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Nora averted her eyes and fixed her gaze upon her recently manicured nails. “I’ve carefully followed the owner’s career since he was in high school,” she added, examining a pearl-lacquered tip.
“One of your former pupils?” She wasn’t surprised. Her aunt kept in touch with most of her students. Having no children of her own, Nora had always played surrogate mother to her former math students.
Nora focused on her cuticles. “Yes, he was. I’ve known him ever since he was in the troubled-youth program, many years ago. I’ve watched him grow from a defiant teenager into a fine young man who later became—” Nora hesitated and their eyes met “—your ex-husband.”
For an instant, Brianna felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach. She swallowed hard, trying to catch her breath. “I had no idea Michael was back in the country,” she said finally, after an uncomfortable pause. The last she’d heard, he was in Iraq or some such place.
Nora shook her head. “He’s been out of Special Forces for over two years now.”
Brianna felt a wrench of agony, as if Nora had betrayed her. Immediately, she felt guilty for such pettiness. Her aunt Nora and uncle, the Judge, had been like parents to Michael, and many troubled students like him, long before Brianna had met him.
Her throat tightened, and she glanced to see Nora’s compassionate gaze studying her.
“Seven years is a long time,” Nora said. “Mike has changed, just as you have.”
“Some things don’t change.”
The words echoed between them, and Brianna could feel what little was left of her self-control unravel. “I’m certain in a city the size of New York we can find someone else who—”
“My dear, please listen—”
“I’m afraid not. The subject is closed.”
Her aunt’s lips narrowed, her chin lifted. “I had no idea you still have such strong feelings for Mike.”
“I don’t! How could you say that? Since our divorce, I’ve had other relationships. I was engaged to Jordan for a year.”
Nora’s mouth lifted slightly. “Six months.”
She glared at her aunt. “Well, it felt like a year.”
“Then if you have no emotional baggage where Mike is concerned, you can call him in the morning.”
Brianna counted to ten before she spoke. “Maybe Mike won’t want to see me,” she said with more sharpness than she’d have liked.
Mike walked out on our marriage, joined the army without a word. Without any attempt to fight for what had been good between us. The sudden stab of rancor surprised her.
Nora’s eyes softened with kindness. “Whoever is sending these pictures is a real threat. You know as well as I do that Mike will see you,” she added gently. “And you can trust him to know what to do.”
Brianna bristled, unable to stop herself. “I don’t want Mike in my life again.”
Nora put a hand on her niece’s arm. “I’m only asking that you show Mike the photographs. He’ll put you in touch with people who can help.”
If they didn’t agree soon, neither of them would get any sleep. “Very well, Nora. I’ll think about it.”
Nora pursed her lips. “You looked just like your father just then, when he was a little boy, trying to get out of something.” She tilted her chin in challenge. “You either agree to see Mike or I’m canceling my trip.”
Brianna groaned. Nora meant well, but she had no idea the real reason behind the failure of her marriage. They were doomed before the ink was dry on the marriage license.
Michael Landis had been her first love, and maybe the only man she would ever love. That fact had become painfully clear while she’d been engaged to Jordan. Poor Jordan. Their relationship never had a chance.
Dear God, she hoped she’d never love someone as she’d loved Mike. Love like that had almost destroyed her.
“I’m not being evasive, Nora. It’s…it’s… Oh, how could you forget what Mike did? He signed the divorce papers and walked away without so much as a look back. He never even tried to stand up to my father and fight for our marriage, or for me.” Hot tears stung her eyes as the pain of those days hit her with the force of a tornado.
Seven years still wasn’t long enough to forget the pain.
Nora’s lips pressed together. “I know your father never approved of Mike, but—”
“And Dad was right.” She fought back the sting of tears. “He always said that Mike would jump ship, just like his mother did.”
“You’ve never heard Mike’s side of it.”
“Not because I didn’t try.” Brianna closed her eyes, fighting the flood of memories she thought were buried years ago. “I’m sorry, Nora. I know you’re only trying to help.” She took a shaky breath. “But I won’t contact Mike.”
“Then I’m staying with you until the stalker is caught. You shouldn’t be alone.”
Brianna stared at her aunt. “Be reasonable—”
“You’re the one who’s not being reasonable.” Her aunt folded her arms across her chest in that familiar stubborn gesture. “Either you make an appointment to see Mike, or I’m not leaving the city,” Nora repeated.
Exasperated, Brianna shook her head. “Mike considers me the biggest mistake of his life. I’m certain he’ll suggest another agency.”
Her aunt’s eyes twinkled. “Then you have nothing to worry about, do you?” She stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips against Brianna’s cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning, dear.” She was smiling as she hurried down the hall toward the guest room.
Brianna cradled her head in her hands and groaned. Dear God, didn’t Nora realize that remaining here with Brianna could be dangerous? Who knew what motive the stalker had for frightening her with these photographs?
She glanced at the chilling reminder—the envelope beneath the door. Who knew what the stalker really wanted? He knew where she worked, where she lived. What was next?
She closed her eyes from the threat of involving Nora in this. If making an appointment with Mike would get her aunt safely on the plane to Denver, then dammit, she could do it.
MIKE LANDIS SAT at the computer terminal, the telephone receiver wedged between his neck and shoulder. He let out a low whistle as he scrolled down through the wedding pictures that he’d received on e-mail. “For a homely cuss, you’ve got a sister who’s one gorgeous bride,” he said to his partner and best buddy, Liam O’Shea. “Did you tell Stacey that I was sorry to miss her wedding?”
On the other end of the line, Mike heard Liam’s sigh. “Yeah, but she forgives you. She knew you were watching the shop so her big brother could walk her down the aisle.”
Mike smiled, remembering Liam’s loud, Irish family in south Boston. Whenever he’d spent time with Liam’s mom and six sisters, he felt envy for all that he’d missed from his own childhood. Liam was one lucky guy.
“As if an act of war could keep you from giving Stacey away,” Mike said finally.
“I can’t believe my baby sister is old enough to be married.”
“Seems like only last week when you were running surveillance on her boyfriends.”
“Yeah, well…we’re getting old, pal. Time we were settling down.”
“Uh-oh. Sounds like your matchmaking sisters are working to snare you into the marriage trap.” Mike chuckled. “Better hop a plane and escape while you still can.”
“Actually, my sister Caitlin had hoped you’d be at the wedding. She’d invited the perfect woman for you. A kindergarten teacher.”
Mike groaned. “Thank Caitlin for me, but my tastes run to less-than-perfect women.”
“Well, you know Cait. She loves a challenge.”
“Hmm.” After a short pause, Mike scrolled down to a picture of Liam, his arm around a stunning brunette. “Looks like Cait found someone for you, though. Who is she?”
“She’s the kindergarten teacher. I couldn’t disappoint my sister, now, could I, ol’ buddy?”
“Right, ol’ buddy.” Mike laughed.
“Say, why don’t you and Jake fly down for the weekend. We’ll go fishing off the Cape. Mom would love to have you, and Uncle Davy is here with a jug of his homemade wine.”
“That’s a winning offer, but Jake’s in a Miami hospital. He was stung by a jellyfish while wading along a moonlit beach. A beauty queen on each arm, to hear him tell it. He had a nasty reaction to whatever it was the doctors gave him. He won’t be back for another week.”
Liam swore. “Sure you don’t want me back at the office? With Clete and Russell in Saudi, you’re all alone.”
“Nothing’s on the docket till next week. You’ll owe me two tickets on the Yankees’ first-base line when you finally drag your ugly carcass back to the office.”
“You got ’em. In the meantime, I’ll just have to play nice with my sisters’ girlfriends, all of whom are hot and sexy, I might add.”
At the sound of the soft rap at the door, Mike looked up to see his secretary, Bailey, stick her head inside the door. She scowled and waved a file folder at him in a hurry-up gesture.
“Gotta go, Liam. I’ll call you later.” He hung up and turned toward Bailey.
“You reminded me of your dad just now. Must have been the scowl.”
She wrinkled her pug nose and grinned. “What a lovely compliment, Mike. Dad was six foot five, almost three hundred pounds of muscle, and wore size eighteen combat boots.” She feigned a glare. “I’m a size four, in case you haven’t noticed.”
He grinned. “You know what I mean. The same red hair. Same freckles. Same sass.”
She rolled her eyes, and he chuckled as she moved to the side of his desk and gazed at the framed picture of the Fifth Special Forces TALON-team that hung on the wall beside the bookcase. Six rugged men, dressed in combat tiger stripes, their faces darkened with camouflage grease, stood at the edge of the Colombian jungle, staring somberly into the camera. The picture was taken just six weeks before Bailey’s father, Master Sergeant Stewart Thomas was killed in action. From that time on, the five remaining members of TALON-team vowed to take care of Stu’s wife and daughter as their own family.
“Since I’ve come to work with all of you here at TALON-6,” Bailey said, her voice tight, “I’ve come to realize how lucky Dad was to have you guys in his life.”
“Your dad would be real proud of you, Bailey.”
She nodded, her eyes bright. “Oh, before I forget,” she said, her manner suddenly all-business. She put the file folder in front of Mike on the desk. “You have a client waiting. She refused to fill out the standard office questionnaire. Said it may not be necessary because you might not want to take her case.”
Mike glanced up, curious. “Funny thing to say. Did she say why?”
Bailey shook her head. “No. But I’d see her if I were you. She’s drop-dead gorgeous with legs a mile long. And she’s not wearing a wedding band.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Not you, too. I don’t need any help with my love life, thank you.”
Bailey grinned. “Only trying to help. With Clete and Russell out of the country, Liam at Stacey’s wedding and Jake holed up in a Florida hospital, you’ve got smooth sailing.”
He growled. “Out of here. Oh, by the way, does Miss America have a name?”
“Yeah. Her name is on the folder in front of your nose. Brianna Kent,” she said as she stepped out the door.
Brianna Kent? Mike swiveled in his chair and opened the folder. He reached into his T-shirt pocket for a cigarette, then remembered he’d given up the filthy habit over two years ago.
Bailey must have heard the name wrong. He almost clicked on the office intercom for her to recheck the name, but he knew deep down in his gut that this was his Brianna. He’d always had a sixth sense where she was concerned.
His phone buzzed and he pressed the lever. He heard Bailey’s voice ask, “Mike, shall I send her in?”
Refuse. Say you’re not taking new clients. Mike took a deep breath and braced himself.
Well, if she could face him, then he’d face her, too. “Send her in.”
Mike rose, shrugged into his jacket and raked his hair back by the time the door swung open and Brianna Kent stepped into his office.
Chapter Two
Tall, willowy, and dressed in a summery, watery-blue silk dress, Brianna looked as he remembered her: warm, sexy and completely off-limits.
“Hello, Michael.”
Her smoky contralto was nearly his undoing. For one brief, overwhelming moment, he didn’t move. All he wanted was to look at her and absorb every changed detail about her. He knew how her skin felt beneath him. Knew the intimate places she’d loved him to touch, and her sounds of pleasure when he did.
“Brianna.” His voice was huskier than he would have liked. Not trusting his voice now, he pointed to one of the leather chairs that faced his desk. She nodded, then eased gracefully into the seat, the motion sending her shoulder-length, silvery-blond hair shimmering in the afternoon light from the window.
His fingers twitched as he remembered brushing that hair until it shone like moonlit waves of satin down her back. When he’d first known her, she wore her waist-length hair parted in the middle and loose. She had looked like what he imagined a storybook princess to be. His golden princess, he’d called her, and she’d laugh in that rich, throaty way that always went straight to his heart.
“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.” Her voice held no hint of emotion, but he noticed her fingers grip the strap on her leather bag.
Her gaze swept his office, more out of politeness than curiosity, he would guess. “Nora told me you were doing very well.” She smiled. “I’m glad for you, Michael.” Her eyes held his. “And you’re looking well.”
The proper boarding schools had taught her to be gracious under pressure. He wondered if she really gave a damn how he was doing, business or otherwise. But he let the comment drop. “And so are you.” He swallowed. “How is Nora?”
The smile she gave him warmed her eyes. “Nora’s fine, thank you. She left this morning for Denver to visit her sister for several weeks.” Brianna hesitated, and he couldn’t quite believe that his wife—his ex-wife—was really sitting in front of him.
Hell, they were chatting away as though nothing had happened seven years ago. But his palms were damp and his throat felt as if he’d swallowed a basketball.
“I’ve been back in the city for two years, Brianna. I hardly think you just happened to find yourself in my neighborhood.”
“Of course.” She fixed those moss-green eyes on him, and he could see reluctance and something else.
“You’re right. I’ll get to the point.” She slipped her handbag strap from her arm and withdrew a large envelope from inside the bag. “I’m a psychologist now, with an office here in the city.”
Over the years, he’d kept track of almost everything about her through her aunt. Nora mentioned that Brianna had finished her doctorate, opened her office and became engaged to a London plastic surgeon. Nora also told him when Brianna’s engagement had been broken, and he cursed himself for the relief that news had given him.
“Most of my clients are women and teenagers from the city family-violence shelter.”
He noticed her hands tremble as she slid the envelope across the desktop toward him. He leaned forward, curious what would bring her to see him.
“Over the past two weeks, I’ve received four anonymous envelopes, each containing one picture.” As she spoke, Mike lifted the flap and pulled out three black-and-white photographs, all eight-by-ten glossies, and laid them across the front of his desk. “There’re only three here.”
“I left the last one with Lieutenant Jeffries at the local precinct on my way here. It was slipped under my door early this morning.” She averted her gaze from the photographs, as though not wanting to face the evidence.
