go-to source for answers to life’s most perplexing questions.

Paula sure hoped the woman hadn’t lost her knack for issuing excellent advice.

* * *

She ascended the wide front steps with more confidence than appreciation. Paula knew her confidence was most likely due to the fact that Miranda Bormann had been the one to reach out to request a visit. While Paula had kept healthy contact with her favorite professor over the years, she was usually the one to connect with offers to get together for dinner or a quick chat over afternoon tea, or coffee as it were.

She smiled, flexing her fingers around the handle of the paper bag she carried. The package contained a tin of Bormann’s favorite French roast. As district attorney of a major city, it had been difficult for Paula to keep to a consistent schedule of visits, but she made a tremendous effort.

It was nice to be visiting by Bormann’s invitation, rather than by her own request. Still, the technicalities didn’t change the fact that Paula was in need of serious mentoring just then. Her troubled past and recent encounter with Linus Brooks weren’t the only things wreaking havoc on her mind now.

Paula was poised to ring the bell when the broad pine door opened before her. She laughed, surprised and delighted to be met by the hostess herself.

Miranda Bormann personified what it meant to retire well. One reason was because the woman considered herself a lifelong student. She’d taken to acquiring firsthand knowledge of the world around her once she’d resigned from her tenure as a renowned law professor. The various LISTSERVs and web groups Paula subscribed to often reported on what hidden corner of the world Bormann had travelled to.

Understated elegance was the phrase that often followed a mention of Miranda Bormann’s name. Her papers and lectures also graced the shelves of some of the finest libraries in the world.

Bormann, however, was no diva. She was happy whether she was speaking over commencement exercises at a major university or working tirelessly in her greenhouse or outdoor flower garden. When the woman answered the door now, it was obvious she’d been getting her hands dirty.

“Looks like I’m dressed for work.” Paula spread her hands to indicate her worn jeans, sneakers and the lightweight sweatshirt under her jacket.

“For a change,” Miranda Bormann scoffed, but her sky-blue eyes were sparkling playfully as she assessed the younger woman’s attire. “It’s usually Prada or Gucci with you. Get in here.” Bormann pulled Paula into a tight embrace, which was followed by a cheek kiss.

“You always said clothes make the woman,” Paula noted when they pulled apart and she presented Bormann with the coffee.

“Ooh!” the noted professor cooed. She sniffed inside the bag as though the aroma of the freshly ground beans was wafting from the can.

“Nooo,” she said, her freckled nose scrunching in disagreement to Paula’s words. “I said perfectly pressed clothes make the woman. Invest in a good iron, and folks won’t know whether you’re in Coco Chanel or JC Penney. Now let’s see if this tastes as good as it smells.” Bormann hugged the bag close and led the way from the foyer.

“I was surprised to get your call,” Paula said as she followed. “I’m usually the one bugging you for a visit.”

“You never bug me! You keep me spry!” Bormann declared as she took the long corridor to her kitchen at a speed that had Paula sprinting to keep up.

“Glad to hear that.”

Bormann’s quick steps slowed, and she turned to eye Paula speculatively. “What’s that tone?”

Paula shrugged. “Life stuff.”

The playful sparkle in Bormann’s eyes turned sly. “A young man?”

Paula laughed. “We aren’t so young anymore.”

Bormann stuck out her tongue. “You’re a baby. Hank and I broke up four times before we were married and made a go of it for fifty-two years.” She raised thin, perfectly arched brows.

Again, Paula laughed. “It’s complicated.”

“It always is, my love.” Bormann turned and continued her trek down the corridor. “So...young man troubles and? Anything more to go on the day’s agenda?” She breezed into the airy kitchen that looked to be half the size of a football field.

Paula took her place on one of the cushioned high-back stools dotting the long wood-grained island that separated the cooking space from a cozy breakfast nook and sunken den area. “The rest is about work.”