Prologue

 

            Robert Brighton glanced at the antique clock on his desk. Good, it was only 6:45. That would give him at an hour of uninterrupted privacy, before the employees trooped in. He removed his laptop from its special compartment and carried it to his desk. Sitting down on his upmarket chair he entered the intricate password with the cool efficiency of a man who never opts for the ordinary. With a soft whirr the screen came up. 

            He senses a movement behind him and swiveled around to see what it was. His eyes widened momentarily in surprise and a sudden frisson of unease skittered up his spine.

            “What are you doing here?” His voice conveyed that he was pissed by the unwarranted interruption and that he didn’t intend to play nice. “I thought we’d agreed that you’d never come to my office.” 

The unexpected visitor snorted rudely. “Nobody is going to know. I’ve come up the back stairs and took care of the security camera by the entrance. I’m here for payback.”

            Robert frowned.  “What? What the hell are you talking about?”

            “The other day was the last straw. You’ve been taking advantage of me ever since I came to you with my proposal. I’ve had enough of your fucking around.”

            Robert saw the cold determination in the man’s narrowed gaze. It sent a chill of premonition skittering along his spine. He turned his hands palms up in a gesture of surrender and pasted on a fake smile. Hell, levity had gotten him out of tough situations before. Judging by the set of the other man’s shoulders, he was royally pissed, though Robert had no idea what about.

He shrugged, still smiling. “Hey, if you have a problem with something, we can work it out. I was just going over the data one last time. Grab a chair and we’ll do it together.”

            “No, we won’t.” The answer echoed like a gunshot through the eerily quiet room.

The three words were laced with indescribable malice. They stunned Robert into momentary immobility. 

It was all the time the intruder needed. He leaped forward and slammed Robert viciously against the back of his chair. Grabbing a fistful of hair, he jerked his head back and slapped a chloroform soaked rag over his mouth and nose.

            Shocked, Robert struggled. He clawed desperately at the hand holding the rag. His heart hammered against his ribs as terror flooded his senses. He realized that he didn’t have a chance. Moments later he collapsed in a limp heap.          

                        Robert retched and fought against the chloroform induced lethargy. He shook his head like a wet dog and tried to make sense of where he was and what was happening. He tried to focus his eyes, but failed miserable. He was vaguely aware that the intruder perched on his prized mahogany desk, watching him with the patience of a snake waiting for its paralyzed prey to succumb to the venom.

Robert’s eyes widened when he spied the syringe in the assailant’s gloved hand. His heart palpitated with renewed terror. He wanted to talk, but the words stuck in his throat. God, he’d never been so nauseated or out of control.

 “Welcome back, Robert.”

            The voice floated somewhere above and beside him, just as the chloroform soaked rag was passed under his nose again. He tried to lift his head, but he didn’t have the strength. He became vaguely aware that the gloved hand tilted his head to the side. He was too weak to fight it. 

             “Hold still, this is going to hurt like hell.” The sadistic whisper was followed by a diabolical snicker as a hypodermic needle jabbed into the soft tissue behind his ear.

            Robert screamed. Excruciating pain clouded his vision. Scalding liquid raced through his veins, then slithered in a relentless burn along his arms, down his torso, into his groin, down to his toes. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He no longer cared that he cried. The pain became his whole universe. He writhed and moaned, while his mind begged for help. Almost immediately a strange numbness stole its way up his legs. A sliver of hope coursed through him. 

It died the moment the intruder patted his cheek and he recognized the gloating in his voice.

“Tsk, tsk! You pissed your pants. I guess you expect me to feel pity for you, but I don’t. Actually, I am quite proud of myself.” Waving the now empty syringe in front of Robert’s unfocused eyes, he hissed in a voice filled with hatred, “You see, I designed this concoction especially with you in mind. I wanted you to be fully aware of the fact that you are dying by slow degrees. I wanted you to feel pain, experience panic. What comes around goes around. You’ve run roughshod over many lives-- including mine -- as if I had to tell you.” He leaned closer, chuckling as if he were telling the greatest joke. “Do you feel the numbness spreading? Has it reached your cock yet? No more screwing around, huh?”

            Robert cringed when he heard the throaty laugh that followed his assailant’s taunt. He tried to pull away, when the intruder grabbed his chin and forced him to look at him. The eyes that stared into his showed no pity.  But Robert’s heart picked up its beat, when he was offered the chance for survival.

“Look at me. Blink your eyes, if you want me to reverse the effects.” The tone was sarcastic, but Robert didn’t care.

He blinked obediently. He had blinked, hadn’t he? God, this could not be happening.  He tried to talk, but his mouth felt as if it were stuffed with cotton.  The numbness spread rapidly now. He couldn’t feel anything below his waist anymore. “Hurry, damn you, hurry. Hurry, before it’s too late,” his mind screamed.

            The killer watched a moment longer, savoring Robert’s terror and the futility of his battle. “Goodbye, asshole. I hope you rot in hell. My only regret is that you are getting off so easily. Everyone will think you suffered a fatal heart attack and let it go at that.”

Robert’s eyes, dulled with pain, begged for help. He watched helplessly as the killer turned his back to him and focused his attention on the open laptop. Watched as he inserted a memory stick, copied the file and then erased the data methodically with a couple of clicks from the mouse.

Robert’s thoughts became disjointed. Oh, God, let this be a nightmare and let me wake up.--Damn you, help me. How can you stand there and let me suffer? 

A sudden surge of intense heat crept into his throat.  His fingers dug into his neck as he struggled for air. A final tear leaked from his eye, before they glazed over in death and his head lolled sideways. 

The killer stared dispassionately at Robert’s corpse. He replaced the laptop in its special compartment, then slowly scanned the room one last time, satisfied that nothing was out of place. There would be no signs of forced entry, and he knew that the security cameras didn’t include this room. As a final precaution, he dusted the desk with his sleeve, then checked his watch. He expected the daily delivery truck to arrive at any moment. He intended to slip away unnoticed, while they unloaded. The killer smirked and left without a backward glance.

 

 

 

 

Chapter One

 

“Crap,” Amanda muttered under her breath as she blew at a wayward strand of hair that had fallen into her face and frowned down at the papers lying on her desk. Insurance questionnaires were the pits. God help her, but at this moment it seemed as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. It wasn’t fair that Dad had passed away so young, so suddenly.

             Leaning back against the padded office chair, she closed her eyes and rubbed her knuckles into them. She had never imagined that she would have to take over the management of their small research firm.  Problem was … she had no choice. Either she took the reins or they would have to close down.

Brighton Pharmaceuticals operated behind a bland façade on Amelia Street in Orlando, Florida. Its funds came mainly from grants and private donations, since their highest priority focused on a cure for Alzheimer’s. They also marketed a line of beauty creams and lotions under the label Forever Beautiful to keep the company financially afloat.

            A sudden knock on her office door startled her out of her reverie. Her mouth lifted in a delighted smile, once she recognized the young woman through the glass partition that separated her office from the reception area. Waving for her visitor to enter she hurried around the desk.      

The moment she spied the nametag clipped to the lady’s belt, she cringed. This was no social visit. However, she managed to keep her smile in place. “Angie, come in, come in. Normally, I groan when a sales rep calls, but you I am glad to see, especially today.” She jerked a thumb in the direction of the desk behind her and grimaced. “Nothing like having to fill out insurance forms.

Mentally, Amanda assessed Angie’s tasteful navy pantsuit with the understated beige silk shell she wore underneath. She also liked the flirty pageboy haircut with highlight streaks, a far cry from the long, lanky hair Angie used to have during their years in High School.

It amazed her that she remembered so much about her. They had never been close friends and run with different crowds. They’d been on speaking terms during those years, a huge concession, when you are a teenager. And during that time Angie had exhibited a tendency toward the gaudy rather than taste. She certainly had done a hundred-eighty degree turn and Amanda silently applauded her for those changes.

“Hey, but never mind.” She took the other woman’s hand and twirled her around. “Girl, you look gorgeous. What have you been up to?”

Angie Meadows pursed her mouth for a split second, too quick for Amanda to notice. She was tempted to ask if she passed Amanda’s scrutiny, but she didn’t dare. Actually, she had assessed Amanda in much the same manner. A sliver of jealousy washed over her, when she realized that despite her stylish clothes, she would only come in as second best in comparison.

“Do you expect me to answer your question about what I have been up to with that tired line about my height or do you want to know what I’ve been doing?”

            Amanda laughed. “Spare me the old joke and have a seat.” With a dismissive wave at her cluttered desk, she let out a small frustrated sigh. “Truth is I need a respite from this paper maze. It’s a bitch to have to fill out insurance questionnaires and so soon after Dad’s passing. But I guess I shouldn’t complain. Other people face the same problems when someone dies.”

            “I’ve heard. I am so sorry. I would have come to the funeral, but I was out of town on an assignment.”

            Amanda dropped her head and fought against the onrush of tears that threatened to clog her throat. She missed her Dad.  “It was so damned sudden and unexpected.”

            “The newspapers said it was a heart attack?”

 “We don’t know yet, but it sure looks like it. We had to consent to an autopsy, since he wasn’t under a doctor’s care.” She didn’t want to mention the fact that Robert had been found in the chair behind this very desk. “The results haven’t come back yet, but Dr. Hammond insists that dad was healthy as a horse. No high blood pressure, no heart problems, no cholesterol problems or any of the usual symptoms. It just doesn’t make sense.” She fluttered her hands in a frustrated gesture. “Never mind, I don’t want to talk about it. The whole thing really has upset mom.”

            “Gee, that must be hard on you.”

“I am coping.” The pity in Angie’s tone somehow grated on Amanda’s nerves. She didn’t want pity, didn’t need it. Hey, but she had it coming, since she started on the subject. Dad had always cautioned her to keep her family problems private. Determined to put an end to her candor, she parked her bottom against the edge of the desk and summoned up a bright smile.

 “As for mom, we just think she suffers from a case of depression. What do you expect? It’s been only a week and I am sure she’ll snap out of it. I’m sorry, I didn’t intend to vent, especially since it’s been some time since we’ve seen each other. How about a cup of coffee and talk about what you’ve been up to?”

            Angie had taken a seat in a comfortable leather chair that exuded good taste and money all in the same breath. “Coffee sounds great, but only if you join me.”

            Amanda depressed the intercom button. “Miss Baker, could you please bring in coffee for two?”

            “Yes, ma’am, right away.”

            “Must be nice to have someone at your beck and call.” Angie couldn’t quite keep the edge of envy out of her remark. “Where I work I’m the elected coffee maker and bringer.”

            “Don’t knock it. It’s heaps easier to collect a paycheck than to make payroll and wonder where the money for it will be coming from this week. As it is the economy is slow and our accounts are behind by 30-60 days. They figure we are a small firm and need their business more than they need us. Well, I aim to change some of that. If they can pay the big guys, they can pay me.” Throwing both hands up in disgust, she said, “Geez, here I go again. I am so not the whiny type.”

“Don’t apologize. I understand. My mom passed away a few years back and I remember how lost I felt. I still miss her as if it happened yesterday.”

            Before Amanda could reply Miss Baker arrived with a tray of coffee and some Danish pastries.

            “Thanks, Miss Baker that will be all.” Amanda proceeded to pour a cup for her friend. ”Sugar and cream?” she asked.

“Black will do. I’ve gotten used to it that way.” With a shake of her head she declined the offer of a pastry. “Got to keep in shape.” She patted her flat stomach.

Amanda let the remark pass. She poured her own cup, laced it liberally with sugar and took an experimental sip. “Okay, then. Let’s start at the beginning. What brought you here today? It’s been a coon’s age since we’ve seen each other. Just let me get comfortable first.” With a smile she scooted behind the desk and plopped down in her chair.

            Angie toasted her with her cup. “I’ve landed the Brighton Pharmaceuticals account for one thing. Guess I got it for good behavior … That’s a joke … Actually I worked my way up from the trenches. Started with this company right after I finished High School.” Angie couldn’t resist the subtle jab at Amanda, who’d had the privilege of going to college.  “I’ll supply you with rubber tubing, gloves, and anything else you might need in way of rubber accessories. You are in charge of ordering the supplies, aren’t you?” The question carried a tacit challenge. “I thought what better way to get reacquainted than to have a girls’ night out on the town?”

            Amanda dropped her gaze to mask her annoyance. She picked up a pen and twirled in between her thumb and index finger, hedging for time. “Angie you have to know that fraternizing with sales reps adds unwanted pressure when handing out contracts. Besides, competitive bids for supplies are vital toward the survival of small companies like Brighton Pharmaceuticals. In other words, I can’t afford to indulge in a friendship with a sales’ rep. Just so we are clear, my personal feelings cannot be allowed to interfere, and Brighton Pharmaceuticals certainly cannot afford to shell out more money, when it proves more prudent to accept a lower bid from another supplier.”                                        

“I respect your position, Amanda. However, I still think a night out will do wonders for you. I thought we could have some dinner first. You pick. I treat. I’ve got an expense account.” She waggled her fingers through the air again, mimicking quotation marks, oblivious to the fact that the gesture rubbed Amanda the wrong way.  “Heck, Orlando has so many great restaurants, I let you decide. Afterwards, we could hit some of the nightspots. I am in the mood for dancing.”

“I’m not sure about dancing. Dad’s only been gone a week.”

Angie brushed her misgivings aside with a wave of her manicured hand. “And I am sure your Dad wouldn’t mind, if you jumpstarted your social life. You are young. Live a little.”

            “Well, how about Pleasure Island after dinner then?”

            “What time?”

            Amanda grimaced, clearly at odds. “I won’t get out of here before six o’clock. How about we meet at the Bahama Breeze, have a bite to eat and scope the place. If the pickings are slim to none at all, we’ll head out to Pleasure Island. Just getting out will be great.”

            “It’s a date then. I’ll meet you at the bar. Oh, and what are you going to wear?”

            So, Angie wasn’t as self-assured as she made out to be. Amanda mentally went over her wardrobe and another twinge of guilt about going out so soon after her dad’s death tweaked her conscience, but she quickly squelched the thought.  “Hmm, I’m thinking chiffon skirt and a spaghetti strap shell, heeled sandals, but not too high in case we get to dance.” 

            “Sounds good. See you after six at the Bahama Breeze and we’ll take it from there.” Angie stood up as if she’d been shot out of a cannon. Grabbing her briefcase and purse, she mumbled her thanks for the coffee and slipped out the door.

            The minute she was gone Amanda had second thoughts. Accepting Angie’s invitation had been a hare-brained idea. For one thing she’d never get through all the paper work at this rate. Involuntarily, her eyes skipped across the room to the wall to ceiling bookcases and the myriad of built-in file cabinets, all tastefully hidden behind mahogany fronts.

Dad’s taste had been expensive and out of the ordinary. You could hardly call this room an office. Study would be more like it. After all, how many offices had mahogany furniture, plush leather seats and custom designed drapes? But leave it to a man to put cheesy vertical blinds on the windows facing the reception area. She never had liked the idea and told dad so. He’d explained his choice by saying that he could adjust the ugly things in a way so he could see out and no one could see in.

She sighed. Whether she liked to or not, she would have to sift through his personal papers, and soon. She dreaded the idea. Maybe a night out would help to lighten her mood. Mom would understand. 

            Frustrated, she pulled the insurance papers across the desk. That’s when the corner of a cream-colored vellum envelope caught her eye. The wedding! Damn, how could she have let that slip her mind? She checked her watch. For crying out loud, she already missed the ceremony. Hopefully, Vivian hadn’t noticed her absence amid the hullabaloo her parents had planned. Of course, she would forgive Amanda in view of everything that happened this past week, since she and Vivi were best friends since college.  Their parents were acquainted, too, and members at the same country club. Either way, she had better get a move on and get to that reception.

            She started to gather the papers and was reaching for her purse, when she remembered her date with Angie. Thank you God! She wouldn’t be able to keep her date. She snatched up her cell phone and quickly punched in the number from the business card Angie had left behind.

Angie answered on the second ring.

            “Angie, this is Amanda. I’m afraid I’ll have to renege on tonight. I’m sorry. I’m ashamed to say, but it slipped my mind that one of my best friends from college is getting married today. I already missed the ceremony and I am going to have to hurry to make it to the reception.”

“Hey, I understand. Next week will do just as well, okay?”

            “Thanks for understanding. But I’ll have to check my schedule about next week.”

            Amanda had no intention of making another date to spend an evening with Angie. She should have avoided that situation in the first place. She’d been caught off guard, not that that was any excuse. Apart from their days at High School she and Angie had nothing in common. At best the evening would have turned into an awkward meeting.

            The more she thought about it, the more she realized that there had been no special warmth about Angie. She’d abruptly stood to leave the minute they had agreed to meet at the restaurant. Amanda slapped her hand to her forehead. Angie had played the friendship card in order to make a business contact. She had fallen for it hook, line and sinker. Shoot, she had really been dense.

            Hurriedly, she finished gathering her papers, stowed them in the desk and locked it. A pinch in her heart region reminded her that Dad had used this desk and truly loved the beautiful workmanship of it. Looking upward, she whispered, “I’ll do you proud, Dad. You wait and see.” Running a loving hand across the reddish veneer, she turned off the lights and made sure she locked the door behind her.

            Waving the wedding invitation like a banner, she stopped at the reception desk.

            “Miss Baker, I have to run on home and change clothes.” Rolling her eyes, she added, “Christ, can you believe that I forget that my best friend is getting married today? So, unless there is an emergency, tell them to call back tomorrow or leave a number and I’ll call them.”     

* * * *

Across town the posh garden wedding reception was in full swing.  Chance Collins and his friend Les Harper stood off to one corner of the huge white tent and watched the bridal couple cut into a four-tiered confection of yellow cake with Cointreau laced butter cream icing.

Les raised his champagne flute in a mock salute, shaking his head.  “That leaves you and me, buddy. Hell, I don’t think I could stand to be leg shackled to the same woman for the rest of my life. But here’s to Jack and Vivi. May they be happy together and have a long fruitful life.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Chance chuckled, a deep sound that rumbled upward from the pit of his stomach. With a silent salute, he lifted the glass to his lips. Before he could even take a sip, someone bumped him from behind. Champagne sloshed over his hand and splattered the front of his tuxedo.

Chance whirled around, his expression one of irritation. But anything he was about to say dissolved into thin air, when he stared into a pair of startled hazel eyes. He forgot to breathe. He couldn’t think of one coherent thing to say.

Amanda was forced to tilt her head in order to meet his eyes. Her heart skittered, when she got a good look at the gorgeous man before her and saw that he looked none too pleased.  She tentatively patted his arm, trying hard to act contrite, when she really wanted to laugh, because he looked so pole axed. She finally managed to say, “I am so sorry. Just stay there, while I’ll get something to blot up the spill.” Hurrying toward the kitchen, she called over her shoulder, “Of course I will pay for the cleaning.”

 “Hot damn, do I give the impression of being destitute? What the devil makes her think I couldn’t pay for my own dry cleaning?” He threw a withering glance after her retreating figure and almost swallowed his eye teeth. The object of his resentment certainly had a nice little ass and great legs.

“Cool it, Chance. Lighten up, okay. I’m sure she just tried to be polite.”

Chance relaxed. Good, his buddy hadn’t noticed that the girl had roused his interest. For appearance’s sake, he continued his diatribe. “That’s easy for you to say. This tuxedo is tailor-made, and I haven’t worn it for more than a couple of hours.” He snagged a napkin off a passing tray and started to blot the worst of the dampness off his suit.

 “Aren’t you a bit touchy, Chance? It’s not like you. Besides, dry cleaning is gonna take care of it. I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure lately, but you are getting your business back on track with all the hard work and long hours you’ve been putting in. Who knows, in a year or two we might be looking at the Collins Empire.”

Chance grimaced. “Keep dreaming, my friend. I am barely keeping my head above water and with inheritance tax and all, I might still lose everything.”

“No, you won’t. You’ve made your own breaks all along. Give yourself the credit you deserve. You are a winner, always have been.”

“I don’t have the resources to advertise aggressively. Customers are moody, one mistake on my part, a late shipment or unexpected spoilage, and boom they jump to one of my competitors.”

“Maybe so, but hang in there. You are due a lucky break. Speaking of lucky breaks, the object of your black mood has returned. Man, she is one hot chick. See you later.”

Chance grabbed his sleeve, spearing his friend with a dark look. “Don’t you dare leave.”

 Chance tried his best to back away from the bottle of soda water and the towel the girl carried in her hands. He held out an arm and favored her with a smile, he didn’t really feel. “Please, Miss, I wish you wouldn’t trouble yourself.”

 “No trouble at all.  I think this will take care of the worst,” she muttered as she dabbed at the sticky stain. “By the time they start dancing this should have dried.”

She stood close enough to afford Chance an unobstructed view down her gapping neckline. He swallowed hard when he got an eyeful of a pair of gorgeous breasts. Captured in a daring black demi-cup lace bra, they jiggled enticingly with every move she made. His mouth watered. He felt tempted to draw his buddy’s attention to share the sexy view, but the idea faded as quickly as it materialized. He frowned and looked into his empty glass. What the hell kind of champagne did they serve here?

His attention snapped back to the girl, when he felt a tightening in his groin. He almost groaned. How much worse could this moment get? Christ, if she dabbed any lower he’d be found out.

Desperate, he made a grab for her hand. “Look … really … I appreciate your effort, Miss …?” He let the sentence hang to give her time to introduce herself, but then thought better of it and inclined his head toward her. “Maybe I had better introduce myself first. I am Chance Collins and my friend here is Les Harper.” Even to his own ears his voice sounded slightly strangled, and he had the uncanny feeling that Les was laughing behind his back.

Amanda stuck out her hand. “Pleased to meet you. I am Amanda Brighton, a friend of the bride’s.” She was mortified. Why had she felt the need to mention that? It didn’t matter, and what about that breathy quality of her voice. She sounded as vacuous as a silly debutante, for crying out loud.

She ventured an upward peek, struck once again by the fact that he towered over her own five feet six by several inches. Shocked, she realized he was checking her out. Embarrassed by his blatant appraisal, she blushed. And noticing the amusement sparkling in his blue eyes didn’t help her composure either. His smile almost knocked her socks off. Heck, it had a downright wicked tilt to it. His whole manner exuded a bad boy attitude, starting with the way he carried himself to the casual cut of his dark brown hair that brushed the top of his tuxedo collar. Shivers of apprehension nose-dived to the pit of her stomach. No man had the right to look so devastatingly handsome.

She felt the sudden urge to fan herself.  Irrelevantly, she wondered why no one had thought to add some overhead fans. Of course, it hadn’t helped that she had to rush to get here and even in October it was hot in Florida. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she inhaled a whiff of his cologne that made her blood razz. Geez, as a chemistry major she knew better than anyone that pheromones had an effect on the human psyche, but that couldn’t be happening. Not to her, not to Amanda Brighton. She was too cool to be bothered by such trivial things.

Almost like an afterthought, she realized that he still held her hand. She swallowed against the mind-blowing effect the warm pressure of his palm had on her senses. Annoyed with herself she pulled out of his grasp and quickly looked in the direction of the bridal couple.

 “So, I take it you are a friend of the groom’s, since I have never seen you around before?”

Chance followed her gaze, glad to have a reason to look away. He felt the urge to run a finger under his collar. He couldn’t recall a time, when a woman had managed to throw him off kilter. Nodding, he said, “Yes, Jack and I went to college together.”

He lifted his glass to his lips, only to find that it was empty. Damn, he needed another drink, and not because he was thirsty. He needed something to steady his nerves. What the hell was wrong with him today?

Waving his glass at her, he inquired, “Can I bring you something from the bar?”

“That would be nice. I’ll just have a soda or a glass of non-alcoholic punch, please.”

Chance quirked a surprised brow at her. “Are you sure I couldn’t get you a glass of champagne?” He would have never figured her for a non-drinker, and he prided himself on being able to read people.

“No, it’s not that. I haven’t had anything to eat since lunch.” She grinned up at him, then tilted her head to one side and turned that simple grin into a challenge.

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to read into that, but a streak of pure, unadulterated lust shot through him. He felt the greatest urge to haul her against his chest and kiss her senseless. Yeah, but would that be enough for him? The thought shocked him to his toes. Man, he had to get away and regroup.

 “They are serving some great shrimp cocktail or maybe a canapé? I’d be glad to get you something,” He would have rather countered with touché, because she certainly had him on the run.

             “I’ll leave the choice to your discretion, Chance. I take you for a man with good taste. By the way, I like your name. I wonder if you live up to its implications.” Now where had that come from?

            She bit her lip, feeling contrite, when she noticed his blush. What had gotten into her? She hadn’t intended to make him uncomfortable. She watched him make a hasty retreat toward one of the lavish buffet tables and marveled not for the first time at the width of his shoulders.

She was still engrossed with her thoughts about his physique, when he returned. Almost brusquely Chance thrust a small plate with an assortment of canapés at her, along with a cup of punch.

“Thank you, I see, I didn’t misplace my trust in your taste.”

He waited until she had taken several bites. “So, what do you do to keep busy, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Amanda had just bitten into a shrimp. She took her time chewing, while she tried to think how best to answer his question. If she said she ran the family research business, it would probably sound snobbish, and might scare him off. “I do research for a local firm,” she admitted after a quick tabulation of her options. It was no lie, just not the whole truth. She decided to change the subject before she dug herself a deeper hole. “Since turnabout is fair play, I guess I get to ask what you do to keep you busy?”

When he shrugged, she noticed that the simple gesture stretched his tuxedo jacket tautly across his shoulders. He definitely looked at home in formal attire. He had nice hands with long fingers. -- Work roughened hands--That discovery gave her pause. It meant he wouldn’t be sitting behind a desk pushing a pencil. She bit back the grin, when she considered that pencil pushers wouldn’t have killer shoulders and abs either. She itched to give him the once over, really take her time checking him out, but she decided to settle for a peu á peu scrutiny. Christ, what had gotten into her?

He grinned, half apologetic.  “I run the family business. Citrus, you know.”

“I see.” She drew the words out like chewing gum. Actually, she didn’t see at all and knew even less. Citrus? The word conjured thoughts of manual labor. He’d mentioned going to college. His speech certainly didn’t lack in refinement. Or maybe he never finished college. Whoa, Amanda you are thinking like the snob you maintain you aren’t. She flushed and pretended interest in the milling crowd.

Chance casually shoved his hand into the pocket of his trousers for lack of knowing what else to do with it and took a deep swallow of his drink. He’d changed to Scotch with water; light on the Scotch, anticipating that this could turn into a late night. “I can tell by the look on your face that you don’t have any idea as to what the Citrus business is all about.” He inclined his head, the mockery in his voice unmistakable. “In which case, may I invite you to tour my place some time?”

          Wow, there was that hundred watt smile again and his voice washed over her like warm honey. Not good, Amanda, not good. Don’t let it get to you. Always try to be in control.

Tamping down her misgivings, she stared frankly into his eyes and shook her head. “I admit I don’t have a clue what kind of work Citrus would entail. It sounds ominous when you mention the word place.” She grinned. She felt so out of her depth.

Chance was spared a response, because the orchestra started to play a slow waltz and the newlyweds took to the dance floor. Everyone watched, while they danced a full turn around the floor, and then they invited the guests to join in.

“Would you care to dance, Amanda?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” That should put him in his place. It proved to be a short-lived triumph, because she almost swallowed her tongue the moment his fingers closed around hers. Her heart skipped a couple of beats. She felt light headed, totally giddy. Nothing like the cool thinking Amanda she knew.

Chance barely fared better. His stomach clenched with a strange sensation that took his breath away. He was afraid he’d drown if he looked into her eyes for any length of time. Downplaying the feelings, he curled his arm around her waist to guide her in the first steps of the dance.

After a few turns, Amanda stared up at him in frank amazement. “Where did you learn to dance like that? Most men barely know the two-step.”

“My parents were great dancers. Mom insisted that we learn. I guess it was worth it after all.”

“Are you flirting, Chance Collins?” she quipped with a flip of her head.

“Maybe I am.” A hint of a grin played about his mouth.

It turned out to be one of many dances during the course of the evening, but that first dance eclipsed into something special. Their bodies moved in unison, a rhythm that came to them as naturally as breathing.