Читать книгу: «High Society Sabotage»
High Society Sabotage
Kathleen Long
For Denise Zaza and Allison Lyons, with gratitude.
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to
Kathleen Long for her contribution to the
BODYGUARDS UNLIMITED, DENVER, COLORADO,
miniseries.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
Ten minutes into the party, Sara Montgomery knew she’d been spotted by a potential target. And she couldn’t be more pleased.
She stole a glance at Kyle Prescott as he worked the large birthday party for his stepfather. He wound his way through the society and corporate types gathered at the Turner ranch as if he’d done so all his life.
Sara laughed softly to herself. He had done so all his life.
She noted the sideways glance he sent her way. One corner of his mouth lifted, as if he knew she watched him.
She smiled, hoping the man would read her expression as a sign of interest and not for what it really was—a smile of satisfaction. Satisfaction that she’d found a potential means to infiltrate TCM, her latest assignment for Prescott Personal Securities and the true reason Sara found herself at TCM CEO Stephen Turner’s birthday party.
After being briefed on the investigative findings to date, Sara had developed several options for achieving her goal. Oddly enough, charming her way into Kyle Prescott’s life had fallen somewhere toward the bottom of the list.
As the man mingled with other partygoers, cir cling ever closer to where she chatted with a TCM employee, Sara realized she should have put Kyle Prescott at the top of her list.
He was the perfect in, assuming she played her cards right. Which she would.
The playboy represented everything she loathed about the society scene, but what did it matter? Sara had a job to do, and she’d do it well. She always did. She wasn’t about to let the sour taste left in her mouth by a polite society gathering such as this one distract her from her objective.
Access enough inside information on TCM to find out who was operating the bogus Kingston Trust and the scheme to buy up land for the oil beneath—no matter what the ultimate cost.
Considering the rising body count of Kingston Trust investors, Sara knew she had to work quickly, and effectively.
If Kyle Prescott represented the pawn she needed to get inside the workings of TCM, so be it.
She had every intention of stopping the conspiracy before the next victim fell.
The mission called for her to blend in with the society crowd, so blend in she would.
She took a sip of her champagne, noting the weight of the crystal flute in her hand. The ballroom at the Turner ranch had been decked out from corner to corner in only the finest linens, flowers and crystal.
Candles, which Sara understood to be hand-dipped by children at a local charity Stephen Turner supported, adorned each table as centerpieces.
While the glitz and glamour of the entire scene made the small hairs at the base of Sara’s neck lift, the presence of the candles provided a tender, human touch that made the entire visual tolerable.
While Sara had always hated the party scene, her older sister, Annemarie, had lived for it. She’d died for it, as well, being murdered at a party days before what would have been her coming-out ceremony.
Sara had refused to attend the same party and her parents had never forgiven her, as if somehow Annemarie’s death wouldn’t have happened had Sara been in attendance.
Sara’s heart gave a sharp twist, the familiar ache squeezing her chest. Maybe they were right. Maybe she could have made a difference, had she only been there for Annemarie.
Sara had gone through with her own debut a year after they buried Annemarie—part of the Montgomery family plan to prove the unsolved murder of their oldest daughter hadn’t destroyed them.
Attending the debutantes’ ball was the last thing Sara ever did to please her parents. They certainly didn’t approve of the life she’d created for herself since then.
She blinked away the memories as Kyle Prescott neared. Now was the time for razor-sharp focus on the present, not blurry-edged memories of the past.
She studied the man casually, yet carefully, as the TCM employee by her side blathered on and on about global marketing.
Sara didn’t feel guilty about partially tuning out the man’s words. She was more than capable of listening closely enough to respond when necessary, but she’d already determined his position in the company could lend nothing to her investigation.
She had no problem being blunt and, truth was, she had no use for him.
Kyle Prescott, on the other hand, was an entirely different story.
As head of TCM’s international rights division and stepson to Stephen Turner, he was no doubt privy to key corporate information and accounting.
Perfect. Just the foot in the door Sara needed.
Kyle Prescott kept his distance from where Sara stood, chatting and shaking hands with those gathered, but she felt his focus on her. Felt his gaze on her.
She’d always had a sixth sense about being watched, and that sixth sense was working overtime right now.
She glanced down at her dress. A dress she would have never voluntarily chosen, but one that was obviously having the intended effect now that she’d set her sights on Kyle.
While the other women present dripped diamonds and sequins, Sara had chosen a classic, yet seductive, red, silk dress. The sleeveless style showed off her lean shoulders, while the surplice front revealed just enough skin to hint at the curves that hid beneath.
She’d pulled her one piece of real jewelry out of its storage spot in the bottom of her jewelry box. The diamond choker encircled her neck, small star-shaped pendants dangling toward her cleavage.
The skirt of the dress stopped precisely at her knees, revealing nothing but the long expanse of her bare legs, supported by her sexiest pair of three-inch heels.
Kyle began to make his move, and Sara adjusted her stance, working to send the signal she waited for his approach. He shifted his course through the crowd, casually moving straight for her.
His black hair shone in the room’s subtle lighting, his blue eyes so light they glowed like beacons from the handsome lines of his suntanned face. A day’s worth of stubble lined his jaw and Sara wondered how hard he had to work at maintaining the slightly unkempt look.
His manner of dress, however, had nothing unkempt about it.
The man’s black tux fit as though it had been tailored just for his broad-shouldered build, and she had no doubt it had been. The expensive material hung flawlessly on him as he moved toward her, the white collar in sharp contrast to both his suntanned face and the tux itself.
He moved confidently, securely, proudly owning every inch of his well-built six-foot frame. It was there that she saw the resemblance to his late father. Robert Prescott had moved with the same self-assuredness.
She knew from her preparation for this assignment that Kyle was only a few years younger than she, but as far as Sara was concerned, they were a lifetime of differences apart from one another.
His had been a life of luxury and pampering. Hers had not. A choice she’d made. A choice her family had never forgiven her for.
But Kyle Prescott?
Kyle Prescott was a man used to getting his way, even at the tender age of twenty-eight.
He strode toward her now, his gaze riveted to hers. She stood her ground, not faltering in the least. She didn’t rattle easily—never had.
She stiffened, resenting the man before he so much as made his first move, before he delivered his first line. And that first line was on its way. No doubt about it.
Sara was about to experience the legendary Kyle Prescott charm firsthand.
She could hardly wait.
KYLE HAD SPOTTED the petite but leggy brunette the instant she walked from the valet area toward the party. He’d been dreading his stepfather’s birthday party, having never felt much more than obligation toward the man, but perhaps things were looking up.
He’d hoped to speak to his second in command at International, Dwayne Johnson, but the man had been a no-show. Big surprise there.
Kyle had left a none-too-kind voice mail about the call he’d received from a TCM investor in reference to a disturbing memo bearing Kyle’s signature. A signature he had no recollection of writing.
Kyle might be fairly apathetic when it came to the day-to-day business of TCM, but he’d be damned if he’d let someone get away with transacting any sort of business under his name, at least not without him having final approval.
He laughed to himself.
Johnson had probably been so surprised by not only the voice mail, but also the fact Kyle had checked his messages, that he’d dropped on the spot.
No matter.
He’d catch up to him later.
For now, Kyle had a fresh target in mind.
He watched as the woman shook hands with another guest then engaged in what appeared to be comfortable small talk.
Her red dress hugged all the right curves and left a little more to the imagination than he’d like, but perhaps that was what turned his head. She had plenty of sex appeal, but didn’t flaunt her attributes like most of the other women at the party.
Kyle continued his casual conversation, all the while keeping one eye on the brunette, doing his best not to stare at the way her brown hair shone under the light from the chandeliers. Several loose tendrils had found their way out of her hairdo and brushed softly against her neck whenever she laughed or tipped her head.
Breathtaking. The woman was absolutely breathtaking. The expanse of bare leg between the hem of her skirt and her barely there sandals didn’t hurt, either.
He smiled.
Since he couldn’t seem to shake the playboy reputation that preceded him wherever he went, he might as well live up to it.
No time like the present to start.
He closed the space between them and extended his hand, enjoying the feel of her soft yet sure touch as she slid her hand inside his.
“Come here often?” he asked, a smile teasing the corners of his lips as he gave her hand one quick pump then held on tight.
The woman tipped her head sideways, exposing the length of her slender neck. “Does that line actually ever work for you?” Her eyebrows lifted coyly.
Kyle did nothing to contain his laughter. He had no idea who the beauty before him was, but he had every intention of finding out.
Her light green eyes sparked like those of a filly begging to be tamed, and her dark, wavy hair dared him to undo her twist and run his fingers through the thick strands.
“Why, yes, ma’am. It typically works like a charm.”
He glared at the TCM employee by the woman’s side and the man slinked away, effectively dismissed with just one glance.
Kyle continued to hold the woman’s hand, taking careful note of the way the front of the wrapped dress gaped under the strain of her outstretched arm.
“Kyle Prescott.” He gave her hand another gentle pump, then released his grip.
“Sara Montgomery.” She met his gaze unflinchingly. Kyle spotted her strong will instantly. He’d bedded many a beauty in his days, yet there was something in this woman’s eyes the others had lacked. A light he’d never seen before. A focus.
A challenge?
Lord knew he could use some excitement in his life. Maybe Ms. Montgomery would be just the thing to occupy his days—and nights—for a spell.
“How do you know my stepfather?”
“Family acquaintance.” He watched as Sara gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Tough work, isn’t it? One function after another. Fund-raisers. Birthday parties. Black-tie auctions.”
She visibly caught herself, as if her comments might be offensive.
He grinned.
“I didn’t mean this particular birthday party.” She let out a small sigh. “Just the circuit in general.”
Kyle found himself mesmerized by the twinkle in her eyes. “I wouldn’t know.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Prescott. I’m sure you’re at one party or another every night of the week.”
Before Kyle could answer, his half brother Peter stepped between them, extending his hand toward Sara.
She took a step back, startled by the sudden movement.
“Peter Turner.”
“Sara Montgomery.”
Kyle bit back an unusual wave of jealousy. Let Peter find his own companion for the evening. Ms. Montgomery was obviously miles out of his league.
“You’re as beautiful as your sister was.”
An emotion Kyle couldn’t quite put his finger on passed across Sara’s features.
“You knew her?” she asked.
“I was a great admirer.” Peter nodded. “She was the one person who took the time to talk to me when I was a kid. I remember her from some of the parties Mother and Father took me to.”
His expression turned grim. “I was very young, but I still remember the shock of hearing she’d been murdered.”
Montgomery.
Kyle knew the last name had rung a bell.
He watched as Peter pinned Sara with a look that fell far short of sympathy. “I would imagine her death ripped your family apart?”
Enough.
Kyle stepped between Peter and Sara, glaring at his half brother. “Leave it to you to turn the conversation to tragedy, especially on an evening as gorgeous as this one.” He turned to Sara. “My apologies.”
But before she could answer, loud voices sounded from the far side of the gathering.
His mother stood, hands on hips, hot anger flaring in her cheeks and eyes, as she screamed at the caterer.
“Only an imbecile would serve on these dishes.” Olivia Turner gestured wildly then tossed a plate against the parquet floor. The sound of china shattering was unmistakable.
“An imbecile!” she continued ranting. “If you think you’re getting your final payment, you’ve got another thing coming.”
Kyle’s stepfather stood at her side, fingers wrapped around her elbow, obviously trying to calm her and move her away from where she and the caterer stood over what appeared to be several shattered dishes.
“Unhand me.” Olivia spun on her husband as the shocked partygoers fell silent, watching her every move. “Don’t you dare try to placate me after this man’s—” she pointed accusingly at the caterer “—outrageous behavior.”
“Excuse me,” Peter said softly. “It seems Mother could use a drink.”
SARA’S MIND WHIRLED with possibilities as Stephen Turner succeeded in moving his wife away from the tables of food. The poor caterer worked feverishly to clean up all evidence of Olivia’s tirade.
Perhaps the woman had been justified in her actions, but surely a public display such as the one she’d just caused fell somewhere outside the acceptable parameters of polite society.
Sara had heard rumors about Olivia Turner’s tendency toward odd behavior. She’d just witnessed proof of those allegations firsthand.
“I apologize for my brother’s rudeness.” The rumble of Kyle Prescott’s voice cut through Sara’s thoughts.
She shifted her focus to his face, noting the lines of stress that had appeared following his mother’s outburst.
Annemarie. Her thoughts turned back to the awkward conversation with Kyle’s half brother.
“He took me by surprise,” Sara answered. She waved one hand as if she weren’t bothered by Peter’s comment, when the truth was she’d been blindsided. Peter Turner’s sudden remarks had left her feeling raw and exposed.
The orchestra swung into a slow, melodic tune and Kyle held out his hand. “Dance?”
Sara slipped her fingers into his. “It would be my pleasure.”
They moved to the center of the dance floor, other partygoers moving out of their way as if they were the Red Sea parting for the prodigal son.
For a split second, nerves fluttered to life in Sara’s stomach but she willed them away.
Now wasn’t the time to feel out of her element. Now was the time to revel in her surroundings.
She swayed to the music, following Kyle’s obviously practiced lead as the orchestra played on. The heat of Kyle’s fingers burned through the thin material of her dress at the small of her back, but she held her composure. Held her cover.
“I don’t remember seeing you at all these awful society events you mentioned.” Kyle’s lips quirked into a grin. “Are you sure you aren’t just crashing this party?”
If he only knew.
Sara graced him with her warmest smile, gazing up into his deep blue eyes. “Let’s just say I’ve been off the circuit for a bit.” Not a complete lie. “But I’m back now.”
His grin widened and he pulled her closer. “Lucky for me.”
Sara shifted to slide her fingers higher on Kyle’s shoulder. “That remains to be seen, doesn’t it?”
When the music stopped, Kyle moved toward the edge of the dance floor, never letting go of Sara’s hand. She concentrated on remaining upright in the ridiculous heels she’d purchased just for this occasion.
If she were smart, she’d have practiced walking in the contraptions before tonight.
When they reached the far side of the ballroom, Kyle spun on her, daring her with his expression. “I could use a change of scenery.” One dark brow lifted. “Do you ride?”
Sara glanced down at her heels. “I do but I don’t think there’s a horse anywhere that would appreciate these shoes.”
A smile spread wide across Kyle’s face, the tension that had been there before their dance completely gone now.
“Not horses.”
Still holding her hand, he led her through the crowd and out into the cool, night air. He tipped his chin toward one of the guesthouses where a Harley gleamed under a floodlight. “Ever ridden a beauty like that one?”
Sara narrowed her gaze. “What do you think? That I get driven everywhere, Mr. Prescott?”
One dark brow crooked, amusement shimmering in his gaze. “If the shoe fits. And, please, call me Kyle.”
“For your information, I’ve ridden plenty of bikes.” She bluffed completely.
She’d been on the back of a motorcycle once, and it came nowhere close to the size of the giant Kyle had pointed out.
He crossed his arms over his chest and grinned, the move lighting up his features. “Then perhaps you’d like to prove yourself.”
She inwardly cursed the traitorous tumble her stomach took in response to his smile.
“Now?” she asked.
Sara’s plan was working beautifully. If Kyle Pres cott was ready to whisk her away on one of his infamous Harley rides through the mountains, she’d made more progress today than she’d hoped for.
He nodded in answer to her question, daring her with his pale eyes. “You game?”
She read the unspoken question buried in his words and suggestively traced a finger down her throat to the hollow at the base of her neck. She ran her finger over her choker. Back and forth. Back and forth.
“I’m always game, Mr. Prescott…Kyle.” She corrected herself.
When he offered his arm, Sara slipped her hand inside, taking note of his well-muscled upper arm and the lean body against which he tightly pressed her hand. She gave herself a mental nod of congratulations.
Was she game?
Most definitely.
She was always game to get her man. And Kyle Prescott promised to be a worthy—and challenging—opponent.
Chapter Two
Kyle handled the bike effortlessly, as if he spent much of his time roaming the vast mountain roads outside of Denver. Sara smiled to herself as she followed his lead, leaning into the curve as they rounded a bend.
From what she knew about Kyle Prescott, his days were supposed to be spent running the international rights division of TCM, but rumor had it he practiced a more absent management style. He rarely showed up at the office, and when he did, he remained isolated in his office. Nothing more.
That particular description of him didn’t jibe with the outgoing, charming man she’d met tonight. One of the personas was an act. All she had to do was figure out which one it was.
Sara tightened her grip around Kyle’s waist, pressing her body tightly against his back. What the heck. If she were going to play the role of a blinded-by-money-and-charm Kyle Prescott groupie, she might as well go all out.
She let her mind wander momentarily, taking in the breathtaking scenery illuminated by the full moon. Majestic slabs of red rock gave way to deep valleys dropping far below the roadside. Summer wildflowers smattered the mountainside with what would surely be vivid splashes of color in the light of day.
For the slightest moment she wanted to tell Kyle to stop—wanted to take just a minute out of the investigation to enjoy the beauty before her.
How long had it been since she’d been up here?
Too long.
She and her sister used to sneak up this road all the time once Annemarie had gotten her license, but Sara had devoted the years since Annemarie’s death to taking down criminals, not sightseeing.
She’d loved her time in the FBI, but being part of the Prescott Personal Securities team was a dream come true. Her undercover assignment to investigate the media conglomerate TCM was something she could sink her teeth into, and her first chance to truly shine as part of PPS.
She could only hope Annemarie would be proud. Sara might not have been able to solve her sister’s murder, but she’d solved others. She’d eased other families’ pain. Try as she might to content herself with that fact, it somehow was never enough.
Kyle eased the bike to the side of the road, snapping Sara’s focus back to the man—and the case—at hand. He cut the bike’s engine, climbed off the massive machine then helped Sara down from the back of the seat, no easy feat in her heels and dress.
When he kept her fingers tightly in his grip, she resisted the urge to pull them free, instead playing the part of the smitten female.
She followed him to the lookout’s edge, gazing down into a valley of jagged rock, stands of evergreens and lush green rolling hillsides. If she weren’t mistaken, the Turner ranch lay in the distance. She could just make out the shape of the buildings and the well-lit grounds.
“Isn’t that—?”
“Sure is,” Kyle answered before she finished her sentence.
He dropped her hand, leaving her fingers oddly cool where his had been. Sara shook off the unwanted sensation, silently reminding herself not to be pulled under by the man’s obviously practiced charm.
When he stepped behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders, she fought the urge to toss him over one shoulder and onto his back. Her automatic self-defense response screamed at her to make the move, but her undercover role demanded she stay put.
“Look at this land.” His breath brushed past her ear and a shiver of awareness traced its way across Sara’s shoulders. “This is my favorite place to visit.”
And probably with a different female each time, Sara thought.
“Gorgeous,” she answered. “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to develop an inch of these hills.”
“Well, within limits, some development can actually add to the local tax base.”
His quick response took her by surprise, not at all what she’d expected.
“Matter of fact,” he continued, “some might look at it as a win-win. Additional housing, additional tax dollars, some pocket change for the developer, and you just never know. There might be oil in those hills.”
Oil.
Land held by at least three of the dead investors’ companies was known oil land. Maybe Kyle Prescott represented even more than the perfect means to infiltrate TCM. Maybe he also represented the perfect means to infiltrate the investing scheme.
Sara spun on him, seizing the opportunity to push for information. “You can’t be serious.”
His vivid gaze widened with evident surprise. Apparently Kyle Prescott wasn’t used to receiving criticism from his romantic conquests.
He frowned slightly. “I’m completely serious.”
Sara gestured to the expanse below them. “You actually think losing a portion of this land is a good thing?”
He narrowed his eyes and nodded. “Progress is progress, babe.”
Babe.
She spun back toward the view before he could spot the hot color firing in her cheeks. All it would take would be one swift kick to send the man flying off the cliff and into the valley he was apparently so anxious to see developed.
TCM, Sara reminded herself. Stay focused on TCM.
But she couldn’t quite ignore Kyle Prescott’s know-it-all arrogance. She waited until her face cooled, then shifted her gaze back in his direction. He stood staring past her, at the Turner ranch, if she weren’t mistaken.
“What about land preservation?” she asked.
His focus snapped from the view to her face. “What about it?”
The intensity of his focus rattled her ever so slightly. She didn’t like the sensation—didn’t like it at all. She forced her thoughts back to their conversation.
If she could keep him talking about land and oil, he might let some useful information slip into their conversation.
“I’d think you’d be more concerned about international deals than about land acquisitions.” She gave an innocent shrug, working to maintain an air of innocence. “Isn’t that your area of expertise?”
He studied her for a long moment then leaned close. “Is there a reason you’re so concerned about the land, Ms. Montgomery? I assure you I have far more interesting areas of expertise.”
Sara arched one brow. “Can’t a girl care about her environment?”
A sly grin slid across Kyle’s lips. “Sweetheart, you can care about whatever you want.”
The man’s arrogant tone sent anger flicking to life in Sara’s gut. Heat rose from her neck to her face. This time, she made no move to hide her reaction.
“I’m always amazed when a man of your obvious wealth and social status won’t use that power for good.”
“When good playboys go bad.” He leaned even closer. Too close.
Sara held her ground, squinting at him. Their conversation was getting her nowhere. He had yet to give her a straight answer. The man was hiding something, and she had every intention of finding out what.
“Mr. Prescott—”
“I could have sworn I told you to call me Kyle.”
He made his move quickly, as if he’d made it countless times before, leaning into Sara and cupping her face in the palm of one hand.
When he closed his mouth over hers, she opened her lips to protest, only to find his lips matching her moves, his tongue tangling with hers, exploring, tasting.
Traitorous heat ignited deep inside her and Sara wound her hands around his neck and into his slightly too long hair, noting the silky texture and wondering how much money he spent on salon treatments.
When he splayed his palms fully on the small of her back and pulled her body tight against his, her only thought was of how good he felt.
The hard expanse of his chest.
The warmth of his body against hers.
His obvious arousal pressed against her stomach.
Sara blinked herself back into reality before she lost control of the situation, breaking away from his kiss and pushing him out to arm’s length.
Kyle didn’t release his grip, however. Instead he gave her waist a squeeze and turned on his megawatt smile.
Sara had to admit he was good. Very good.
She could see why woman after woman fell for him, only to be discarded when he’d grown bored or received a more enticing offer.
Well, if she’d learned one thing over the years it was that the more you pushed a guy like Kyle away, the more he’d come begging. She decided then and there on her plan of attack. As much as she hated playing games, a round of hard-to-get seemed to be in order.
She drew in a dramatic breath and splayed her hand across her neck. “I think it best we get back to the ranch.”
Without saying a word, Kyle let his gaze drift from her mouth, to her hand, over the swell of her breasts, along the lines of her skirt, down the length of her legs, then slowly back up until he met her eyes.
The seconds passed in slow motion, each moment pure torture as her body heated beneath his gaze.
She swallowed just before his eyes met hers.
“You’d better wear this.” He shrugged out of his tux jacket then draped it around her shoulders. “You wouldn’t want to catch a chill.”
Oh, he was good.
But she could be even better.
KYLE MENTALLY BERATED himself as he maneuvered the bike along the mountain road down from the lookout. When he got a bit too close to the shoulder, he tried to snap himself back into focus by shoving Sara Montgomery out of his head, but it didn’t work.
The heat of her arms pressed around his body and the memory of their kiss lingered on his lips. He’d kissed a lot of women in his day, no doubt about it, but no kiss had ever been quite like this one. It wasn’t that her pulling away had made it different. She had made it different. Plain and simple.
Sara Montgomery ignited a sensation inside him that had never been ignited. She intrigued him. Genuinely intrigued him.
She shifted against him as he pulled into a straight patch of road. Her soft curves pressed into his back, and if he didn’t know better, he’d swear the woman was trying to torture him.
His body remained in a heightened state of awareness even now, at least fifteen minutes since their kiss.
He ran their discussion through his head for the umpteenth time. The truth of the matter was he agreed with everything she said.
He hated to see the sprawl that crept into the land at the base of the mountains. If he had his way, no one would ever be able to develop here again.
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